Shelley and the School Bully

By change

Hey. This is my first attempt at a story, apart from one back on the original forums, but that was lame and true. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I thought I'd give it a shot. It's got a long intro, which I personally usually hate, but I hope you all enjoy it, and I'd appreciate honest feedback! I've never tried this before... so be nice :)

At Dean Farrell's school, it was the last day before they closed for the summer break. All of the students were getting a little overexcited, and even the teachers were having some fun. The sweltering heat of the day was driving everyone that little bit wilder. But now that lunch break was over and the school was settling in to the final hour of lessons, there was an eerie sense of calm over everyone.

General Studies. Dean's favorite lesson. Such a pointless subject, it was a wonder that anyone ever actually turned up. But as a self-appointed class clown, Dean was in his element here. Apart from the few brief lectures about drugs, choosing the right university, or addressing social dilemmas, he was given free silence to mess around and make the class roar with laughter. He had a callous sense of humor, often inflicted upon the poor, slightly dense Miss Campbell. Light hearted, but still slightly weary, she would often leave the students alone with an activity, while she would escape from the chaos to go and chat with her friends in the staff room.

This lesson was basically no different. They had no time to watch a video by now, and they weren't allowed to leave early. So Miss Campbell gave a token lesson about the law structure, handing out a few work sheets before wandering off to indulge in the last cup of coffee for the year with her buddy, Mr. Bannister.

Most of the class was just chatting and planning their upcoming holiday. But Shelley Buckley was diligently completing the exercise given to her. One of the few people in the room not to have converted their sheet into a missile, and by far, the only one who could be bothered to do it. An extremely attractive girl in her own right, but intelligence is often the great anti-aphrodisiac for 19 year old boys. She didn't bother much with her appearance, but she exuded a true beauty that actually caused a few of the jocks - such as Dean - to make advances at her.

They knew in their hearts that their advances were only partially sarcastic. Few men could resist her sharp, piercing blue eyes, contrasted intensely by the flowing mane of pitch black hair. She had a classic beauty in her features, the type so pure that there was no need to augment it with lipstick or foundation. Her body was slender and athletic, a side product of the ballet training she was forced into for much of her childhood. But her unflattering choices in clothing disguised her form, almost camouflaging her firm, ample breasts and wide, feminine hips.

But she was so often overlooked, as she focused so intensely on her work. She didn't have many close friends, but she was fairly well liked, due to her gentle, friendly nature. She was much happier at home, where she would spend the odd few hours between studying watching videos. She had a great collection of films, Bruce Lee, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Steven Seagal. The classics. It was an outlet for the aggression that she kept so well disguised, most of the time.

But back in the classroom, Dean was getting bored.

"Hey Shell," Dean shouted suddenly, grasping her attention and snatching her away from her work. She glanced sweetly over at him as he continued. "Why don't you put that pencil down, and come over here and play with mine?"

The students all tittered, but she kept a poker face. Secretly, she nearly laughed hardest of all.

"Shit, is he serious? He sounds like something out of a tacky 80's high-school movie?" she thought to herself. How she hated it when he did this to her, though. She didn't see herself as beautiful. She was far too absorbed by her pastimes to know that. It hurt when they made comments like these. Bastard.

"I'll probably never see you again, Shelley. Do you want to go out to the supply cupboard and..." he made some ridiculous suggestive noise that put the whole class into hysterics. But Shelley wasn't amused.

"You prick. Why don't you just fuck off! Stop doing this to me!" she was thinking, but she would never bring herself to say it. How she wished she could! But it would only humiliate her.

It made no difference that this was probably the last time that they would cross paths. The years had taken their toll on her. She had no idea that he was doing this because he really liked her. And the truth was she would make a much better girlfriend than any of those shallow sluts that he was normally seen with. If only she could get her mind off her work for long enough to see it...

"Come on Shell! I'll give you a send off you'll never forget!" he said, grinning that hyena-like grin of his. But this was too much for her. She slammed her pencil down and ran off, in tears. The classroom sniggered, not so much in malicious delight, but more to avoid receiving the wrath of Dean next. He smiled, but it was tainted by regret. He liked her a lot, that's why he made fun of her. He didn't want to see her get upset.

