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Description
Commissioned by olduncletony , pictures are his. Thank you for your support! If you read this and would like to commission me, send me a message on dA or email me in my bio!

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*And down goes Jennifer Love Hewitt! She’s hit the canvas hard after a brutal right hook from Erin Moriarty! Jennifer’s struggling to get up, but she looks shaky and dizzy. The referee is starting the count.

Can she beat it? Can she continue? Or is this the end of the line for the former Underground Princess Champion? One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!

That’s it! It’s over! Erin Moriarty has just knocked out JLH after seven minutes and secured her spot as a contender for the title!*

Dominatrix: I noticed the crowd erupts in cheers and boos. Some are happy to see Erin win, and others are shocked and disappointed by JLH’s defeat. I see Erin raise her fists triumphantly, then walk to Jennifer and help her. They hug and whisper something to each other. I wonder what they’re saying. Maybe Erin is apologizing for beating her so severely. Perhaps JLH is congratulating her on a well-deserved victory. Maybe they’re planning to go out for drinks later.

I feel a surge of admiration and envy watching the scene unfold, wearing a balaclava, a plain black hoodie, and sweatpants so nobody notices me. JLH has been my boxing idol since I was a kid. She’s the reason I started boxing in the first place. She’s why I moved to LA and want to join the underground circuit. She’s why I’m here tonight, waiting for my chance to debut against her.

But now she’s lost again. She’s no longer in the top ten. She’s no longer a threat. She’s no longer unstoppable.

She’s human.

And that makes me want to fight her even more.

---

Jennifer: I could use many words to describe what Erin did to me that night. She humiliated me, overpowered me, and usurped me. She jeered at me, ridiculed me, and guffawed at me.

“You’re done, Jenny. You’re past your prime. You’re washed up. You’re nothing.”

Her words reverberate in my head, igniting my anger and resolve. I can’t let her get away with that. I can’t let her have the final say. I can’t let her be right.

I have a new battle looming against an unknown debuting boxer. I know she hails from New York, where she has trained in the Flawless Foxy Boxing League, a notorious and brutal circuit of female fighters. She is also known as the Dominatrix and has slimmed down from the Queen division to the Princess to fight me.

I don’t know what to make of that.

Is it a challenge? A taunt? A compliment? Does she think I’m an easy prey? Or does she respect me enough to want to face me at my peak?

I don’t care. I don’t care about the Dominatrix’s motives, skills, or reputation. I only care about defeating her. I only care about proving myself. I only care about reclaiming my glory.

I punch the bag harder and faster, envisioning Dominatrix’s face. I feel a surge of anger and determination. I feel a fire in my eyes.

I’m ready.

---

Jennifer: I take a deep breath and leave the locker room, ready to enter. I hear the familiar sound of my theme song, “Toxic” by Britney Spears, blaring from the speakers. I feel a rush of adrenaline and excitement as I walk down the aisle, waving and smiling at the crowd.

I wear a light pink sports bra, matching shorts, white gloves, and boots. I have a heart-shaped pendant around my neck and a pink ribbon in my hair. I look cute and innocent, but I’m anything but. I’m a fighter. I’m a champion. I’m a heartbreaker.

I’ve been fighting in the underground boxing scene for over two decades. I’ve faced some of the world’s most challenging and talented women. I’ve won and lost titles, belts, and matches. I’ve broken hearts and bones. I’ve made history and headlines.

But tonight is different. Tonight is personal.

Tonight, I’m fighting against the Dominatrix, a mysterious newcomer who has challenged me to a fight. She’s been talking trash about me on social media, calling me old, weak, and irrelevant. She’s been mocking my losses, especially the one against Erin Moriarty last week. She’s been claiming that she’s the new face of the underground circuit and will end my career.

She’s wrong.

She doesn’t know who she’s messing with. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of.

She’s about to find out.

I reach the ring and climb up the ropes, posing for the cameras and the fans. I see some familiar faces in the crowd: other celebrity boxers, reporters, promoters, sponsors, friends, and enemies. Some cheer for me, some boo me, and some are indifferent. I don’t care. I only care about one person right now: the Dominatrix.

