First Times

By Sturgeon

The following scenarios deal with violence of a sexual nature. If reading this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, I don't think you should.

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 I wasn't so concerned about him this time. I mean, I had welts on my body - I was going to get bruises from him - so when he was collapsed on the floor, clutching at his groin and everything, I 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.

And he 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 - it 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 my foot nested perfectly into his groin. 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 good.

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 - and was overly persistent. I shook my head; told him I didn't want to. I said, "No," loud and clear. Nothing dissuaded him though - he kept on 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 pubic hair - he was sort of on his hands and knees above me - and as soon as I felt that, 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 began hammering at his crotch with my left fist. I don't know how exactly many times I hit him there. He couldn't really break free, you know? I had a really strong grip on his hair, and he was pretty exposed. I think I hit him in the groin, I'd say, fifteen times before he managed to slip off the bed onto the floor, but only a few of the blows were good, solid knuckle-blows to his testicles. It was enough, though - he lay there crying for a while, then got up limping 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 kid. I mean, it's something I've always known about. 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, too.

I used to do it a lot during junior high school. I was so bad: I'd totally do it in public. 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: 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 he'd had enough abuse.

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.

There wasn't really anything he could do about it. 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: whapped 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 cliché 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.