She was out of here. She couldn't bear to hang around for another second. School was out soon anyway, so fuck them all.

"Does he think it's funny?" She thought, sobbing quietly as she walked home. "No guy could ever like me, so he has to point that out to me? Why! Why is he such a horrible person!"

Again, the fact that she had just left that school forever made little difference to her. She would probably go to a great college somewhere else in the country and never see him again. She was furious. The last few years had worn her down so much, she felt like just going to bed and crying herself to sleep.

Nobody was home. Her parents were away for a couple of weeks, and knowing how responsible she was, they left her alone to look after the place. She slumped down onto her sofa and wiped the tears from her eyes. Still in her school uniform of a white shirt, black tie, and a modest skirt (short, but much longer than the belt/skirt hybrids that some girls wore) she had no intention to undress.

Wearily reaching over to the remote control, she clicked on Steven Seagal's Under Siege, already placed in her VCR. Drifting off, she found that she had fallen asleep, and was awakened by a knock at the door. Gunfire and explosions roared from the television, and she realized that this was near the end. So, she turned the TV off and forced herself up as she went to the door. "It's probably Hannah asking me if I wanna go out drinking with her again... no thanks..."

But when she opened the door, she looked out with bleary eyes to see that it was Dean Farrell. She wondered if this was a dream. Why would he ever turn up at her house?

Prior after-school pranks had told him where she lived. He had obviously thought about what he was going to say.

"Shelley... may I come in?" He kinda forced himself in, closing the door behind him. This was it... he was finally going to go for it. She was too tired and confused to resist, but when he was finally in, she began to feel threatened.

"I was thinking about how I made you cry earlier," he was being genuine, but he still said it with his almost semi-permanent grin - needless to say, Shelley would misread that "and I just... well, you're real... I think you're really beautiful, errm..."

He was stumbling over his words, out of pure nervousness. But they stung her sharply, bringing back dreadful memories of what he had put her through. Offended, she lashed out with a slap around his face. Unprepared, he brought his arm up to block, and instead struck her in the left breast. She fell to the floor in agony, clutching her stinging injury.

"Oh my God Shelley, I'm so sorry..." he said, leaning over to help her up. He had made one fatal mistake though - he chuckled slightly. To him, it was just a nervous reaction, but to her, it said so much more. As he was leaning over her, nervous thoughts went through her mind.

"Oh no... what's he doing? Is he going to try to rape... shit! SHIT!" she thought. No, not this time. She'd taken this for too long; it was time to fight back. As he smirking leaned over her, she swung a tightly clenched fist directly up between his legs, with all of the force she could manage. She could feel that she had hit him directly in the balls, and he yelped as he realized what she had done.

He moaned as he slumped backwards against the front door, but managed to stay on his feet. The pain was intense, and he had both hands clasped over his aching package. "Oh, you bitch..."

Shelley froze as she realized the reality of what was happening. This man was in her home, and she was alone. The neighbors were too far away from her detached house to hear her cries. But she had told him that she wasn't going to take anything lying down. She straightened her back as she looked at Dean, still clearly hurting. Rage over came him as he lifted his right arm up high, looking as if he was going to strike her. It was a bluff, a typical Dean maneuver. He could never hit Shelley. But she didn't know that. Panic overcame her again, and she decided she had to take action. Her right hand shot with deadly accuracy onto his crotch, and she caught both of his already aching nuts in a firm grasp.

"Back the fuck off Dean!!" she shouted - God... I actually said it, she thought. After all these years, she was standing up for herself. She wasn't holding his balls tightly enough to hurt him, but it wasn't pleasant for him.

She's crazy! Dean thought. So he did the most sensible thing he thought he could do. He slapped her round the face.

That was all it took to push her into a frenzy. She was already agitated enough, but this attack told her that he wasn't fooling around. So with bitter determination, she squeezed his balls tightly. He yelped and slapped her again - big mistake. She squeezed harder still, and began to twist. Dean yelled and fell to his knees, unable to form any words to deter her. She pulled his nuts sharply once, and then continued to apply her vice grip on him.