I look across the ring and see an empty corner. She hasn’t arrived yet. She’s making me wait. She’s trying to get under my skin. She’s trying to intimidate me.

She’s failing.

I’m not afraid of her. I’m not impressed by her. I’m not curious about her.

I’m angry at her.

She’s why I’m here tonight instead of resting and recovering from my last fight. She’s why I’ve been training harder and longer than ever. She’s why I’ve been ignoring the pain in my body and the doubt in my mind.

She’s the reason I’m going to win.

---

Dominatrix: Coming out to the ring, the only part not going to plan is how sticky my leather outfit felt on my skin. I had to get this outfit just for this fight, and I didn’t consider how humid a fight underground would feel.

What felt amazing, though, was finally coming down to make my debut match against a great fighter. Every time Jenny defended her Princess championship, I’d try to find some handheld video of it to see if she could eke out another win or go out on her shield. And even as the latter moments came more often than the former, I never stopped admiring Jenny. Watching Erin break her last fight was the final proof I needed to challenge her privately and set this up.

I chose my attire - from a La Sombra mask covering my face to a midnight corset hugging my skin and a sheer black skirt with tasteful tights underneath - to reflect my Dominatrix persona. I wanted to reinvent myself, moving between coasts and showing a different side of myself to my opponents and fansde from a few scattered cheers, I didn’t hear much noise when I came out, which shocked me. But all that would change as soon as I went into the ring, climbed the ropes up and over, and then took off my mask to reveal…

“Annie? What the fuck?” I heard Jennifer say, stunned into silence and staring at me while the crowd realized who I was. Honestly, my Dark Knight Rises homage wasn’t enough?

Before too long, I noticed a female referee scramble into the ring and motion to bring us together. Being face to face with Jennifer, I noticed for the first time how much of a height advantage I had, where I could stare into the distance and not even see the top of her head. I did that just then, leaving my opponent to grumble under her breath and the crowd to chuckle.

“Alright, cut it out, ‘Dominatrix’.” The referee said, chewing on some tobacco, calling Jennifer and me to attention. “Let me go over the rules. These fights go without rounds or round breaks, and are fights to a knockout or until somebody quits. Got me so far?” She says, and we both nod yes. “Good. When you get knocked down, you have twenty seconds to get up. Any questions? Then touch gloves.”

Neither Jenny nor I had any qualms with the rules, and we enthusiastically touched gloves in the center, her first to put up her dukes and then drop them. We returned to our corners, ready to fight.

DING DING DING!

As soon as the bell rang, I maneuvered over, knees bent and gloves up to cover my face. Before I could see Jennifer, I felt her broad hooks slamming into the sides of my corsets. “Uffff!” I groaned when those attacks struck true, hurting more than before because of all the weight I lost for this fight. I instinctively tried to counterattack, but my short punches were ineffective because of the small distance between us and slimming down muscle.

Jennifer notices my problem and immediately moves in close range to stuff me up, surrounding me with punches all over my torso and sides. “What, your T-rex arms are too short to smack my face?” I grunt after that barrage to taunt my opponent, earning a right hook to my belly button in response. Before Jenny can get another assault going, I lower my arms to put my elbows in position to block any ribcage punches, forcing my opponent to either attack my flanks or reach up for headshots around my crown or temple.

Jenny responds with two hooks to my left - the second of which forces a moan out of me - and then a right hook to my temple. I see the last shot coming in time and clinch Jennifer before it reaches my head, tying up her arms with mine.

“Short little girl from Waco - who are you fooling?” I spit out when we’re tied up, striking her side with a light tap of a hook. “Oh, take a hike, you damn goth gazelle. I just met you and I’m sick of you.” Jennifer responds with an aggrieved tone, which leaves me stunned. As the referee comes in to break up the clinch, I stomp on Jennifer’s left foot, which only us two notice.

