("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
First Time Ball Bashing
by Sturgeon (zturgeon@aol.com)
***
Three different women's experiences with ball busting.
(Fdom/M, v)
***
Jeanine:
The first time I crushed a guy's balls was when I was
playing with my older brother. He was thirteen at the
time and two years older than me. We were sort of
rolling around wrestling... and he used to kill me
because he was bigger and stronger. And I was trying to
squirm out from under him and I accidentally kneed him
in the balls.
He rolled onto his side, clutching himself and
thrashing, sobbing in a weird way that made him sound
like an animal. I was frightened, to tell you the truth.
I thought I might have really injured him. He was
moaning and gasping so long I asked him if he wanted me
to call Mom at work, and he shouted, "No!" So I said,
fine, and just walked out of the room.
I was still a little worried, but if he didn't want me
to call anyone it couldn't be too bad.
I was surprised at how brave he was, though, cause the
next day he got into another wrestling match with me.
The problem was I was worried that I'd do the same thing
again, so I played kind of light. And he didn't -- AT
ALL. He was meaner than ever, and I guessed that he was
being so rough cause he wanted to get back at me, or
cause he thought he showed too much weakness the day
before.
Anyway, when I say "rough" I mean he was really being a
vicious little bastard. He was giving me charlie-horses,
yanking my hair, all that bullshit. Finally he slapped
my face, and that was just too much.
I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I was starting to
cry, and I thought Fuck this, you know. So again I
rammed him with my knee (I grunted as I did it, I
remember that). I RAMMED my knee into his balls.
He wound up in the same position, making the same damn
animal wails, but this time even louder and more
desperate. I dunno, either he hadn't fully gotten over
the pain from the day before, or maybe I just hit him
harder. I think I probably just hit him harder: I was
really pissed and wanted him to hurt.
I admit that I wasn't so concerned about him this
moment. I mean, I had welts on my body; I was going to
get bruises from him. So when he was collapsed and
rolling around on the floor, clutching at his nuts, I
just walked up behind him and started yanking his hair
and pinching his face.
He tried to brush my hands away but he was pretty
defenseless. I screamed at him that if he EVER laid a
hand on me again, I'd kill him. After I let go of him I
kicked him in the butt then walked away.
My brother was pretty decent to me from then on. I mean,
I used to see other girls -- friends of mine -- getting
beat up and shit by their brothers all the time. I tried
to tell them what was up, you know, how to deal with it,
but they almost never listened.
The only other time that my brother messed with me
enough to piss me off enough to make me unveil the
secret weapon again was like four years later. I was
fifteen, he was seventeen.
We were both dating people and all that -- he was into
the cool, tough, teenage boy thing. Very typical
southern boy, you know. I was with a friend of mine who
he liked, and whenever he was around her he would
pretend to be super witty, and usually make lots of dumb
verbal jabs at me, trying to impress her with his wit or
whatever. And I don't know exactly what set me off.
My brother made some dumb remark -- I don't even
remember exactly what it was -- and then he turned away.
Even my friend she was surprised by the cruelty of
whatever it was he said. She didn't laugh at all, and I
think it might've been seeing her reaction that
confirmed for me that what he said really was out of
line.
Anyway, I lashed out and punched my brother in the back
of the head. My fist sort of went thump, and he turned
around real slowly. And he just stared at me for a
second. Then he said in this quiet, quivering voice,
"You... stupid... cunt!"
And my response was really, really smooth -- I kicked
out and the top of toes connected perfectly into his
balls. He fell to his knees, gasping, gasping, his hands
cupped over his balls and cock. I stepped over, put my
hand on his head, and told him he ought to start being
more of a gentleman. Then I slapped him a good one.
Lucy:
The first time I ever nailed a guy there, it was because
he was trying to rape me. Not like some stranger hurling
me to the ground in a dark alley, though. It was my
boyfriend.
I had been dating him for about a year and a half and we
really liked each other. It was a pretty good
relationship on the whole; it's just that on this
occasion he woke me up to have sex with him. He had come
home late from work the night before and I was asleep.
That morning he was overly persistent. I shook my head;
told him I didn't feel like it. I said, NO, loud and
clear. Nothing dissuaded him though, he kept nuzzling
me, kissing me, caressing me, on and on. He was really
being a pest.
I was trying to seal myself up like a fortress, but he
just kept hounding me. Finally I felt his hard cock
rubbing against my hip, and him trying to roll me over,
he was sort of on his hands and knees above me. As soon
as I knew he wasn't going to take no for an answer, I'd
had enough.
