"Lovely day, wasn’t it?" James said to his girlfriend, Diane as they lay in bed after the first day of their holiday.

"Yes it was, but I’m going to have to tell you, I don’t like the way you look slyly at other women when you think I’m not looking."

"I don’t," he protested.

"Oh yes you do. Your eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets when that girl in the white bikini walked past. True, she was swinging her arse around, inviting every man to stare at it. But even so, you shouldn’t gape the way you do."

"I didn’t know I did," he answered, untruthfully.

"Huh," she commented. "You know what Jane did when Ian kept doing that,"

"No," James yawned, thinking she was going to say she made him do the washing up for a month.

"She put a chastity cage on his cock when he was asleep."

"A what?"

"A chastity cage. Don’t you know what one of those is?"

"No."

"Well, you know how knights used to have a chastity belt fixed to their wives when they were abroad with the king?"

"Yes."

"Well, a chastity cage is a wire mesh cage that you fit round a man’s cock, with a little padlock which you lock. If he starts to get an erection, the cage hurts like mad, as you can imagine."

"It’s weird and twisted," James snorted.

"It would sort you out," Diane contended, as James yawned again then fell asleep.

But when he woke up the next morning, she had only put one on him. She had already got up, and he shouted her name. When she arrived, he demanded she unlock it and release his manhood.

"Shan’t," she told him. "Not until you stop eyeing up every pair of tits on the beach."

"This is ridiculous!" he shouted. "Take this bloody thing off!"

"No, I won’t."

"I warn you, I’ve never hit a woman before, but …"

"Okay, I’ll give you a chance to. On the beach, you and me, now."

Diane had hidden his clothes for good measure, but he was so furious that he went ahead with her to the beach. She, naturally, had on a neat little black swimsuit (which showed off just as much as the girl in the white bikini the day before), with matching boots and MMA gloves – where was James when she packed them? Without any ceremony, they squared up.

She really is resentful, thought James, as he only just managed to deflect a kick from Diane aimed at his head. With both arms hurriedly blocking it, it really was too near to maintain the confidence he had started with. One display of superior strength, he had thought, would be enough to make her back down and unlock that hideous contraption on his penis. But clearly, he had underestimated her. 

Here she came again, right boot aimed square at his face. He blocked it well, crossing his arms to halt its path. (The oddest thing about this surreal situation was that there were people about, who seemed to be taking no notice.)

Diane flew at him with right cross. Again, he nearly let it hit him, just managing to duck in time. Her arm brushed his hair on its way past. This was becoming insulting. Now James was the one feeling resentment and he struck his girlfriend on the temple with a right cross of his own. 

It knocked her down on the sand. She felt sick and dizzy, while James thought to himself, "Not so confident now, are you?" But more to the point, it ought to be enough to get her to unlock that chastity cage. 

"Now will you take that thing off?" he demanded of her as she sprawled in the sand.

"Not without a fight, arsehole," she answered surprisingly, jumping up and raising her fists.

"You’re not right in the head," he told her.

"Neither will you be, by the time I’ve finished with you!" Diane replied, aiming a body kick at him. As before, he managed to deflect it. 

"You’re trying my patience," he told her, aiming another right cross at her temple. This time, however, she moved nimbly to the side, managing to avoid it, and surprising him. 

Oh, so she knew a bit about fighting after all, he thought. Yeah? Well, try this! But no; she escaped a left cross from him too, glaring at him as he followed through. Then the bitch had the nerve to aim another kick at his face. He warded it off with an upraised arm, but still she didn’t give up, and an attempted left hook from her failed to connect.

One more good one should do it, James thought, firing a left cross. Diane slowed it down with her arms, but it got through, still with enough power to hurt when it got her on the chin. Would she give up now? Would she, heck! No, the crazy woman missed with a right cross now. Well, she may have done, but it was even closer than before. Instead of it ruffling his hair on the way past, her glove grazed his cheek. 

"I’ve had enough of this!" James shouted, catching her on the chin with a left uppercut. It dropped her onto the sand for a second time.

"Now take this thing off! I don’t want to hurt you anymore," he told the prone figure on the sand. "You’ve got to see sense, I’ve knocked you down twice and you can’t beat me."

"No?" Diane asked defiantly, swinging her right leg in a sudden arc to catch his ankle and bring him down in turn. 

"That surprised you, didn’t it?" she asked nastily, stamping on the small of his back while he was on all fours trying to get back up. Then, in a move that was reminiscent of a camel clutch, she squatted over the small of his back, hauled his head up by the hair, and locked his left leg upwards. The camel clutch, of course, affects the middle and upper parts of the body; this novel variation of it damaged his leg as well. James yelled in pain – which was a point for Diane, since she was the first to get a shout of pain from their opponent.