The former Princess champion started limping on her left foot immediately, which gave me space to move my raven-clad body backward and get my proper spacing. Immediately I fire jabs like mortar shells toward Jennifer’s face, striking her cheeks and nose with every attempt. She can’t move out of the way, and after a routine training shot, I start mixing in strong right crosses, aided by my right hip moving into the assault. Within a few shots, I notice drops of saliva dripping from her mouth and bruising forming on her left cheek.

Under fire, I could see JLH quickly understanding a core risk in taking this fight - I had the height and length advantage, and while I gave up a lot of weight to fight at her level, even weak punches from me still sting. So, she attempted to come in again to close the gap between us. I panicked and stepped backward with my back foot first, trying to stall her back with my left jab. After twenty seconds, I could feel the small of my back hit the ropes, and I knew I had nowhere left to turn. With my heart in the pit of my stomach, I kept jabbing away, hoping Jenny would take the hint and back off.

Unfortunately for me, she was more intelligent than I thought. She quickly clinched up, tying my arms up and leaving me vulnerable. I bit down on my mouthpiece hard when Jennifer threw hooks toward my exposed sides, especially one on my liver. “Fuck!” I squealed out when that landed and shifted my weight onto her since I couldn’t stand well enough. “What happened, Annie? Not so tough now?” She giggled in my ear, slamming her tight gloves on my flanks, trying to search for my liver again, where my body was already bruising. In a panic, I intentionally stumbled to the right and took a knee, so the referee would come in and start the count.

“One!” she called out to oohs and ahhs from the audience, who didn’t expect the fabled Dominatrix to be in trouble in this fight. I didn’t expect to find Jennifer a challenge, too, so I agree! Even the referee is giving me the side eye!

Whatever. Soon enough, she waved Jennifer and me in to resume boxing. I noticed a Texas-sized smirk on her face; all I could think was wiping that off her face. I sat back and threw a jab-jab-cross combination towards her cheekbone, which bounced off her guard. Jennifer throws a left hook in response, which I sidestep to get more space. We spent what felt like a minute jousting for space: I wanted to keep Jennifer at a safe distance and use my range; she wanted to step inside and wreak havoc on my body. We were both going to make our goals hard on each other.

Of course, I felt too impatient, and after Jenny waved me in with one of her gloves I took the bait, setting my left foot front and fired off jabs that all hit only glove, The Princess countered with her own jabs, which tinged my corset and landed on my breasts and upper torso. I saw the sparks come alight in her eyes as Jenny realized she had me open to punch and could take advantage of my weaker abs.

I wasn’t going to just give up my body like that. While at closer range, I put my gloves lower, so my head would be exposed, but my body would be safer. “You’re still a washed-up Princess!” I grunted as Jennifer kept quiet and focused on attacking me, countering me hook for hook and short cross for shorter cross. I gave her as much pain as I could, taking side steps to search for just the right angle to strike, wherever Jennifer wasn’t guarding. Her temple, her breasts, her stomach, even her beltline - all fair game in war. As the tape continuously showed, my opponent was too honorable to hit me with a low blow, so I knew I’d have no counter to face there.

As this minute went on, and the fans came to their feet in recognition of two fighters going hell for leather, I silently noticed that I was fading. My power wasn’t what JLH’s was, and I couldn’t keep up this pace for long. I also couldn’t establish space, and the rules meant I couldn’t just stall and win on the cards. My left side was aching more by the second, and if I was wearing anything more revealing than my corset and skirt I know that my various welts would show. Whatever I’d do to avoid a losing battle of attrition, I need to do it quickly before Jennifer notices where my head’s at.

All I could do was drop my feet, throw a punch, and hope for the best.

I’ll never forget how that right uppercut landed on Jenny’s face.

I must have hit her right on the button because as soon as the glove collided with her chin, I could see her mouthpiece fly out coated in saliva and a dash of blood, her eyes roll back, and her knees fall out from under her. This sequence felt like slow motion, and before I could comprehend, she was on the mat, on her back, with her legs bent. I was too nervous to make a noise or throw my hands up.

Your winner, via KO in six minutes… Anne “the Dominatrix” Hathaway!

I couldn’t resist celebrating then.

