An Arrogant Male

Although a good gamer, John meets his match.


John and I both played football and enjoyed the same type of films and given he was fit and good looking, dating him was a no-brainer. Of course, I played for a female team and his comments and jibes about our “inferior play” was starting to get to me a little bit. John, however, was also into gaming, and despite my disinterest would never stop talking about how well he was doing in the various games he played.

“I’m simply a Pro”, he would boast, “I might well be unbeatable”.

If ever a guy needed taken down a peg or two, it was John. As it happened, we had an old Wii console at home on which I used to play a boxing game with my brother and sister. Having been frequently challenged to play him at some of his games, I suggested that he try to take me on at the boxing on the Wii console.

“The rules are simple,” I explained, “you use the controller and the nunchuck to throw punches at your opponent on the screen and dodge left or right to avoid punches.”

His arrogance was such that, even though he had never played the game, he couldn’t believe he could lose and he was more than eager to play.

“Being stronger,” I added, “You will be able to throw heavier punches.”

“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he joked.

The first match started with John smiling and throwing heavy jabs and punches. Being heavy, they were also slow and so easily avoided. Expending far less effort with short, sharp jabs, I knocked him down three times, culminating in my knocking him out in the second round. I could have ended it sooner, but I enjoyed seeing him flounder and get sweaty with the effort he was putting in.

“Perhaps you need to dodge a little more,” I suggested helpfully.

Although he did not appear to take my advice too well, he had to admit he hadn’t been dodging too much. In our second match, he remedied this, swaying significantly and dramatically to his left and right, believing this would enable him to avoid my punches. The effect of this was to make his throwing of punches even more clumsy, and certainly did not affect my hitting him with ease. Again, I knocked him out in the second round, despite trying to stretch it out for longer as I did like to see him sweat.

Taking his defeat very badly, he claimed it must be that his controller and nunchuck were not functioning properly. He dismissed my suggestion, which admittedly was designed to annoy him, that maybe I was just better at the game than he was and demanded a rematch but with us swapping the controllers. His childish and ridiculous reaction really annoyed me, and I agreed to his suggestion and proposed a wager that the loser would strip naked and admit they were the inferior boxer.

Despite two successive and comprehensive losses, his arrogance and ego, and perhaps the prospect of getting me naked, led him to agree. No longer smiling, he started the third match with far greater concentration but, unfortunately for him, using basically the same technique that he had used in the second. His frustration was obvious as I continued to land punch after punch and again knocked him out, this time in the first round.

Perhaps I should have felt guilty about not telling him that it is not sufficient to simply sway your body in evading punches, the controller and nunchuck need to be moved. John’s exaggerated side swerves had achieved nothing bar making me laugh. In fact, I was feeling excited about the prospect of John stripping down in front of me and wondered if recording the act would be pushing it a little bit too far. His reaction to this proposal made me see that it would have been.

“You’re not actually going to make me do this,” he said angrily.

“I would have stripped if I had lost,” I countered, “I hope you won’t back out of the bet.”

Reluctantly, he started to remove his clothes but with only his trousers and underpants remaining, he paused.

“Look, you’ve had your fun,” he said, “I will only get naked if you also strip after me.”

“Let’s see you in your underpants first,” I replied, managing to hide my fury at his suggestion.

Taking my reply as an agreement that I would also strip, he removed his trousers and underpants. Standing directly in front of me, he was clearly waiting for me to take what he now saw as my turn and becoming increasingly impatient. With no intention of disrobing, I simply stood there, admiring somewhat his muscled chest. My eyes then dropped, drawn to his penis and testicles, with my view facilitated by his open legs. Adrenalin coursing through my veins and exhilarated at the sight of John standing naked before me, I suddenly began to wonder where all this would lead. Matters, however were then taken out of my hand.

“Get a fucking move on,” John shouted angrily and he began to advance towards me.

His earlier attempt to renege on our bet and now this angry demand really infuriated me and it might be I overreacted to his threatening advance. Whatever, I found myself stepping forward and ramming my knee into his balls. He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, moaning and groaning as though he was about to die. Surprisingly, I felt little sympathy for him and grabbing him by his hair, I lifted up his head so. I could look right into his eyes.

“You made a bet and lost,” I said, “but you are going to deliver on it whether you want to or not.”

Still holding him by the hair, I pulled him roughly to his feet. We were both so angry by now that any rationality had gone out of the window. I had intended to knee him again, in fact, I wanted to knee him again but I couldn’t get him in the right position. Somehow, he managed to pull my hands from his head and despite still being in significant pain, he forcefully pushed me back against the wall. A powerful punch to my stomach doubled me up and he followed this up by throwing me to the floor. Now he was in control, and sitting on my stomach, he pinned me to the ground and began ripping at my blouse buttons. In desperation, I tried scratching at his face and eyes but I couldn’t move him.

Unknown to either of us, my sister Beth had been in her room whilst all this had been going on. Drawn by the noise we were making, the sight my sister saw when she entered the room suggested an attempted rape.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” she shouted at John.

Realising the scenario didn’t look too good for him, John started to rise perhaps hoping to plead his cause. Big mistake as it happened, because as he was rising, I saw and seized the opportunity to grab him by the balls and my God did I squeeze them hard.

Paralysed and screaming in pain, he toppled over and now I was on top, sitting on his legs and still squeezing his balls in no mood to let them go. His struggling to free himself and his incessant moaning and whimpering only served to make me want to cause him more pain. I was enjoying the power I had over him and with one last squeeze, I finally released my grip leaving him exhausted and sobbing on the floor. Looking down at him, naked, humiliated and in significant pain, I could only laugh when I saw his penis in a very erect state.

“We should call the police,” Beth suggested but I assured her that this was a matter I wanted to deal with myself.

I was surprised how readily she agreed with me and immediately left to get her phone when I suggested we should record John’s predicament. While she was away, I again gripped John’s balls and explained that he would admit on a recording that he had attempted to rape me and would apologise profusely begging forgiveness.

“No fucking way,” he screamed but a few firm squeezes and the threat of castration as an alternative secured his compliance.

Of course, I would never have carried out such a threat, but the night’s events must have scrambled his brains and he would not have ruled anything out.

When Beth arrived back, I ordered him to kneel before me, Beth began the recording, and he immediately admitted and apologised for an attempted rape. Unfortunately, he neglected to ask for forgiveness so I made him stand up with his legs apart. He must have known what I was going to do and yet he complied. To my surprise, his penis was once again erect which made me wonder if at some level he enjoyed me inflicting pain on him. Whatever, I managed to knee him twice in the balls before once again he crumpled to the floor.

John lay crying on the floor of my house, no longer the arrogant boastful guy that had entered it an hour or so earlier. I now saw him as a pathetic loser and with no longer any interest in him, I asked him to dress and leave.

After his departure, I spoke at length with Beth as I was surprised at how she had gone along with everything.

“He deserved it,” she said bitterly, “all men who mistreat a woman deserve to be fucked up.”

Beth went on to explain her recent break up with her boyfriend, Mark, and how he had been sleeping around, cheating on her. Seeing my humiliation of John, she admitted she had thought she might also enjoy hurting her former boyfriend and that by simply walking away, she had let him off lightly.

“Maybe there is a way to remedy that,” I suggested, “I think we could make a formidable team.”

“You know,” she replied, “I think we could.”