Ann’s circumstances were fairly typical of women of her age. In her early 40s, she had given up her career to bring up two children. Now, with them having left home, she needed an occupation, so she got a job.
 

Where she wasn’t typical was that she was Japanese-American, and her job was in the strangest of offices. She worked for Todd as an accountant. Todd used to have a reputation for saying the most embarrassing, offensive things to women, but he had calmed down of late. However, one of his staff, Phillip, had thought Todd’s jibes and insults no end funny and he had assumed the mantle of annoyer-in-chief of the women.
 

He made great play of Ann’s age, as if it was hilarious to have a job and be middle-aged. He did it to show off in front of the new and impressionable girls. So Ann complained to Hyu, her head of department.
 

"It’s tricky," Hyu told her. "You see, Phillip’s a friend of Todd’s, which is why he gets away with so much. But there is another way."
 

"What’s that?"
 

"You could challenge Phillip to a fight."
 

"I beg your pardon?" Ann was appalled and astonished.
 

"Oh, it happens in this firm," Hyu reassured her. "Todd has his own private ring in the country. You’d destroy Phillip, he’s a wimp, and you’re in great shape."
 

This was true. Ann exercised hard in the gym, and was rewarded with a fine figure for it. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it. She’d love to humiliate that creep Phillip, and she was sure she could. So the challenge was made, first round wrestling, second boxing, and Phillip found himself facing a confident, mature woman. Not so sure of himself now, was he?
 

True, he was smiling as he faced Ann in the ring, but she could see it was a nervous smile. He spent his time trying to impress girls in their first job; but Ann was a mature, experienced woman who thought of him as an insecure young man, who disguised his unease with offensive jokes about her age.
 

To add to his discomfort, he had to go naked, as the arcane "rules" demanded. For her part, Ann chose a rust-coloured leotard, very tight around her large breasts. Phillip was both fascinated and daunted by them. She insisted they begin on their knees, in the tradition of her mother’s homeland (she said, to imply that he was getting into a fight with a woman brought up in a warrior tradition).
 

They locked up, one hand on the opponent’s arm, the other on the jaw, the fitness Queen against the junk food King. He met her equally at first, but then she gradually increased the pressure. She felt him start to shake and knew he would give way. When he did, she thrust her left arm around his neck, locking his head and drawing him next to her, while grabbing his left arm with her free hand. His right arm hung uselessly over her back, his hand resting on her wonderful large round bottom. 
 

Ann bumped him onto his back, still head locking him, with his left arm enclosed, while holding his right arm in her strong grip. She pulled it to her, squashing it against her ample breasts. That’s the way to dominate a young pipsqueak, she thought. Disconcert him with the unknown, mysterious power of an older woman.
 

Ann maintained the head lock in an unorthodox way – using her left leg for it. Her calf pulled him towards her by the neck, while her right leg hooked itself under his right leg and did the same thing. While his left arm was too far away to be any use, she levered his right arm back – once more – against her breast. (He would dream about this for several nights afterwards.) 
 

From a wrestling point of view, she had immobilised him with a form of octopus, while locking his right arm and choking him. Then she let him go, and once again he landed hard on his back. Sitting over him, she bent his left arm over her left leg, meanwhile trapping his right arm under her right boot. 
 

Pulling Phillip off the mat by his head, she leapt on his back and resumed the octopus. Her arms and legs seemed to be everywhere, winding themselves around his limbs and exerting their evil pressure. 
 

Phillip ended up spread eagled on the mat, with his legs stretched out either side of him, while strong hands pushed down on his upper arms. Ann looked as if she was forcing a sex act on him from behind. He had heard rumours about a strap on being used when the woman won these matches, and he had an awful fear that this might be a premonition of it.  
 

His left arm being twisted behind him shook him out of this fear. His tormentor squatted over him and manipulated his arm at weird, hideous angles, making him cry out. Warming to her task, Ann pushed him onto his front, straddling the small of his back, and seized his other arm, twisting and locking both at the same time behind his back and rendering them useless. 
 

"Submit," she insisted, and he did without hesitation.
 

The mature woman posed and flexed over the quivering, sweating, younger man, psychologically nursing the injuries she had inflicted on him. (Or playing for time, to you and me.) Still, she wasn’t bothered. She knew she could defeat this wimp. Hyu had been right. 
 