Dean was in agony. He was already sore from the punch, but the punishment she was applying now was unbearable. He could do nothing but slump down onto his back, while she maneuvered herself on top of his firm, muscular body. She was still squeezing hard enough to paralyze her attacker, and when he began to speak, she slapped her free hand over his mouth.

"I don't want to hear it, you fucking prick," she whispered calmly. "You've made my life hell these last years. Now you're going to pay for it. You come into my home while I'm alone and you attack me?" She intensified her grip, and his eyes widened in pain as his cries were muffled by her hand, "well I'm going to make you feel what I've been feeling for the last few years, you son of a bitch."

She casually removed a sock with one hand, never releasing her grip on his testicles. She had been holding him like this for almost a minute now, and he was becoming delirious with the pain. She finally let go of his balls, but he was in too much pain to move. She removed her other sock, and calmly placed as much as she could of the sweaty clothing into his trembling mouth. Using the other long, knee length sock, she firmly tied it around his head, gagging him completely. She could never hear his protests now, but he was still unable to fight back.

Flipping him over, she removed her tie and forced his hands away from his agonized groin. Firmly tying both hands behind his back, she flipped him over again.

Now she had him. He couldn’t scream, and he couldn’t fight back.

“What… what the hell am I doing?” she thought to herself. She wasn’t thinking much about the consequences beyond this moment. But the memories came flooding back, and her conscience was distracted. She knew what she had to do to this bully.

Kneeling down next to him, he looked up at her with tragic eyes. He only wanted to tell her the truth, but the circumstance had turned things this way. He had never dreamed that she would over power him like this. And he had never dreamed that someone would finally get their revenge for his callous nature.

She nervously clenched her fist and punched his swollen balls, only lightly. He let out a loud “umph” and she giggled slightly. She couldn’t see what she was doing, so she calmly unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped him and pulled his trousers down and off over his limp legs. He winced, but his protests were muffled by the gag. He lay there in his boxer shorts, his ample genitalia on display beneath the loose clothing. She smiled as she timidly hit his balls a little harder, and again, he moaned. Punching a third time, harder still, she was already beginning to gain confidence. Finally, she was able to wind back and whack Dean’s testicles with a stiff blow, causing a satisfying smacking noise, and a faint scream of pain.

Shelley’s beautiful blue eyes widened as she realized the power she now had over him. All the aggression finally had an outlet. And she was going to make this bastard pay. Perching herself over his legs, sitting down on his knees so that he was pinned firmly in place, she punched him again, this time only half strength. She could hear his cries, but she didn’t care. If only he knew how much she had cried over him!

Punching again, a little harder, she followed it up closely with a left hook. And then a right. Back and forth, keeping up the abuse. His nuts exploded with pain every time she made contact – and almost every blow hit both balls square. She lost count of how many times she was punching his sack – giggling with delight as he squirmed with pain; she was no longer restraining herself. Punching over and over again, the little bulging targets visible through loose underwear. Smack! Smack! Smack! How she loved that sound!

Going over to gloat, she stood up, and walked over to his head. Dean was in agony, but he was still able to sneak a peak right up her skirt. Her panties were slightly wet from excitement, and even through the pain in his groin, he managed to gradually build an erection. Shelley caught a glimpse of this, but wasn’t too pleased.

“You bastard! You’re looking up at my… my… you…” She had never understood why a man would look at her this way. So she saw it only as a threat. Walking back over to his legs with determination, she nearly ripped his boxer shorts off as she drew them down and over his feet. Throwing them against the wall, she caught a glimpse of his stiff cock. She was amazed… but still threatened by it all. Was he still going to try to rape her?

Crouching down over him she used her left hand to hold his erection flat up against his body. She touched it gingerly, not quite sure what to expect. But with his penis firmly out of her way, she screamed “Pervert!!!” and punched his sack with all of her might, delivering a fierce blow to his naked balls with her other hand.

He snapped out of his momentary excitement, and screamed at the top of his lungs. But the cries were pathetic, and barely even audible.

