Punching Bag Synonym Novels & Stories

JAXON PUNCH! PUNCH! PUNCH! PUNCH! I sent heavy punches at the punching bag, causing it to fly backwards at the weight of my heavy blows. My knuckles were starting to hurt and my wrists were aching so badly, but I wasn't ready to stop punching the bag. All I wanted to do was vent my pent-up anger and frustration into the bag because that was the main reason it was there in the first place. I increased the weight and strength of my punches, delivering heavy blows to the bag. Non-stop.

she yelled at me as I lunged at the bag, giving it my all. In my head the bag turned into Victorias face as I smiled punching with everything I had in me. “Again!” Gail yelled as I punched the bag. “Again!” I didn’t let up on my strength, even my speed increased. Punching like my life depended on it, I finally got the hang of it. “Pathetic,” someone said behind me.

********************************************** *PUNCH* Motherfucking! *PUNCH* Arrogant! *PUNCH* Self-absorbed! *PUNCH* Italian! *PUNCH* Prick! *PUNCH* Sweat ran down my face as my fist continued to make contact with the punching bag. It continued like this for another 30 minutes before I yelled out in frustration and roundhouse kicked the bag harder than necessary, causing it to break the chain connecting it to the ceiling and split in half on the gym floor. One freaking month. Thirty goddamned days!!! That’s how long it’s been since the little excursion with Ace in the basement. My fists clenched at the memory:

“You are simply a toy for my pleasure, and there's no saying when I'll get bored enough to dispose of you.” The words echo mockingly in Ilya’s head as he throws a fist at the punching bag. Sweat trickles down his temple, dripping down his neck, making his hair sticky against his forehead, and soaking through his shirt while his breathing comes out fast and hard. The punch bag swings violently from the impact of Ilya’s blow, the leather groaning with each hit, but Ilya barely notices as his anger fuels him, driving him harder, faster, every hit heavier than the last

I got into a fighting position and threw a couple of punches at the bag then kicked it a couple of times before giving myself a small break and starting back up again. I punched the bag a couple times then kicked the side of it before walking to the dumbbells and leaned over a set, which I picked up and then held them over my head. After holding them above my head for a minute or two, I changed the weight of the dumbbell and did the same with that set. Once, I was done with the dumbbells I walked back over to the punching bags then the gym door opened making me turn my head to see Noah and Nick.

*punch* "Stop, you're hurting him," Amara screamed, her hands shaking as shuffled from one foot to another. "No." *punch* "One." *punch* "Please stop, Dalton. That's enough," Amara cried, begging me to stop. "Touches." *punch* "My wife." *punch* "Like that." *punch* "And." *punch* "Gets." *punch* "Away." *punch* "With it." *punch*

Alex doesn’t notice them at first. Her world has narrowed to rhythm and impact—breath timed to strike, weight shifting, muscle memory burning clean lines through the fog in her head. The punching bag swings like a pendulum, each return answered with violence precise enough to be almost graceful. Elbow. Knee. Low kick. Her thoughts aren’t words anymore. They’re fragments. Flashes. A hand gripping too tightly. A voice saying half breed. A door that never should have closed. She pivots hard, drives a knee up into the bag with enough force to make the chains shriek in protest. Sweat slicks her skin, soaks the borrowed shirt clinging to her back. Her jaw is locked, teeth grinding just shy of crac

I didn’t realize that I was breathing hard and reaching for her like a madman. “Ah ah ah.” She said ticking her finger back and forth. “Use that pent up aggression on the bag.” She said popping her brow and chewing that lip. I looked at her wanting to lick every ounce of sweat off of every inch of that body. Biting my jaw, I stepped beyond her to the bag and with Ronan and myself in this heightened state, swung one punch to the heavy bag and knocked, not only the bag but the chain that connects it to the ceiling, and part of the wood in the ceiling to the other side of the gym. It smashed into the wall leaving a huge dent with the bag fitting snugly inside.

The way I'm feeling right now is a whole different thing that I can't pin down. “ You need to go be with our mate” My wolf says for the hundreds time, ignoring him I keep on punching the bag the muscles in my back are tighter than a knot, sweat drips from my body, my face it was getting in my eyes which didn't bother me one bit, all I know is I got to keep punching the bag until there's nothing left. With not a single thought in mind, I kept punching until my hand ended up on the other side of the bag, and I replaced it with a new one. I was getting ready to start punching when Luke came out of nowhere with both hands in front of him.

~Tia~ Each punch I deliver is harder than the last. The bag sways with the contact. I didn’t bother to wrap my hands or put any gloves on. I came down here and just got started beating the bag as if it were someone I wanted to hurt. I beat the bag as if it were Jenna, Adela, Aida, Luna Kimberly, my dad……