Jim Priest shut his eyes tight and grimaced as small hard balls of muscle dug into his temples. He held onto the smooth nylon clad calves even though he knew he had no chance of moving them to ease the pain. Gill Butcher was pissed, very pissed. “Who does he think he is? Swanning in here in his gold plated Rolls-Royce and expensive designer suit” she said angrily. “Banker bonus rich. He marched straight into the principal’s office and said he was taking control until the Board of Trustees appoint a new principal”. “Argh” Jim cried in pain as the flared calves flexed grinding muscle into his head. He knew just how deadly those skull crackers could be [JIMP#21].

“When I said I was quite capable of doing the job, he just laughed in my face. I’ve a good mind to...”. “Arghhh!” Jim howled in agony as the steely calves bit deeper. “Oh does that hurt, Jim? Well never mind, as soon as I find a new IT manager you are out of here” she said coldly. “I know how to get rid of the likes of him without blowing my cover. Have I introduced you to Granny Strongarm?” Gill asked as she lowered her feet to the floor. Jim breathed a sigh of relief as the terrible pressure reduced. “She’s just your type”. Gill snapped herself to her toes. “Arghh!” Jim screamed before passing out cold.

St.Agatha’s Domestic College, what on earth was a place like this doing in the 21st Century? I was glad that I wasn’t a student here, that’s the only good thing I could say about it. A loud woman’s voice made me jump. “You there boy! What are you doing there?”. For a moment I thought I was seeing the ghost of some long deceased Victorian governess whose sense of duty transcended life itself. She was a formidable looking elderly woman. From a tightly corseted waist that pinched in a plump figure, a long black skirt fell in long pleats down to the top of black laced ankle boots. Above the corset, was an elaborate old-fashioned white blouse that covered a very ample bust and was decorated with lace around the neck and wrists.

“I asked you a question, boy. You had better answer or it will go very bad for you indeed” the stern woman said. As she walked towards me, I realised that this was no apparition. Her face was small and oval with small piercing grey eyes that stared out over a pair of narrow half-framed reading glasses. Her nose was sleek and elegant with a small thin-lipped mouth wearing deep red lipstick. Her cheeks were firm although close up I could make out a large number of creases and wrinkles under a layer of foundation. These, the liver spots on the back of her hands and a slightly jowly neck indicated that she was a lot older than I had originally thought. Her silvery grey hair was pulled back behind her ears into a tight bun. She was perhaps an inch or two taller than my 5’9”.

“I’m James Armstrong. Your Great-Grandson” I introduced myself. “I came to visit you on my birthday” actually it was my parent’s idea. “James? Of course, I was expecting you. My, haven’t you grown” she said. Why do grown-ups always say that? It’s so dumb. “Well I wouldn’t have shrunk now would I? Great-Grandmother” I replied. She didn’t seem amused. “The name’s Georgina, but you can call me Granny like everyone else. Granny Strongarm, they call me” she said proudly. “Why do they call you that, Granny?” I asked. The old governess raised her right hand. It looked quite large for a woman. “Because of my strong right arm, which I use to administer discipline to boys and men alike. Believe me, I’ve had many a male teacher baring their backsides at my command. Big burly men bent over my knee bawling their eyes out over Granny’s touch” she told me. Her hand swished in front of her as if spanking the air. I wasn’t sure if she was being serious but she looked stern. This preyed on my mind as she us down a long corridor. “Didn’t they use the birch or strap in the olden days, Granny?” I asked. “My palm can exert much greater control to enforce moral standards and values. My arm supplies the most rigid and unbending discipline” she replied.

She’s kidding me, she must be. As we turned through a set of double doors into a large stairwell, I called her bluff. “Granny, corporal punishment is banned in Britain”. “Is that so? Who told you that? The Government? The same people who propagate the illusion of democracy?” she replied. “Adolescent boys need a firm hand to understand respect. Men too”. I was starting to find this old woman a bit scary and intimidating. Why would a fully-grown man let her spank his backside? “I guess some men like that sort of thing, but I don’t” I said as we started to climb a long wide staircase. “Believe me James, no man enjoys a spanking from me” she replied.

