Low Blow Wrestling (part 1/2)

The locker room buzzed with the clank of metal lockers and the echo of laughter. Sweat-drenched towels hung from the hooks like forgotten ghosts, and the scent of antiseptic cleaner fought to mask the musky aroma of testosterone. Adam, Steve, Paul, Will, Zack, and Sam lounged on the benches, the six boys of the school's male wrestling team, their muscles flexing as they rehashed the day's victory. Each one basked in the glow of their collective triumph, the air thick with the kind of camaraderie that only comes from battles fought together.

 

Across the hall, a similar scene unfolded. Maude, Kim, Sally, Jess, Kat, and Sue, the fierce females of the school's wrestling squad, were wrapped in their own conversations, their eyes gleaming with the fire of competition. They were a picture of unity, their lean, athletic bodies a testament to the hours they'd spent pushing each other to be better. The sound of their banter was punctuated by the slap of hands and the thud of wrestling shoes against the floor as they mimed their favorite moves.

 

The two groups had been eyeing each other all week, a simmering rivalry ready to boil over. It was common knowledge that the gym was a hotly contested space on weekends, with both teams vying for the prime slots to hone their skills. The boys had always assumed that their strength and numbers would grant them the right to the space, but the girls had been growing in popularity and skill, and they weren't about to back down without a fight.

 

Adam, the team captain, took a deep breath and sauntered over to the girls' locker room. He tapped on the door with the confidence of a peacock, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. "Ladies," he called out, "we've got a little situation here. You see, we need to figure out who gets the gym on Saturdays for practice. What do you say to a friendly match to settle it?"

 

The girls exchanged glances, a silent communication that spoke volumes. Maude, the leader of their pack, stepped forward. Her eyes glinted with challenge. "Alright, boys," she said, her voice a low purr, "you want to play for it? Let's do this."

 

Round 1: Sam VS Sue

 

The first match was set: Sam, the youngest and most inexperienced of the boys, would face off against Sue, the smallest but most feisty of the girls. The gym was cleared, the mats rolled out, and the crowd of teammates gathered around, eager to see how this would unfold. The whistle blew, and they began to circle each other, sizing up their opponents.

 

Sam, a head taller and twice as broad as Sue, smirked, thinking this would be an easy victory. He lunged forward, expecting to overpower her with his brute strength. But Sue was quicker, darting around him like a nimble cat playing with a clumsy dog. Her eyes never left his, her movements fluid and precise. The first few minutes were a dance of anticipation, the air thick with the tension of unspoken taunts.

 

The crowd grew restless, eager for some action. The boys jeered, urging Sam to show them what he's got. The girls cheered, their voices a symphony of encouragement for Sue. But Sue had other plans. As Sam made another clumsy attempt to grab her, she swiped her leg up, her foot connecting with a sickening thud against his crotch. Sam's eyes bulged, and he dropped to the mat like a ragdoll, clutching his groin in pain. The gym erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and hysterical laughter.

 

The boys jumped to their feet, pointing fingers and shouting, "Foul!" But the girls just shrugged, a wicked smirk spreading across their faces. "You said it was a fair fight," Maude said, stepping into the ring, "we don't have the same equipment, do we?"

 

Kim, the second in command, leaned against the ropes, her arms folded across her chest. "Yeah, you guys always forget that little detail," she said with a smirk. "It's not our fault you're so... vulnerable down there."

 

The match between Sam and Sue continued, the intensity ramping up with every passing second. Sam's face was a mask of determination as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain and get back into the fight. Sue, on the other hand, had a glint in her eye, enjoying the effect she had on him. She danced around the mat, her eyes never leaving his groin, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.

 

As Sam got to his feet, hunched over in pain, Sue saw her opening. She darted forward and delivered another swift kick to his balls, the impact resonating through the gym. Sam's knees buckled, and he let out a guttural groan that sent a shiver down the spines of the watching crowd. The girls cheered, their laughter mingling with the taunts of the boys.

 

"Is that all you've got, Sammy?" Sue jeered, her voice filled with a sadistic glee that seemed to be echoing through the walls. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her fists clenched in excitement. "I thought you boys were supposed to be the tough ones."