Description
Commissioned by olduncletony , pictures are his. Thank you for your support! If you read this and would like to commission me, send me a message on dA or email me in my bio!

---

*And down goes Jennifer Love Hewitt! She’s hit the canvas hard after a brutal right hook from Erin Moriarty! Jennifer’s struggling to get up, but she looks shaky and dizzy. The referee is starting the count.

Can she beat it? Can she continue? Or is this the end of the line for the former Underground Princess Champion? One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!

That’s it! It’s over! Erin Moriarty has just knocked out JLH after seven minutes and secured her spot as a contender for the title!*

Dominatrix: I noticed the crowd erupts in cheers and boos. Some are happy to see Erin win, and others are shocked and disappointed by JLH’s defeat. I see Erin raise her fists triumphantly, then walk to Jennifer and help her. They hug and whisper something to each other. I wonder what they’re saying. Maybe Erin is apologizing for beating her so severely. Perhaps JLH is congratulating her on a well-deserved victory. Maybe they’re planning to go out for drinks later.

I feel a surge of admiration and envy watching the scene unfold, wearing a balaclava, a plain black hoodie, and sweatpants so nobody notices me. JLH has been my boxing idol since I was a kid. She’s the reason I started boxing in the first place. She’s why I moved to LA and want to join the underground circuit. She’s why I’m here tonight, waiting for my chance to debut against her.

But now she’s lost again. She’s no longer in the top ten. She’s no longer a threat. She’s no longer unstoppable.

She’s human.

And that makes me want to fight her even more.

---

Jennifer: I could use many words to describe what Erin did to me that night. She humiliated me, overpowered me, and usurped me. She jeered at me, ridiculed me, and guffawed at me.

“You’re done, Jenny. You’re past your prime. You’re washed up. You’re nothing.”

Her words reverberate in my head, igniting my anger and resolve. I can’t let her get away with that. I can’t let her have the final say. I can’t let her be right.

I have a new battle looming against an unknown debuting boxer. I know she hails from New York, where she has trained in the Flawless Foxy Boxing League, a notorious and brutal circuit of female fighters. She is also known as the Dominatrix and has slimmed down from the Queen division to the Princess to fight me.

I don’t know what to make of that.

Is it a challenge? A taunt? A compliment? Does she think I’m an easy prey? Or does she respect me enough to want to face me at my peak?

I don’t care. I don’t care about the Dominatrix’s motives, skills, or reputation. I only care about defeating her. I only care about proving myself. I only care about reclaiming my glory.

I punch the bag harder and faster, envisioning Dominatrix’s face. I feel a surge of anger and determination. I feel a fire in my eyes.

I’m ready.

---

Jennifer: I take a deep breath and leave the locker room, ready to enter. I hear the familiar sound of my theme song, “Toxic” by Britney Spears, blaring from the speakers. I feel a rush of adrenaline and excitement as I walk down the aisle, waving and smiling at the crowd.

I wear a light pink sports bra, matching shorts, white gloves, and boots. I have a heart-shaped pendant around my neck and a pink ribbon in my hair. I look cute and innocent, but I’m anything but. I’m a fighter. I’m a champion. I’m a heartbreaker.

I’ve been fighting in the underground boxing scene for over two decades. I’ve faced some of the world’s most challenging and talented women. I’ve won and lost titles, belts, and matches. I’ve broken hearts and bones. I’ve made history and headlines.

But tonight is different. Tonight is personal.

Tonight, I’m fighting against the Dominatrix, a mysterious newcomer who has challenged me to a fight. She’s been talking trash about me on social media, calling me old, weak, and irrelevant. She’s been mocking my losses, especially the one against Erin Moriarty last week. She’s been claiming that she’s the new face of the underground circuit and will end my career.

She’s wrong.

She doesn’t know who she’s messing with. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of.

She’s about to find out.

I reach the ring and climb up the ropes, posing for the cameras and the fans. I see some familiar faces in the crowd: other celebrity boxers, reporters, promoters, sponsors, friends, and enemies. Some cheer for me, some boo me, and some are indifferent. I don’t care. I only care about one person right now: the Dominatrix.