The rest of our journey was spent chatting about my parents and my education. We finally reached her room, which was actually more like a well-furnished small apartment. Great-Grandmother made a pot of tea in a small kitchenette then we sat down on a large comfy sofa to drink with a selection of biscuits. The ancient woman studied me with her cold grey eyes over her glasses, making me feel uncomfortable.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. A petite mature woman with a bob haircut and a dark curly haired man wanted to speak with my Great-Gran. After brief introductions, she excused herself. “I’ll just be gone 5 minutes, James. Make yourself at home. I don’t expect you can get up to any mischief in that time”. I soon got bored looking at the elevated view of London through the windows and decided to explore the rest of the apartment. Apart from the kitchenette, there was a small bathroom, bedroom and the main living/dining area with one corner set aside for exercise equipment. That was probably how the old dear kept herself in good condition.

On the carpet was a pair of antique looking cast iron dumbbells. Each had a pair of very thick big round plates joined together by a short bar. I tried to lift one and found it a lot heavier than I expected. Straining, I only just managed to raise it using both hands. Even then I didn’t dare curl it for fear of giving myself an injury. If I couldn’t use the thing, how could an Old Age Pensioner like my Great-Grandma handle it? Maybe it belonged to her long-deceased husband and she just kept it as a memento? I had a thing for women who worked out, building their sexy bodies with feminine muscle. I often brought magazines or visited web sites featuring fitness women. The thought of the severe looking old grey haired woman in a frilly white blouse and corseted black dress curling these heavy weights was exciting. I could imagine her removing those antique clothes to reveal a firm body, beautifully muscled with large firm breasts and a six-pack. The erection in my pants reminded me where I was and who might walk in at any minute.

Nearby was an old-fashioned punch bag. One of those big brown leather balls heavily strapped to a pole with a heavily weighted base. A couple of pairs of old brown leather boxing gloves lay close by. What was the old lady doing with this in her room? I knew I shouldn’t touch other people’s stuff but I was bored and felt sure Great-Grandmother wouldn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t as though I was going to break it. I put on the gloves, not really liking the feel of them. Giving the ball a tentative blow, the thing barely moved. I tried again and again, really having to throw all my weight behind my punches before I got the thing moving. So preoccupied was I with this that I didn’t hear my Great-Grandma re-enter the room.

“So you like to box do you James?” she said, startling me. “I, I’m sorry Great, er, Granny. I didn’t mean to touch” I apologised. “That’s alright James, providing you spar with me” she said. I couldn’t believe what she had just said. The very old lady put on the other pair of gloves then turned to face me. Raising her fists like a pro, she adopted a boxing stance. I was speechless; this white haired old Granny dressed like a Victorian governess was wearing big boxing gloves and wanted to box me. “There’s nothing like boxing to build up character. Come on James. I’ll go gently with you” she said. “I, er, I don’t want to hurt you Granny” I said earnestly. I could just imagine the grief I would get if I accidentally killed the old woman whilst sparring. “Nonsense James. I often go several rounds with the P.E. instructor” she said. The stern old woman sounded so confident that I felt a little nervous.

“Come on, get your guard up” she told me. So there I was squared off to box my Great-Grandmother and for some reason I found that quite exciting. I didn’t want to hurt the BAM! A big leather glove explodes right in the middle of my face with a force that I simply wasn’t expecting. WHAM WHAM! I taste old leather against my lips as two more solid punches smash me hard in the face in quick succession. My head jerks back like the punch bag I’d been hitting moments before, the whip-like motion creating a blur of bright jagged colours. WHAM WHAM WHAM! Granny’s shockingly strong punches scramble my senses as they assault my face and I find myself in a daze on the carpet on my hands and knees. I realise with a shock that I’ve just been floored in seconds by a woman over three times my age!.

“Oh do get up James. Stop playing around with me. Don’t let me win just because I’m a woman” she said while glaring down with a calm air of superiority that made my dick twitch. Warily I stood up and faced the wrinkly ancient woman. “Ur, maybe we should do something else? Watch telly or something?” I suggested. This woman could punch a lot harder than I expected and really seem quite capable. “Oh nonsense. One should make your own entertainment. Do you really want me to tell all your relatives that you were too frightened to box an little old lady?” she taunted. She was hardly little and seemed remarkably robust for a woman her age. I couldn’t let her go around saying that she kicked my ass to all my family. “You just caught me by surprise Great, er, Granny. I didn’t expect you to be that good” I said while trying to convince myself. My groin was tight in anticipation. “Of course you were dear. Do try to keep your guard up to protect yourself and look for openings in my defence” she instructed.