 

Sam's face was a mask of agony, his cheeks flushed and his eyes watering. He knew he couldn't go down like this, not in front of everyone. He took a deep breath and pushed aside the pain, focusing on the fight ahead. He had to come up with a plan, and fast. He couldn't just let her keep kicking him in the nuts and expect to win.

 

As he took a tentative step forward, Sue watched him like a hawk, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She could see the wheels turning in his head, the desperation in his eyes. She knew he was trying to think of a way to counter her moves, to get the upper hand. But she was ready for anything he threw at her. She'd been waiting for this moment all week.

 

The match resumed, and Sam approached with newfound caution, his eyes darting from her legs to her face and back again. He feigned a lunge, and she responded with a graceful leap over him, her body a blur of motion. The crowd oohed and aahed, the tension in the room thickening with every move. Sweat beaded on Sam's brow, and his muscles quivered with the effort of holding back his rage. He lunged again, and this time, she was ready.

 

Sue spun around, her leg sweeping up in a lightning-fast arc that connected with Sam's already tender testicles. He let out a scream that could've shattered glass, his body contorting in a display of pain that made the spectators cringe. The boys' protests grew louder, their faces a mix of horror and embarrassment, while the girls' laughter grew more raucous.

 

Through gritted teeth, Sam managed to croak out, "I... I can't." His voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes pleading. The agony was too much, and his pride lay in tatters on the mat beside him. He knew he couldn't take another hit like that.

 

 

Round 2: Zack VS Kat

 

Maude looked over at Zack, the next in line, her expression one of amusement. "Looks like your boy's had enough," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "What about you, Zack? You want to go up against Kat?"

 

Zack's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stepped into the ring. He knew Kat had a reputation for playing dirty, but he was confident in his own skills. He'd been training hard all year, and he wasn't about to let a few low blows ruin his chances of securing the gym for his team.

 

The whistle blew, and the match began. Zack and Kat circled each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Zack could feel the anticipation in the air, the tension coiled tight as a spring. He knew what she was going to do, and he was ready for it. Or so he thought.

 

Kat feigned a move to the left, and Zack took the bait, lunging in to grab her. But she was quicker, slipping away and delivering a swift knee to his groin that made him double over with pain. The crowd roared with laughter, the sound of it ringing in his ears like a taunt. He stumbled back, his hands instinctively protecting his wounded pride, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

Her smile was cruel, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of victory. She knew she had him on the ropes, and she wasn't about to let up. "Looks like you're not as tough as you thought," she jeered, her voice echoing through the gym.

 

Zack's face was a mask of pain, but he wasn't about to give up. He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to counter her tactics. He knew he had to be smarter, faster, more strategic. He couldn't just rely on brute strength anymore.

 

Kat circled him, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. She could feel the power she had over him, the way his every move was dictated by the fear of another painful blow. She took her time, enjoying the moment, waiting for him to make the first move.

 

Zack, on the other hand, was fuming. His face was a mask of pain and humiliation, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew he had to get inside her head, to throw her off balance. He took a step forward, feinted to the right, and then shot in for the kill.

 

But Kat was ready. She sidestepped him, her movements as graceful as a ballet dancer's. Before he could recover, she had him pinned in the corner of the ring, her body pressing against his. She smelled faintly of sweat and mint, a combination that was both arousing and infuriating. Her leg shot up, kneeing him in the balls with a force that made his vision swim.

 

Zack's breath left him in a whoosh, and he slumped against the ropes, his eyes squeezed shut. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a white-hot agony that seemed to radiate through his entire body. He could feel the girls' laughter, the boys' jeers, and the thud of his own heart in his chest. He wanted to collapse, to give in to the pain, but he knew he couldn't. Not here. Not now.

 

He opened his eyes to find Kat leaning in close, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her smile was wicked, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You're going down, Zack," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."

 

With a snarl, he threw his weight forward, trying to break free from her hold. But she was too quick, her knee connecting with his groin again, and again, each blow sending waves of pain crashing through him. Zack's body spasmed with every hit, his hands clutching at the ropes for dear life. Kat's laughter was like a whip crack, sharp and biting. She enjoyed watching him squirm, his face a mask of agony. She pressed harder, her knee driving into his sensitive flesh with a sickening rhythm that had the boys' team wincing in sympathy. Zack's breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes watering uncontrollably.