Then, forsaking the leg, she opted to concentrate on the camel clutch, not so pure and simple. Kneeling over him on one knee, she dragged his upper body up with her hands on his chin and over his eyes. It looked clumsy, but the hostile feeling of her hand over his eyes was very bad for his morale. It was her telling him she was able to do just as she wanted with him, and she would maul him any old how. Meanwhile his spine, ribs, stomach, shoulders and neck all started to suffer.

Diane let him go and threatened him from above, holding her right fist ominously in the air. But she over did the menace and the drama. Sensing that she had got carried away with the theatrical stuff, James sprang up to one knee and clasped her around her waist with both hands. He raised her off the sand and jumped up fully. Letting her go, he raised his fists, and she responded in kind. 

The pair of them faced each other for a few seconds, daring the other to make the first move. James fired a left cross, but Diane was wise to it, leaning her body out of the path. Something had happened to her since the start of the fight. She seemed to be able to "read" James and his intentions now. 

It was the same when he tried a right cross. What had worked for him 10 minutes earlier she now made to look a little bit predictable, stale. But worse, much worse than that, she got him on the nose with a punch of her own while he was following through. His head jerked back and his eyes filled with tears as her knuckles cracked against his nose. He had never imagined Diane throwing a punch, but here she was, showing him up by landing a good one to his face (and smiling as she did it, too).

When he turned back, she welcomed him with her left fist in his right eye. What a disgrace - his girlfriend had, most likely, just given him a black eye! Please don’t tell anyone about this back home, he thought, with the skin around his eye swelling up so that he could hardly see out of it.

Knowing he must strike back before it was too late, he flung a desperate right at her. She contemptuously moved aside to avoid it and plunged her own right fist in his stomach. The ferocity of the blow pushed him back a couple of steps and he bent over, trying to limit the spread of the pain. 

Like a young child who covers his eyes, believing you can’t see him, James half turned away from her, ducking his head and trying to ward her off with his left arm. But Diane did the simplest – but most effective – thing available to her. She grabbed two fingers of his right hand and locked them, causing him immense pain with scarcely any effort on her part.

She let him go with his fingers throbbing and kicked him from behind in the back of his near, left leg. It went weak and he staggered, even putting out an arm, believing he was going to fall. But Diane made sure he fell into her – in particular her knee, which she banged hard into his stomach. Coming so soon after she had punched him there, it was a cruel shot indeed.

But that was not all, because she now kicked him in the same place. She was showing a sadistic streak that James had never noticed before. She had always seemed rather a sweet girl to him, yet here she now was, relishing the pain she was inflicting on him.

The momentum had certainly swung her way – or rather, she had ensured it swung her way. Pivoting on her left foot, she kicked him, broadside on, in the side of his face. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet, but perhaps it would have been better to go down, because she punched him crisply on the jaw. The unforgiving MMA glove of her left fist landed sharply on his face. Despite the warmth of the sun, there was a cold determination about the way she fought.

Ducking slightly, Diane got James in the stomach yet again. His mouth opened in a silent yell and his body crumpled around her right fist. He struck out wildly, despairingly, with his left fist; she leant back and kicked him viciously in the balls. To add insult to injury (literally), she used the fist that was meant to hit her to hold herself steady, so that her boot struck home exactly where she intended.

Someone call an ambulance thought James, as the callous holidaymakers around him played football and went swimming with no interest at all in his suffering. 

Diane kicked hard and high. She got her opponent on the side of the face with her right boot, as before, the sole of it tearing into his skin. Seeing him totter, she reverse kicked with her left boot, her kick landing on his opposite jaw. She had been raining down kicks, punches and knees on him in ever-increasing succession, and this one brought him down.

James landed on his backside, but still she didn’t ease off. Standing with her left leg over his left shoulder, she dropped a punch to the side of his face – as if her boots hadn’t done enough! He collapsed totally, so she moved behind him and clamped her thighs shut around his neck for a head scissor. At the same time, her feet tormented his penis underneath the chastity cage.

Diane moved to the side. Propping herself on one hand, she smiled down at him, still with his neck encased in her thighs. James thrashed about, offering his surrender:

"I promise I’ll never look at women again!" he blurted out.

"Sorry?" laughed Diane, propping herself up in bed one hand, and looking quizzically down at her partner.

"Just please take that horrible thing off!"

"Take what off?"

"The … the … oh, shit!"

"That was some dream you had," she chuckled. "Look at you, you’re all in a state. I’ll go and make us a nice cup of coffee."

James thought he could sleep for a further two days after that dream. For some reason, he looked down. No, there was no chastity cage around his penis. Of course there wasn’t. He sighed, and to finish off the dream, imagined Diane celebrating her victory over him.