He lost most of the erection, but it still remained fairly upright. She was amazed by this. A thought entered her mind. Should she? No… that would be crazy! But… well…

The moment overcame her, and she clasped his cock firmly in her right hand. Not quite sure what to do, she tried rubbing it. Slowly the technique came to her, and she had a mysterious smile on her face as she jerked him off, right there in her own hallway. He regained his erection in no time. He had been secretly fanaticizing about this for years now! Faster and faster she pulled, for only a couple of minutes until he came. She had never seen it before – that thick, white liquid shooting out like that. Luckily it missed her, but it had come back down onto his shirt. As he moaned in ecstasy, she pulled a tissue out of her skirt pocket (a practical alteration she had made herself) and wiped the cum off of Dean’s clothing.

Shelley had lost her virginity. At least, it felt that way to her. And it had all happened so fast. Normally she would never have done something this crazy. But the emotion of the event had driven her almost mad.

Flipping the satisfied jock over onto his belly, she decided that he had had enough pleasure. He tried to rape her!! So as excited moans still emerged from behind his sock-filled mouth, she carefully positioned her bare foot over his nutsack, loosely resting on the carpet below.

She felt a rush of excitement as she forced her foot down onto both balls, reawakening the pain from inside of him. Muffled cries could be heard, but she barely noticed them. She ground his testicles into the floor, exerting much of her weight onto them. The carpet protected them somewhat, but she only forced her foot down harder. She could feel his naked balls squishing and flattening on her bare feet, and she could only let out a loud laugh, in delight of what she was doing to this bastard. His legs were kicking, and his bound arms shaking, but he was defenseless against this feeble little girl. How highly he thought of himself. So good at sports, but this girl was owning him. She felt the same way, but took great pleasure from it.

Finally ending the punishment, she stretched her leg back off his slightly swollen sack, but maliciously unleashed a fierce kick to his loosely hanging balls. He convulsed on the floor, and quietly began to cry.

Turning him over, she saw the tears dripping from his eyes. This punishment had been going on for what felt like an hour to him, but it must have been only a matter of minutes. “Aww, is the big bully getting upset?” She dropped a knee onto his naked groin, her whole weight crashing down on him. “Good! You arrogant…” he was screaming so loud that even while he was gagged, he could no longer hear what she was saying. But then he realized what she was doing now.

I’ve got you by the balls, eh Dean?” Shelley said with delight as she gripped hold of his loosely dangling nuts. They felt warm and strange in her bare hand, but she liked it! She squeezed, tighter and tighter while he squirmed beneath him. She looked so sweet in her white shirt, a skirt and nothing else – but she had put him though hell. Twisting side to side, applying more and more pressure, until her knuckles went white, Dean couldn’t take much more.

Shelley then, taking her initial pose, slumped down over Dean’s legs, and continued the assault. She now used her left hand to grasp the left ball. She had one ball in each of her tiny hands, and she continued the pressure, squeezing harder and harder now, giving each ball the odd twist, to a symphony of muffled cries. Tears were streaming down the bully’s face, and Shelley was getting more and more satisfied by it all, as she was torturing this bastard for all that he had done to her.

Finally, he could take it no more, and drifted into merciful unconsciousness. Shelley squeezed his balls tightly – nothing. She released her grip and gave him a good, hard punch in the sack. Yet he didn’t move. She had worked him over until he passed out.

She went to bed that night and masturbated. The excitement had been far too intense for her, and she orgasmed so fiercely that she feared that SHE might pass out. But she slept well, and awoke to find Dean still unconscious.

She felt terrible. His parents didn’t care, since they assumed that he was off with his friends, again. For the rest of the day, she slowly nursed him, apologizing profusely for what she had done. With her sat next to him sweetly, tending to his swollen and aching balls, he found – against all better judgment – that he was unable to hate this girl. He was so deeply in love with her; he could forgive her for anything. And he knew he deserved it.

Shelley Farrell would often remind Dean about that crazy day, long after they were married. He wasn't at all bitter about it - but he learned to respect people's feelings, and most importantly of all - SHELLEY'S.