 

The match was a blur of pain and desperation. Each time he tried to rally, she'd deliver another blow. His teammates shouted encouragements, but their voices sounded distant, drowned out by the roar of his own pain. Zack's mind was a fog of anger and frustration, his body a mass of agony. He knew he couldn't keep this up, knew he was losing the fight, the gym, and maybe even his dignity.

 

As Kat's knee slammed into him again, something inside him snapped. Zack's body was shaking with sobs. The laughter of the crowd, the smug smirks on the girls' faces, it was all too much. He looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears. "Please," he choked out, "please stop."

 

Kat paused, her leg poised for another strike. For a moment, there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, a hint of humanity breaking through the veneer of her competitive spirit. But then the grin was back, wider than ever. "Say it," she goaded, her voice low and taunting. "Say you give up."

 

Zack's jaw clenched, his eyes boring into hers. He could feel the heat of her body, the strength in her muscles as she held him there, trapped and helpless. He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to give her the satisfaction, but the pain was too much. "I... I give up," he gasped, his voice barely audible.

 

Kat's smile grew even more smug, and she leaned in closer, whispering, "You know what that means, don't you?" Before he could react, she reared back and slammed her knee into his balls one last time. The impact was like a bomb going off in his body, and Zack's world went white. He crumpled to the mat, his body wracked with spasms. The crowd's laughter was a distant din, the pain consuming him completely.

 

Round 3: Will VS Jess

 

Maude called out the next match-up: "Will versus Jess!" The room quietened, all eyes on the two opponents as they stepped into the ring. Jess was known for her unorthodox fighting style, and the boys had heard whispers about her particularly nasty habit of throwing punches where they weren't allowed. Will, on the other hand, was a brute force kind of guy, relying on his bulk to overpower his opponents.

 

The whistle blew, and the two began to circle each other, their muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash. Will had a smug look on his face, thinking Jess would be a walk in the park. But Jess had other plans. She feigned a move to the right, and when Will took the bait, she shot her left hand upward, her fist connecting with a sickening thwack to his crotch. Will's eyes bulged, his mouth opening in a silent scream as his knees buckled.

 

He stumbled back, clutching his groin with both hands, pain radiating through his body. Jess's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with victory. She'd played this game before, knew exactly how to get under the skin of her male opponents. Will's teammates shouted in protest, but Jess just shrugged. "What?" she taunted, "you didn't say we couldn't go for the low hanging fruit!"

 

The crowd's laughter grew louder, the tension in the gym palpable. Will's face was a mask of agony, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But he was stubborn, refusing to concede defeat so easily. He pushed himself back to his feet, his jaw set in a grimace. He had to finish this match, had to prove that he wasn't going to be taken down by a cheap shot.

 

Jess circled him, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt. She could see the determination in his eyes, the desperation to win. But she was ready for it. She'd faced boys like Will before, thinking their strength was all that mattered. She knew better.

 

Will stumbled forward, his movements erratic as he tried to protect his groin. Jess danced around him, her fists flying in a blur. She feigned a punch to his face, and when he blocked it, she took advantage of the opening to slam her elbow into his crotch. Will's eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to the mat, his body spasming. The girls' laughter was like music to her ears, sweet and triumphant.

 

The match went on, a brutal ballet of pain and determination. Every time Will tried to get back on his feet, Jess was there, her fists and knees aimed with unerring accuracy. She'd punch him in the nuts, then dance away, her movements as graceful as a gazelle. His pain was a symphony she conducted with gleeful malice. The boys' jeers turned to shocked silence as they watched their teammate's suffering.

 

Will's face was a contorted mask of agony, his eyes watering as he struggled to keep fighting. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a testament to his refusal to give up. But Jess was relentless, her strikes as swift as a snake's. She knew just how to hit him to maximize the pain, and she didn't hold back. With every blow, she could feel the power shifting in the room, the tide of the match turning in her favor.

 

The crowd watched in a mix of horror and fascination, unable to look away from the spectacle unfolding before them. The girls' laughter grew wilder, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of victory. The boys' protests had turned to shocked silence, their bravado forgotten in the face of Jess's brutal tactics.

 

Will's face was a portrait of pain, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he tried to stay upright. His eyes were glazed, his mind foggy with agony. He could feel Jess's eyes on him, her anticipation palpable as she waited for the perfect moment to strike again. And then it came.

