BELLY PUNCH HUMILIATION

She adored arousing me, captivating me with my own erotic desires. She flirted with her hot eyes, her wiles, her smiles, her clothes. And she knew the way to get a straight grip on me was to flaunt her sensual bare belly.

And she did. She was my belly-button girl. Her bare navel entranced me. I knelt reverently and, arms thrown back, leaned my face toward her bare belly for a worshipful kiss on her belly-button. But the goddess pulled back, wagged a finger at me, and said, "If you want to kiss this belly-button, you're going to have to fight for me."

She exulted, holding me on my knees by the leash of my own desire. My lust for her sweet belly-button. Her lush hips. Her bare belly. Holding my leash, yanking me with a rude tug, to lure me and send me into places where I am sure to get my belly beat up. POW! WHOMP! THUD! Right in the belly! Then she'll watch me rolling on the floor, moaning like a slut, sucking air.

And she'll smile.

She dresses me for the fight. No shirt. Just my jeans. Low-waisted, too. My belly bare and vulnerable. She might as well have painted a bull's eye on my belly. I stuck my belly out; and I paid the price for it. Right in the belly! And that's how she wanted it.

I rushed at my rival. And the next thing I felt was a cannonball fist fired into my soft belly.

My mouth flew open. "OOUFF!!"

He had simply ducked out of the way and slammed his fist right smack into my belly. And I ran right into it. Right straight into a punch in the belly. He simply ducked down and slugged me right in my belly.

I felt his fist plunge in my belly, and my mouth flew open and I said OOUFF! and doubled up and grabbed my bare belly with both hands.

And I heard her rich-toned voice furl itself around me, with a hot-blooded, cold-hearted "oooooh, right in the belly!"

And now I'm standing there with my mouth hanging open, breathless, stunned, helpless, and he swings his hip and thuds another bellypunch full in my stummik. I let go another "OOOUFFFF!!" Then an uppercut thuds me right in the pit of my stomach.

My mouth flies open. OOUFF!! His fist pulls out, but my stomach is still crushed. I can't breathe. All I can do is groan out long, low belly-ache moans. ooouuuooooh! No self-control. Hands to my stomach and doubled over, I'm totally vulnerable.

And while I do that, my rival is posing for the girl who is watching this with a cruel, erotic smile. He knows he doesn't have to worry about me. I won't give him any trouble. I'm too absorbed in my belly-ache. I just stand there, trying to press my knees up against my punched stomach. I cann't help it. I just stand there and suffer like a wimp. Like a pot-bellied wimp.

He could have put me out right then, but instead he chose to show off for her and use my stomach for a punching bag.

And I'm owned, My rival is emptying all the male cool out of me, one punch at a time, all to my belly. Pumping me dry. And I'm giving it up. OOF! OOF! OOF! Right there in front of her. And she makes no effort to disguise the pure pleasure she takes in this. Seeing me like that and knowing my bellyache was her doing.

Making sure I see the pure pleasure she takes in watching me get my belly beat up.

He pushed me back and I fell into the wall. It hurt! I arched my back out. And of course that just made me stick out my bare belly.

Another punch pounded my stomach. My humiliated belly swallowed the whole thing, and it threw me back to the wall. He followed through with a spin move that jabbed his elbow back into the pit of my stomach.

UUUUUHH!! My poor belly. I clapped my hands over my belly and howled. Then I made empty noises with my wide-open mouth as I tried to breathe.

He turned and pulled me upright, then he gave me two judo punches right in the stomach, one-two, with his fists hard and slim as the edge of a board. They stunned my soft belly, and I folded forward.

Instant, devastating, humiliating agony. Publicly stripped of pride. Pot-bellied, beaten in the belly, punched in the stomach. Getting all the breath socked out of me.

Revealed as a breathless, bellyaching wimp. Something no woman ever would desire or accept. Just a soft-bellied oaf. Easy to beat. Wind him with a quick punch in his belly, and keep him that way till you have him belly-up on the floor.

I fell to my knees, in front of the rival who had just slugged me in the stomach. Kneeling and powerless to rise. The other man's fist in my belly hit the spring that held me together, and I fell apart. Just like that. Soft in the belly. While my rival stands over me.

I took a humiliation-beating. Right in the belly.

Once a man's given you a bellybeating, there's no going back to equality. Forever after, you are his inferior. Especially if beautiful girls see it.

And if you ever want a girl to respect you, never let her see you in a fight that ends with the other man's heel planted in your belly. Because she always will see you like that.

"You can't take it in the belly."

To be so beaten like that, helpless, suffering, defenseless, and all in my belly! And with that girl's gaze watching, rapt, focused on me in that state. Such a humiliating way to be beat up. To be taunted and mocked and called names. To end up flat out with him taking a victory stomp on my belly. No one who saw that would ever picture me in any other position.

She stood there, watching him use my belly for his personal punching bag. Clapping, laughing, encouraging him. She was the kind of girl who not only would tolerate a bully, she would egg him on.

"That's it! Hit him again! Right in the belly! Yeah! Can't take it in the belly. Give him another one. Right in his belly. Go on, hit him in the belly. That's his soft spot. Oh, yes. Right there. Look at him! He can't take it in the stomach. Can't take it in the belly!"

Through the whole fight.

In the end he made me perform for her.

"Go on, wimp. beg her for mercy. Beg her to make me stop punching your belly!"

"Please, make him stop punching me."

She waited, then smiled and purred, "Stop punching you where, darling?"

"In my belly."

"I can't hear you."

"In my belly! I can't take it in the belly!"

She sneered. "Beat his belly!" she ordered.

He beat me slow and hard for another half an hour, giving me plenty of time to suffer and beg between the punches.

He didn't even have to beat ME. He merely beat my belly. And the rest of me was nothing. He didn't have to think about my smarts or my strategy. All that brainpower means nothin to a man if he can't take it in the belly in a fistfight.

A judo chop to my belly. "UUMMMPPPPHHH." Again I drop to knees as my deflated lungs suck air and ache burns in my belly.

"Oh, right in his pot belly. Hey, wimp. You're gettin' your belly beat! Come on, hit the pot-bellied wimp! Hit his belly!"

He reaches down and pulls me to my feet by the arms. "Say 'I have a soft belly,' " he hisses. I hesitate. Out of the corner of my eyes I see her watching. He drops his right hand to waist-level, snaps it into a fist and drives it full force square into the center of my stomach. His fist disappears. My belly swallows it whole before bouncing it back out.

"H-OOOOOOOO!!" I wail as I fall and roll onto my side, clutching my knotted stomach with both arms. He looks down at me, grabs me and pulls me back up.

He winds up and delivers one last punch into the meat of my stomach. The soft bellyflesh absorbs his fist. He lets me drop and curl into a fetal position, sobbing.

He kicks me in the belly. With a sharp "UUH!" I take the boot to the belly and tighten up in my curl. The girls applaud and laugh.