I hadn't ever snapped like that before, but I was glad I
did. He deserved it. He denied it later, but -- quite
simply -- he was trying to rape me.
What I did was I put my right hand behind his head,
slipped my left fist under his groin and simultaneously
tugged real hard on his hair and I hammered at his balls
with my left fist. I don't know how exactly many times I
hit him there, but it was at least three time if not
four. He couldn't really break free, you know? I had a
really strong grip on his hair, and he was pretty
exposed. They had been really good, solid knuckle-blows
to his testicles.
He fell away and landed on the floor beside the bed and
lay there crying for a while, then finally he got up and
limped away. He left the apartment and went to a
friend's house. I still don't know what he told that
friend.
Anyway, in case you're wondering, we stopped seeing each
other. He didn't seem to like the idea of a woman who
wouldn't back down. I learned a lot about men from that
experience.
Rebecca:
I don't remember the first time I did it. It must have
been when I was a little girl. I mean, it's something
I've always known about, something I've always done when
needed. It's their weakness, you use it to even things
out. They've got stronger arms and shoulders, so unless
you like being pushed around you have to exploit their
weakness.
I used to do it a lot during junior high school. I was
so bad: I'd totally do it in public too. In co-ed soccer
games, if a guy stole the ball from me, next time I got
close enough to him and could make it look like an
accident, I'd kick him in the balls. I loved doing it,
watching the guy reduced to a crumpled up little thing
lying there on the grass. I could barely keep myself
from smiling, and laughing, and cheering at his pain!
Finally the coach dropped me from the team.
That didn't stop me though: I took karate, and used to
spar with guys. It was really a joke: they'd always
dance around like boxers, trying to look very slick. I
think even if I didn't keep crushing their jewels I
still would've won most often. But there were at least
eight times I sparred with guys (before I was
permanently banished from the dojo) and each time,
within a minute or so, I kicked their balls hard, and
had them lying on the mat groaning or crying.
There was one guy I sparred with three times, and each
time I smashed his testicles. Finally his parents made
him quit; they were worried they'd never have grandkids.
I used to jokingly go up at that guy at school, right in
front of everyone, and try to get him to go on dates
with me. He used to get incredibly embarrassed.
One time I reached over and cupped my hand over his
groin, shook his penis and his balls briskly, and asked,
"What are you AFRAID of?" He complained to the
principal, and I thought about ambushing him after
school, but I figured I better leave it.
I was more discreet in high school, since I actually
wanted dates and stuff. Eventually I met a guy who could
take it. I think he liked being ruled by me, so he was
willing to deal with the pain and humiliation. I was out
of control with him, though: I totally abused him.
One time he was in the kitchen doing the dishes,
standing at the sink in his boxers, and totally on a
whim -- just because I felt like it -- I hugged him from
behind. Then I reached around his waist and slammed my
fist into his jewels. I held him there, not letting him
go, and hit him a few more times.
He started crying, and wanted to know what he'd done
wrong. What could I say? He didn't do anything wrong, I
just felt like bashing his nuts. He was such a wuss.
There wasn't really anything he could do about it
either. I liked hurting his male organs. I don't know
why. I didn't feel threatened by him. Men are too easy
to manipulate to be threatening. So maybe I'm just a
sadist. Yeah, maybe that's it.
I remember a couple of times I had him lie naked on his
bed. I made him spread his legs, then told him to make a
fist, and holding his wrist, I used his limb like a
hammer, banging his fist into his own balls.
Sometimes I used weapons. Like once I used his shoes:
wrapped his nuts really hard a few times with the sole
of his size-nine Rockports. Once I actually used a
rolling pin, because I thought it would be really funny,
you know, it's such a cliche and everything, the woman
bashing the man with the rolling pin or the frying pan.
I think that hurt him probably more than any other
object I hit him with; it was a good, solid blow and he
was on the kitchen floor for more than an hour, weeping
(although I admit every fifteen minutes or so I'd get
impatient with his whining and go in to abuse him some
more -- but just like to kick him in the ass, punch his
face a few times, kick him in the gut -- I didn't hit
his testicles anymore that day).
I think a few times I probably really hurt guys. It's
hard to say, though, what sort of impact ball-breaking
has. It injures their ego more than anything. That's
really therapeutic, when you think about it. Men slap
women all the time in the home -- they CONSTANTLY bully
their wives and lovers. There is no reason why women
have to take it. They should take advantage of men's
frailties.
***
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 69