 

With a feline grace, Jess darted in, her fist a blur as it shot towards Will's crotch. But this time, she didn't stop at his balls. Instead, she aimed for the one spot he hadn't yet felt the brunt of her assault: the tip of his penis. The impact was like a lightning bolt, a white-hot flash of pain that seemed to sear through his very soul. He screamed, a high-pitched wail that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone watching.

 

The crowd's laughter turned to shocked gasps as Will's body writhed on the mat, his hands clutching at his groin in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Jess hovered over him, her face a picture of sadistic glee. "Looks like you're down for the count," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. But Jess wasn't done yet. With a swift move, she straddled Will's head, her athletic thighs trapping him in place. The boys watched in horror as she sat on his face, her butt cheeks pressing down on his nose and mouth. The girls cheered, their laughter bouncing off the walls of the gym like a chorus of victory.

 

Maude's voice rang out, starting the countdown. "One... two... three..." Her words were a taunt, a declaration of dominance that echoed through the room. Will's teammates stared in disbelief, unable to believe what they were seeing. The humiliation was complete, a public emasculation that seemed to have no end.

 

Jess's thighs tightened around Will's head, her weight pressing down on him like a vice. He could feel her muscles flexing, the power in her body as she sat on his face. Her smile was one of pure triumph, her eyes gleaming with the joy of victory. She leaned back, placing her hands on the mat behind her, her breasts jutting out as she took in the cheers of her teammates.

 

Maude's count grew louder, her voice a siren's call that sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over Will. "Four... five... six..." He struggled beneath Jess, his arms flailing as he tried to push her off. But she was too strong, too in control. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, her eyes never leaving his. She was enjoying this, the power she had over him.

 

"Seven... eight... nine..." Maude's count grew more deliberate, each number a nail in the coffin of Will's pride. The other boys could only watch, their fists clenched in impotent rage, unable to do anything to help their friend.

 

Jess leaned back further, her weight shifting, and Will's muffled protests grew louder. Her thighs tightened around his head, cutting off his air supply, and she could feel his panic rising. "Ten!" Maude shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls of the gym. Jess hopped off Will's face, his body going limp beneath her.

 

The crowd erupted into cheers, the girls' laughter ringing out like a battle cry. Will's teammates helped him up, his face a mess of pain and embarrassment. He stumbled out of the ring, his eyes never meeting anyone's, his hand still cupping his bruised groin. The fourth match was called: Paul versus Sally.

 

Round 4: Paul VS Sally

 

Paul, a cocky grin on his face, strode into the ring with a swagger that screamed overconfidence. He'd seen what happened to his teammates, but he was sure he had the upper hand. Sally was the quiet one, the one who didn't talk much, but when she did, it was with a sharp tongue that could cut through steel. She stepped into the ring, her eyes locked on Paul, her expression unreadable.

 

The whistle blew, and they began to circle each other. The tension was palpable, a silent battle of wills playing out in the center of the mat. Sally's eyes never left Paul's, her gaze cold and calculating. He could feel the weight of her stare, but he was too focused on his own superiority to be intimidated.

 

With a sudden burst of speed, Paul lunged at Sally, his arms outstretched, aiming to grab her and slam her to the ground. But she was ready for him. She sidestepped with an elegant grace, and before he could react, her hand shot up, her fist connecting with a sickening crunch to his testicles.

 

Paul's eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The impact was so intense, it seemed to echo through the gym. The crowd gasped in shock, and the boys' protests turned to silence. The girls' laughter grew, a crescendo of victory that filled the air. Sally looked down at him, her face a picture of smug satisfaction.

 

But she wasn't done yet. With a wicked smile, she placed her foot on Paul's crotch, pressing down with all her weight. She could feel the softness of his balls flattening beneath her, the give of his flesh as he moaned in pain. The sight of his suffering was exhilarating, a heady mix of power and pleasure that made her heart race.

 

Paul's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he endured the agony. His hand shot out, grabbing for her ankle, trying to pull her off. "Please," he choked out, his voice tight with pain. "Get off, Sally. I can't... I can't take anymore."

 

But Sally was relentless. She placed more pressure on his groin, her foot flexing as she enjoyed the feel of his squirming beneath her. "What's the matter, Paul?" she sneered. "Can't handle a little pain?" Her voice was sweet, almost teasing, but the malice behind it was unmistakable.