Eventually Ann decided to resume her punishment of the infantile fool, kneeling down as a signal for another bout. They locked up, both on their knees again. Soon, her greater strength prevailed, and she locked his left leg in the crook of her left arm, while her left thigh trapped his other leg. He found her unblinking gaze into his eyes just as demoralising as the physical domination she had over him. 
 

She forced him onto his left side and imposed a leg arm lock on him, imprisoning his right arm and leg in the crooks of her arms. If Phillip’s left arm came up in a gesture of surrender, she ignored it. Meanwhile, men working in the fields nearby, hearing his screams, assumed rightly that it was just another young man being put through his paces by a superior woman. They thanked heaven they didn’t work in that office.
 

Indeed, his cries increased in intensity when Ann put him in a bridge. With both feet on the mat, she bent herself back to face upwards and hooked his legs in her arms. This meant that only his head and shoulders were on the mat, while his back was forced upwards, with his thighs pointing horizontally, while his feet faced upwards. The pressure on his neck, spine, ribs, hips and assorted muscles was unbearable. 
 

When she released him, he flopped down thankfully onto his front; but the seasoned lady wrestler had by no means finished with him. Squatting over the small of his back, she placed her hands under his chin and dragged him up by it in her favourite camel clutch. His spine, ribs and stomach muscles suffered all over again. The fact that the suffering was in the opposite direction is immaterial as far as the pain is concerned, but the damage made it doubly serious. 
 

Bumping the back of Phillip’s head on the mat, Ann put him upside down. Lying into him, she held him in position with her left arm around his middle and her right one through his legs. This was an especially useful hold for a woman against a naked man, because it presented his balls as a target for her right hand. She proceeded to squeeze and knead. Her experienced hand was more used to giving a man pleasure by doing this, but what fun it was to turn it to torture!
 

Bumping him down once more, this time on his backside, she put her arms under his arms, placing him in a type of full Nelson, with her left hand over his mouth. She was deliberately putting him through the works, showing him that she was adept at just about every hold and its numerous variations. 
 

To demonstrate, she doubled him up and twisted his left arm in front of him, before dropping him onto his front and once again locking both his arms behind his back. Phillip felt like praying, with his face pushed against the mat. His shoulders, forearms and wrists felt as if they were on fire. 
 

Ann’s next demand for submission came when she had him in a modified surfboard. Kneeling with one knee on the mat and the other digging into the small of his back, she pulled his body back by his arms and made her demand. Curiously, he was silent, so she shouted:
 

"Do you submit, bitch?"
 

Whatever was he thinking? Perhaps he wasn’t thinking, because he replied, "I submit, bitch."
 

WHAT? You don’t say that to Ann in her preset mood! Furious, she slapped his head. Then, seeing him cower, she "took the win" and stood up to pose over him. Getting over her brief moment of fury, she flexed and smiled, with one foot on his back. 
 

Even so, she couldn’t let it go. Straddling the small of his back, she pulled his head up by his hair and asked what he had called her, daring him to repeat it. As he was silent, she hauled his left arm up and locked it behind him. Then, standing to the side of him, she swapped his arms, and bent his right one over her left leg. Once again, Phillip’s yells reached the agricultural labourers, who glanced at each other, shaking their heads. 
 

Swapping his arms, as she was wont to do, Ann knelt over him on his front and dragged his left arm behind him.  Her right thigh trapped his other arm in a chicken wing position behind him. 
 

"Stop!" Phillip yelled, making her smile. 
 

"Am I a bitch?" she asked, again daring him to say so. He wisely told her no, but that he was the bitch. 
 

It was time for more self-indulgent posing. Then she fancied a bit more fun. Seeing Phillip still on his back on the mat, she put him in a matchlock pin. Bending his legs above and behind him, she sat on them, plus his upper body below, and resumed her "work" on his balls. That was enough for him, and he cried out, "I submit!"
 

But still she wasn’t done with him. She sat on his face in a reverse face-sit and started to bully his defeat boner. Up and down her strong hand progressed, faster still faster. No man had ever withstood that for long, and Phillip was no exception. With a shout, he came, exhausted from wrestling and sexual stimulation. 
 