We squared off again, standing glove to glove. BAM BAM BAM fearsome punches from the grim looking grey haired lady battered my defences. BAM BAM Her old body stood strong, her eyes boring into me over her glasses, mouth tight, as she tried to get past my guard. BAM BAM As I fought to intercept the old lady’s strong probing punches, I was forced to step backwards. BAM BAM her gloves stung sharply against my forearms that I had raised to protect my face. “Oh come on James, don’t be on the defensive. Attack me boy” the severe looking woman scolded as my gloves jolted and jerked under her assault.

She was right, I actually felt intimidated by this senior citizen peppering blows towards my head. I wasn’t exactly a weakling; I couldn’t be on the defensive from my own Great-Gran. A few shots of my own towards that stern face should stop her. BAM BAM She was so busy pressing her attack that her head was unprotected. I shot my right fist forwards, but it came to an abrupt halt against her glove that she effortlessly raised to block it. WHAM! Her other glove blasted through the opening in my guard and hammered my mouth with such force that it split my lip and nearly buckled my teeth. Now I knew why boxers wore mouth guards! “Surely you can do better than that, James. You’re not gay are you?” she said. “Nnn No” I replied, shocked by her derogatory remark.

BAM BAM BAM WHAM! Her fists tore apart my guard and blasted my face back so hard that I saw bright jagged patches of white, red and black. BLAM! Another heavy glove smashed into the side of my jaw whipping my face from one side to the other so fast that it left me reeling. I saw the fearsome old woman prepare to launch another punch and reacting out of fear quickly buried my head behind my forearms.

WHUMP WHUMPH WHUMPH WHUMPH a terrible salvo of punches hammered my gut in rapid succession. I bent over, completed winded by the old dear’s assault. “Classic mistake James. Never leave yourself exposed like that” she told me. “Nor like that”.

BAM! Her glove came up underarm and a powerful punch jack hammered against my jaw, blasting my head back hard. My vision went out of focus and my legs turned to jelly. “Don’t they teach boys how to box anymore?” Great-Grandmother said, clearly amused to watch me struggle to stay upright. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to my knees, my ears ringing and feeling strange.

“Well I don’t think much of the younger generation nowadays. If you’re anything to go by” she berated me. “You’re so weak, I could have slaughtered you in seconds. Come on, show me that you’re made of sterner stuff, James”. Clearing my head, I regained my feet. “Please Granny. That’s enough, you win. You’re a remarkably strong boxer for your age” I said. As I looked at the ferocious old lady with the stern face, I realised that she must have been quite good looking when she was younger. In fact my groin felt quite tight at the sight of this Old Age Pensioner who had just knocked me down with her boxing gloves.

WHAM WHAM WHAM frighteningly powerful punches devastated my face. “For my age. What do you mean by that? I’ll show you what I can do for my age” she said angrily, her face a cold emotionless mask of determination. BAM BAM BAM I tried to raise my arms to protect my face but she just tore them apart with her fists. BAM BAM BAM BAM non-stop fists powering like a piston engine slaughtered me. My world became a continual whirlwind of powerful blows to my face, chest and gut. BAM BAM BAM I was unable to stop my Great-Grandmother’s frightening onslaught. BAM BAM, My head span and my ears rang under the hail of strong punches. WHAM BAM thank you mam. Wherever I tried to protect, her gloves quickly targeted another spot on my battered body and let rip. BAM WAM WHAM! A devastating upper cut exploded on my jaw. I felt my head driven back hard, my vision blur and my knees go weak.

Warm red light bathes me. I open my eyes to find myself on the carpet. Ow, my chin feels sore and my face battered. I feel my chin before remembering that I had been wearing boxing gloves that have now been removed. It all came flooding back to me. I couldn’t believe it; I had just had my lights well and truly punched out by a woman nearly three times my age!

“No Armstrong on my side of the family have a glass jaw” a voice tells me. “It must be from that mother of yours. Always thought she was a bit soft”.

I look in the direction the voice is coming from. To my surprise Great Grandma had changed out of her prim and proper Victorian clothing into something more modern and much more revealing. The white haired woman wore a simple sleeveless white T-shirt banded by multi-coloured stripes. Although she was a bit plump around the waist, the thin cotton material emphasized a flat but broad stomach. The neck was very low cut revealing a dramatically deep cleavage plunging between massive mounds of mature bosom that thrust forward in a very exciting manner. A tiny pair of light blue shorts was worn over flesh coloured tights. From my vantage point on the carpet, I could see that she had a great pair of legs. She really had quite a hot looking body for such an old lady.