I look across the ring and see an empty corner. She hasn’t arrived yet. She’s making me wait. She’s trying to get under my skin. She’s trying to intimidate me.

She’s failing.

I’m not afraid of her. I’m not impressed by her. I’m not curious about her.

I’m angry at her.

She’s why I’m here tonight instead of resting and recovering from my last fight. She’s why I’ve been training harder and longer than ever. She’s why I’ve been ignoring the pain in my body and the doubt in my mind.

She’s the reason I’m going to win.

---

Dominatrix: Coming out to the ring, the only part not going to plan is how sticky my leather outfit felt on my skin. I had to get this outfit just for this fight, and I didn’t consider how humid a fight underground would feel.

What felt amazing, though, was finally coming down to make my debut match against a great fighter. Every time Jenny defended her Princess championship, I’d try to find some handheld video of it to see if she could eke out another win or go out on her shield. And even as the latter moments came more often than the former, I never stopped admiring Jenny. Watching Erin break her last fight was the final proof I needed to challenge her privately and set this up.

I chose my attire - from a La Sombra mask covering my face to a midnight corset hugging my skin and a sheer black skirt with tasteful tights underneath - to reflect my Dominatrix persona. I wanted to reinvent myself, moving between coasts and showing a different side of myself to my opponents and fansde from a few scattered cheers, I didn’t hear much noise when I came out, which shocked me. But all that would change as soon as I went into the ring, climbed the ropes up and over, and then took off my mask to reveal…

“Annie? What the fuck?” I heard Jennifer say, stunned into silence and staring at me while the crowd realized who I was. Honestly, my Dark Knight Rises homage wasn’t enough?

Before too long, I noticed a female referee scramble into the ring and motion to bring us together. Being face to face with Jennifer, I noticed for the first time how much of a height advantage I had, where I could stare into the distance and not even see the top of her head. I did that just then, leaving my opponent to grumble under her breath and the crowd to chuckle.

“Alright, cut it out, ‘Dominatrix’.” The referee said, chewing on some tobacco, calling Jennifer and me to attention. “Let me go over the rules. These fights go without rounds or round breaks, and are fights to a knockout or until somebody quits. Got me so far?” She says, and we both nod yes. “Good. When you get knocked down, you have twenty seconds to get up. Any questions? Then touch gloves.”

Neither Jenny nor I had any qualms with the rules, and we enthusiastically touched gloves in the center, her first to put up her dukes and then drop them. We returned to our corners, ready to fight.

DING DING DING!

As soon as the bell rang, I maneuvered over, knees bent and gloves up to cover my face. Before I could see Jennifer, I felt her broad hooks slamming into the sides of my corsets. “Uffff!” I groaned when those attacks struck true, hurting more than before because of all the weight I lost for this fight. I instinctively tried to counterattack, but my short punches were ineffective because of the small distance between us and slimming down muscle.

Jennifer notices my problem and immediately moves in close range to stuff me up, surrounding me with punches all over my torso and sides. “What, your T-rex arms are too short to smack my face?” I grunt after that barrage to taunt my opponent, earning a right hook to my belly button in response. Before Jenny can get another assault going, I lower my arms to put my elbows in position to block any ribcage punches, forcing my opponent to either attack my flanks or reach up for headshots around my crown or temple.

Jenny responds with two hooks to my left - the second of which forces a moan out of me - and then a right hook to my temple. I see the last shot coming in time and clinch Jennifer before it reaches my head, tying up her arms with mine.

“Short little girl from Waco - who are you fooling?” I spit out when we’re tied up, striking her side with a light tap of a hook. “Oh, take a hike, you damn goth gazelle. I just met you and I’m sick of you.” Jennifer responds with an aggrieved tone, which leaves me stunned. As the referee comes in to break up the clinch, I stomp on Jennifer’s left foot, which only us two notice.