Maintaining the face-sit, Ann celebrated her second victory by flexing again. Then she stood and posed over him, one boot on his spent manhood, telling him he had 30 minutes before they were to box. 
 

She spent much of that time warming up in her corner. It’s unclear what Phillip did. Plotting an escape, perhaps? Praying? Who knows? Anyway, at the allotted time, he returned, literally putting on a brave face to smile at Ann as they bowed to each other. 
 

They touched gloves, and immediately Phillip got one in his right eye from her. It was powerful for a first strike – especially a left one – and forced him to retreat a step. The agricultural workers heard him cry out again. Among their numbers were a few women fruit pickers, who crouched among the fruit bushes to see what was going on. One of them hissed joyously to the men behind them:
 

"She’s given him a black eye!"   
 

The men muttered about that office being full of wimps, while the women set up a running commentary to annoy them even more:
 

"She’s smacked him good and proper – right on the jaw!"
 

The men peered in the direction of the fight just in time to see Ann seemingly bury her right glove low into Phillip’s stomach – so low, in fact, that part of her glove pummelled his cock. While the women laughed, the men winced and exchanged glances. 
 

Phillip retreated further, but she went after him, her right glove storming into his chest. He tried to clinch but Ann, grabbing his head with both gloves, rammed her right knee into his stomach. He choked and gulped, feeling sick as he always did when in pain and scared. 
 

Ann’s left glove burned its way into Phillip’s kidney, while three coarse sensations on his left side told him she had him on the ropes.  Thinking she would go for the KO next, Phillip raised his gloves to protect his face – and in went her left glove to his stomach. It was such a hefty blow that he doubled up around it. 
 

There were stifled cheers from the women as Ann blasted Phillip’s chest with her right glove again. They could hear the sound of the impact through the still air. He seemed to be stuck to the ropes. 
 

If he did try to move away, she put him back there again, on this particular occasion with her left glove low into his kidney. How he regretted mocking her now! He had only done it to try and impress the girls - and it hadn’t even done that! And now, here she was, with Oriental dedication, hell-bent on avenging his stupid jibes.
 

Ann withdrew her glove, then went at the same place again before he had time to recover. So hard did she punch him that his body protruded outside the top and middle ropes. The women watched, fascinated, while the men turned away in male shame. For his part, Phillip clutched his middle with both gloves and groaned. He lurched about, on the verge of collapse. When the worst of the pain subsided a little, he looked about himself, and there was his nemesis grinning evilly and beckoning him to her. 
 

What else could he do? He couldn’t run away, because his sides hurt too much. He must approach the martial matron, and hope that her lust for vengeance had at least partially subsided. Perhaps it had, but her lust for victory hadn’t. One dragon glove got him in his already painful right eye. Please make this short, he thought.
 

On that, at least, they could both agree. Ann was impatient to win, and belted his jaw with a straight right. Phillip staggered, but didn’t go down. (Why the hell didn’t I do it deliberately, he thought moments later, when it was too late.)
 

Inwardly cursing his lack of foresight, he lashed out at the lady in red; but she avoided it gamely, laughing as she did. Her crouch underneath his glove was the perfect springboard for what proved to be the KO punch. A glorious, soaring right uppercut despatched her wretched opponent, who flew backwards before landing on his back, unconscious. 
 

Standing over him, with her hands on her hips, Ann began the count out and commentary that was typical of these matches. At 4, she asked rhetorically, "Bitch is done?" At 8, she answered herself with, "I think YES". At 10, she confirmed it.
 

It was face-sit time again! Ann stretched out luxuriously over the beaten young man and indulged herself. Satisfied, she posed over him before dragging him up by the hair.
 

*****
 

One thing that made Ann different from the other women in Todd’s eccentric office was that she was appalled by the idea of a strap on, when offered one by Hyu. No, she said, Phillip was just a naughty little boy really, although he was by birthdays a young man. As such, he deserved to be punished like a naughty little boy. She took him to a nearby bench outside the ring, lay him across her lap, and smacked merry hell out of his backside, to the delight of the hidden female spectators.
 

After a quick schoolgirl pin back inside the ring, Ann celebrated a comprehensive win over the prone, abject male. She looked forward to Monday morning, when she would make Phillip her slave in the office. Yeah, try showing off to the girls now!