 

Paul's eyes rolled back in his head, his hand tightening around her ankle. He could feel his strength waning, his body betraying him with every breath. "Please," he gasped, his voice strained, "please get off."

 

Sally's smile grew colder, her eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. "Why should I?" she purred, pressing down harder. "You're just a pathetic little boy, aren't you?"

 

Paul's face was a contorted mask of pain, his eyes squeezed shut. He could feel the pressure building, his testicles ready to burst beneath her foot. "Sally," he begged, his voice strained and desperate. "Please, I'll do anything. Just get off."

 

Sally's smile grew even more sinister as she applied more pressure, her foot pushing down on his crotch with a sadistic pleasure.

 

Paul's breath hitched, and in a moment of desperation, he did the unthinkable. He wrapped his arms around her leg, hugging it tightly to his chest. His face was a contorted mask of pain and humiliation, but he knew he had to do something to stop her. "Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse with agony. "I'll do anything."

 

Sally's smile grew colder, her eyes gleaming with victory. "You'll do anything?" she repeated, her voice a seductive purr. "What if I want something more... personal?"

 

Paul's eyes shot open, desperation clouding his vision. "What do you want?" he gasped, his breath shallow and ragged.

 

Sally leaned down, her breath hot against his ear. "I want you to kiss my ass," she whispered, her voice dripping with malice. "Right here, right now, in front of everyone."

 

Paul's eyes widened in horror, the reality of his situation sinking in. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of kissing her ass was almost too much to handle. "No," he ground out, his voice strained. "Never."

 

But Sally was unfazed. She pressed harder, her foot grinding into his balls with a sadistic glee. "You have two choices," she said, her voice cold and clear. "You can kiss my ass, or I can crush your nuts into oblivion."

 

Paul's mind raced. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of kissing her ass was almost too much to stomach. He could feel his teammates' eyes on him, the weight of their expectations like a leaden blanket. The girls' laughter grew louder, their voices a symphony of triumph.

 

With a resigned groan, he leaned forward, his cheek brushing against the smooth fabric of her shorts. He could feel the heat of her body, the power she had over him. His mouth hovered over her ass, the fabric tauntingly close. With a grimace, he pressed his lips to her skin, his mind a whirlwind of pain and humiliation.

 

The girls' laughter grew to a crescendo, their cheers filling the gym. Sally's eyes gleamed with victory, her foot pressing down harder. Paul's kisses grew more fervent, his desperation palpable. Each kiss sent a new wave of pain through his body, but he didn't dare stop. He could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, the weight of their shock and disbelief.

 

Sally felt his grip on her leg weakening, and she knew she had him. She leaned down, her voice a whisper in his ear. "You're going to kiss it like you mean it," she hissed, her breath hot against his skin. "Or I'll show you what real pain feels like."

 

Paul's cheek was pressed against her ass, his eyes squeezed shut. The pain was a living, breathing entity, a monster that consumed him whole. But he knew he had to survive this. He forced himself to kiss her harder, his teeth gritted against the pain. The fabric was rough against his lips, a constant reminder of his humiliation.

 

The crowd watched, a mix of shock and glee painted on their faces. The girls' team was clearly enjoying the show, their laughter a symphony of sadistic pleasure. The boys looked on in horror, their shock slowly turning to anger. They hadn't anticipated this level of brutality, this complete and utter domination.

 

Paul's moans grew louder, his face a mask of agony. Sally's foot remained firmly planted on his crotch, her body leaning into it with all her weight. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his legs began to spasm uncontrollably. He was lost in a world of pain, a world where the only escape was to kiss the very ass that was causing his downfall.

 

But even as he kissed her, the pain grew too much to bear. His body had reached its limit, his mind unable to process the agony anymore. He felt himself slipping away, the darkness closing in around him. And then, with one final, desperate gasp, he passed out cold.

 

The gym was silent for a moment, the only sound the heavy thud of his head hitting the mat. Sally stepped back, her face a picture of cold satisfaction. She'd won, and she'd done it with style. The boys' team looked on in horror, their fists clenched in anger. But the girls just laughed, their eyes gleaming with victory.

 

Maude stepped into the ring, her hands on her hips. "Looks like you boys are on a losing streak," she said, her voice a purr. "But we're feeling generous. If you can win just one of the next two matches, we'll let you keep the gym."