The former Princess champion started limping on her left foot immediately, which gave me space to move my raven-clad body backward and get my proper spacing. Immediately I fire jabs like mortar shells toward Jennifer’s face, striking her cheeks and nose with every attempt. She can’t move out of the way, and after a routine training shot, I start mixing in strong right crosses, aided by my right hip moving into the assault. Within a few shots, I notice drops of saliva dripping from her mouth and bruising forming on her left cheek.

Under fire, I could see JLH quickly understanding a core risk in taking this fight - I had the height and length advantage, and while I gave up a lot of weight to fight at her level, even weak punches from me still sting. So, she attempted to come in again to close the gap between us. I panicked and stepped backward with my back foot first, trying to stall her back with my left jab. After twenty seconds, I could feel the small of my back hit the ropes, and I knew I had nowhere left to turn. With my heart in the pit of my stomach, I kept jabbing away, hoping Jenny would take the hint and back off.

Unfortunately for me, she was more intelligent than I thought. She quickly clinched up, tying my arms up and leaving me vulnerable. I bit down on my mouthpiece hard when Jennifer threw hooks toward my exposed sides, especially one on my liver. “Fuck!” I squealed out when that landed and shifted my weight onto her since I couldn’t stand well enough. “What happened, Annie? Not so tough now?” She giggled in my ear, slamming her tight gloves on my flanks, trying to search for my liver again, where my body was already bruising. In a panic, I intentionally stumbled to the right and took a knee, so the referee would come in and start the count.

“One!” she called out to oohs and ahhs from the audience, who didn’t expect the fabled Dominatrix to be in trouble in this fight. I didn’t expect to find Jennifer a challenge, too, so I agree! Even the referee is giving me the side eye!

Whatever. Soon enough, she waved Jennifer and me in to resume boxing. I noticed a Texas-sized smirk on her face; all I could think was wiping that off her face. I sat back and threw a jab-jab-cross combination towards her cheekbone, which bounced off her guard. Jennifer throws a left hook in response, which I sidestep to get more space. We spent what felt like a minute jousting for space: I wanted to keep Jennifer at a safe distance and use my range; she wanted to step inside and wreak havoc on my body. We were both going to make our goals hard on each other.

Of course, I felt too impatient, and after Jenny waved me in with one of her gloves I took the bait, setting my left foot front and fired off jabs that all hit only glove, The Princess countered with her own jabs, which tinged my corset and landed on my breasts and upper torso. I saw the sparks come alight in her eyes as Jenny realized she had me open to punch and could take advantage of my weaker abs.

I wasn’t going to just give up my body like that. While at closer range, I put my gloves lower, so my head would be exposed, but my body would be safer. “You’re still a washed-up Princess!” I grunted as Jennifer kept quiet and focused on attacking me, countering me hook for hook and short cross for shorter cross. I gave her as much pain as I could, taking side steps to search for just the right angle to strike, wherever Jennifer wasn’t guarding. Her temple, her breasts, her stomach, even her beltline - all fair game in war. As the tape continuously showed, my opponent was too honorable to hit me with a low blow, so I knew I’d have no counter to face there.

As this minute went on, and the fans came to their feet in recognition of two fighters going hell for leather, I silently noticed that I was fading. My power wasn’t what JLH’s was, and I couldn’t keep up this pace for long. I also couldn’t establish space, and the rules meant I couldn’t just stall and win on the cards. My left side was aching more by the second, and if I was wearing anything more revealing than my corset and skirt I know that my various welts would show. Whatever I’d do to avoid a losing battle of attrition, I need to do it quickly before Jennifer notices where my head’s at.

All I could do was drop my feet, throw a punch, and hope for the best.

I’ll never forget how that right uppercut landed on Jenny’s face.

I must have hit her right on the button because as soon as the glove collided with her chin, I could see her mouthpiece fly out coated in saliva and a dash of blood, her eyes roll back, and her knees fall out from under her. This sequence felt like slow motion, and before I could comprehend, she was on the mat, on her back, with her legs bent. I was too nervous to make a noise or throw my hands up.

Your winner, via KO in six minutes… Anne “the Dominatrix” Hathaway!

I couldn’t resist celebrating then.