Tied Up and Knocked Down

Dear FemdomU Forum:

I never thought I’d get into boxing, but dating a fighter has a way of changing things. At first, I just loved watching him in the ring—seeing him dominate, seeing him win. The way his muscles tensed with every punch, the pure control he had over his opponents. But behind closed doors, things were different. He was the one submitting to me. That was the real thrill.

And it was his idea to get me involved. He bought me gloves, took me to the gym, and taught me how to throw a punch. I picked it up quicker than either of us expected. Soon, my jabs had force, my hooks had weight, and I could tell he was proud. Maybe even a little turned on.

Last night, I decided it was time for a private lesson—one where he wasn’t the trainer, but the target.

I had him tied up in the corner of my bedroom, arms secured behind him, ankles bound, keeping him in place. His broad chest rose and fell with steady breaths, a smirk playing at his lips.

“You sure you can handle this?” he teased.

I tightened the laces on my gloves and gave him a small, testing jab to the ribs. Nothing serious—just a warm-up. He didn’t even flinch.

“Good form,” he said, grinning. “Turn your hip more. Put your weight into it.”

I did. Another punch, harder this time, landing solid against his abs. He grunted, but his eyes flashed with something dark and eager.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Keep going.”

I worked him over, slowly at first—sharp little punches to his stomach, his sides, his chest. Each time, he took them with a mix of pride and arousal, giving me feedback between grunts. I was enjoying myself, enjoying the power, the way he was at my mercy.

Then I hit harder. A straight right to his ribs. His head dropped back, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of real pain in his face.

“Oh,” I breathed. “You felt that one.”

His breathing deepened, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop me. If anything, his cock, half-hard between his thighs, twitched at the impact. I laughed, rolling my shoulders.

“Guess you like it rough,” I mused.

His only response was a groan as I hit him again.

I lost myself in it, in the thrill of striking him, watching him tense and writhe against the ropes. I aimed carefully—nothing reckless, just well-placed punches, letting him feel every blow. His body took them beautifully, absorbing the impact, his skin turning warm under my gloves.

Then I saw it—him, rock hard, his cock standing at full attention.

“Wow,” I smirked, stepping closer, running the tip of my glove down his abs. “You’re harder than you were when I was taking my clothes off earlier.”

He exhaled shakily, his head dropping forward. “You’re… getting better at this.”

I grinned, lifting his chin with my glove. “And you,” I said, dragging my knuckles down his cheek, “are a very, very bad boy.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “I am.”

I circled him slowly, the power dynamic between us shifting with each step. This man who dominated in the ring, who made opponents crumble, was now completely at my mercy. The thought alone made heat pool between my thighs.

“You know what happens to bad boys?” I asked, trailing my glove across his shoulders, feeling the taut muscle beneath.

He swallowed hard. “They get punished.”

“That’s right.” I moved back to face him, adjusting my stance the way he’d taught me. “And I think you want to be punished, don’t you?”

His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he watched me. “Yes.”

I delivered a controlled uppercut to his abdomen—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make him feel it.

His body jerked against the restraints, the ropes creaking with tension. I admired the way his muscles contracted, the sheen of sweat beginning to form across his torso like morning dew on sculpted marble.

“You could stop me,” I reminded him, circling again, my gloves now warm against my knuckles. “Just say the word.”

His eyes followed me, burning with determination. “I can take it,” he growled, flexing against his bonds. “Don’t hold back.”

Something primal awakened in me then—a desire to test his limits, to see how much he could endure for me. I planted my feet firmly, just as he’d shown me during our training sessions, and landed a series of quick jabs to his ribs. Each impact produced a satisfying thud that reverberated through the room, punctuated by his sharp intakes of breath.

I continued my assault, each punch more deliberate than the last. My arms began to feel the burn, muscles working in ways they hadn’t before. Still, I persisted, watching his responses grow more visceral, more raw. His chest heaved, flushed red with exertion and arousal.

After twenty minutes, my breathing grew labored. I stepped back, pulling off one glove with my teeth, then the other, letting them drop to the floor with dull thuds. Sweat trickled down my spine as I admired my handiwork.

His body was a canvas of my dominance – pink and red marks blooming across his torso, some already darkening to purple where I’d been particularly enthusiastic. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath a testament to his endurance.

“Look at you,” I whispered, trailing my bare fingers across the marks. “My boxer. My big strong man. And look at that big strong cock”

I grabbed his throbbing erection, pulled myself close to him and gave him a deep, passionate kiss.

I wrapped my fingers around his length, feeling him pulse against my palm as our lips collided. The kiss was hungry, desperate—his tongue seeking mine even as he remained bound and helpless. I could taste the salt of his sweat, feel the heat radiating from his marked skin.

“I think you’ve earned a reward,” I whispered against his mouth. “But you’ll have to work for it.”

I reached behind him, my breasts pressing against his chest as I slowly untied the ropes. First his wrists, then his ankles. The marks from the bindings were red against his skin, and I traced them lightly with my fingertips.

“On your knees,” I commanded, stepping back.

He dropped immediately, his powerful thighs flexing as he knelt before me. This man who towered over opponents in the ring now looked up at me with reverence, his eyes dark with desire.

I stood over him, spreading my legs slightly. The thrill of our session had left me drenched, my inner thighs slick with arousal that glistened in the dim light.

“See what you do to me?” I murmured, running my fingers through his hair, then tightening my grip. “See how wet I get when I make you hurt?”

His eyes locked on the evidence of my excitement, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice hoarse.

“I’ve worked up quite a sweat punishing you,” I continued, trailing my free hand down my neck, feeling the dampness there. “I’m absolutely soaked… everywhere.”

I guided his face closer, close enough that his breath whispered hot against my thigh. “Clean me up.”

He didn’t hesitate. His strong hands gripped my hips as his tongue traced a long, slow path up my inner thigh, collecting the evidence of my arousal with deliberate care. I sighed, tilting my head back as his mouth worked its way higher, his stubble creating delicious friction against my sensitive skin.

“That’s it,” I encouraged, my fingers still tangled in his hair, directing him. “Show me how sorry you are for being such a bad boy.”

When his tongue finally found my center, I gasped, my knees nearly buckling from the intensity. He knew exactly how to please me—firm, broad strokes alternating with teasing flicks that made me shudder. Despite his submission, he was masterful here, using his mouth like a weapon more dangerous than his fists.

I rocked against his face, my breathing growing ragged. The contrast wasn’t lost on me—how his body now bore the marks of my dominance while he reduced me to a trembling mess with just his tongue. It was all part of our delicate dance of power.

“That’s it,” I moaned, tightening my grip in his hair. “Right there.”

His tongue circled my clit with practiced precision, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me upright as my legs weakened. I could feel the tension building, that familiar coil winding tighter in my core. His enthusiasm only seemed to increase as my moans grew louder, his own masculine groans vibrating against my sensitive flesh.

I came, but the night didn’t end there. As I looked down, captivated by the sight of this powerful fighter on his knees, face buried between my thighs, I knew I had won the match, and the boxer was my prize.

Sincerely,
Tabitha CH in PA