Revenge Night 2

[Smack My Nuts]

It's revenge night again.  It's been a month since I last gave some jerks a good what-for and I'm eagerly anticipating doing it again.  Once more I've got a list of three names and locations.  And once more I'm getting all tarted up because nothing gets a man's guard down like a pretty woman.  We studied that in my psychology class, you know, there was a study where they showed men pictures of pretty women before the men made a financial choice and the result was that the men acted irrationally.  Pretty women are every guy's weakness.  Well, one of their weaknesses.

So, I am dressed to kill tonight.  I've got on my halter top showing off my "cleavage as big as all Texas" as Becky put it and a nice short tennis skirt which shows lots of leg, and almost shows more if I were to bend over a little.  And as I do up my make-up and hair, I think about the balls I'm going to kick tonight and think of the nasty boys writhing in pain, and boy am I ready to get started.

My first stop is in one of the frat houses.  Usually, to get in, I'd have to say who I'm there to talk to, but tonight they're throwing a party.  A little cleavage squeeze and a little smile and, hey look at that, my name's on the guest list, and I didn't even tell him what my name was.  Because he could be down at the party or up in his room, Becky made sure to give me a really good description of my target.  She sent me some of his pictures she'd found on Facebook so I'd be sure to recognize him.  I breeze in and check the dance floor first.  He's not there, so I head up to his room.  I find him in the otherwise empty third floor hallway, walking some drunk chick towards his room.  He's a little buzzed clearly, I can hear how loose his tongue is as he prattles to her, but she's about gone.  She's having trouble standing.  And he's helping her back to his room still rattling on about how they're gonna go "have some fun".

I'm gonna have to play this one a little differently.  No guy likes a cockblock, even a pretty one.  But still, it shouldn't be too hard.  This guy is already thinking with his dick, not his head.

"Hey, Nancy!  I haven't seen you in forever!"  They both look up at me.  She still looks out of it, but he looks confused.

"I thought her name was Susan."

"Oh, sorry, did I blow your cover?"  Turning to him, I say, "Don't worry about it.  She sometimes gives fake names when she's just looking for a little fun.  You seem like the sort of guy who likes to have fun."

"Yeah, sure am," he says, and starts to move his focus away from me and back to her.

"You know, last time I was talking to her, I promised her that I'd join her in a three-way one of these nights."  Clearly I'd said the magic word because his face lights up like he's just won the lottery.

"You do three-ways?" He says looking at me and at her.  Her eyes are pretty well glazed over and she doesn't even respond to any of this except to grunt a little.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you about my favorite type," I say, drawing closer.  "It's a little freaky something I like to call 'two balls one foot'."

"What?" he has a lovely expression of confusion on his face for a moment.

And before the meaning could dawn on him, I yell, "This!" and kick him square in the nuts.  With the alcohol numbing his nerves, it clearly takes a moment to sink in.  And as he sinks to his knees, he doesn't cover his crotch, so I give him an extra one to make sure it really got him good.

As he lies on the ground clutching his groin and moaning in pain, I come over and squat beside him and lean in close to his ear.  "Becky says hi."  He groans a little louder.  "And you might think that I'm just here to punish you for what you did to her, but I'm mostly here to give you a warning.  I'm not the only crazy bitch in our sorority.  The other one is Maria.  Maria isn't so nice as me.  Those parts of yours I just kicked, she'd have cut them off.  And she knows what you like and she's a drama major and she's real good at acting drunk.  So next time you think about dragging some girl who's drunk off of her ass up to your room for some fun, I think you'd better be really sure that it isn't Maria or else no more fun for you, ever.

"Oh, though, I should mention, that I am also here to punish you."

He has rolled over so that he was mostly facing the floor.  So I get behind him and pick up his feet so that we're in something like the wheelbarrow position except that his hands are still covering his balls.  Then I step forward and deliver a hard kick right to his nuts.  From his reaction, it's clear that his hands aren't helping much.  I kick him again and then again.  Each time he jerks and groans.  Then, on the fourth kick, I really get my whole body into it, even pulling him back using my arms so that my foot will hit even harder, and he yells and then vomits.  I figure that's enough.

Even with that good a kicking, I know that he might recover in a few minutes and finish dragging Susan to his room, since she's slumped against the wall and still looking really out of it.  So I do the simplest thing I can think of to prevent it.  Wrapping my list paper around the handle to avoid leaving fingerprints, I pull the third floor fire alarm.  And soon I am in the masses of people outside on the lawn, waiting for the firemen to clear the building for reentry.  And before either Susan or the jerk makes it out, I slip away, moving on to my next victim.

This one is in a dorm.  No pictures, this time, just a name and a room number.  I follow someone else into MacAllister Hall to avoid having to swipe my card (the less record of my presence, the better) and take the elevator up to the sixth floor.  The sixth floor is pretty empty and room 601 is easy to locate.  When I approached I can see that the door had been left cracked open.  Most of the rooms in this dorm are singles, so I figure that the odds are good that I'll find him alone.  So I take the straight-forward approach and pushed the door open and say "Hi!"

He's seated at his desk studying and clearly not expecting a girl to suddenly show up at his door.  He's cuter than I'd expected.  He's a touch taller than me, maybe six feet tall, with sandy blond hair and broad shoulders.  He looks like he works out.  But when he speaks, saying "Umm, hi.  Can I help you?" he sounds more bashful than arrogant.  I've gotten used to these guys looking good.  Many of the ones most in need of a good foot to the crotch have spent their whole lives getting by on their looks.  But most of them still sound like bastards often dripping with an arrogant belief that any pretty woman is there to be their plaything.  This fellow doesn't sound like that.  But I don't think too much of it some guys sound smoother than others.  I'm at the right room, so this must be the right guy.

"Yeah, I could really use your help, can you come over here?" I ask.

He looks a little confused, but obliging, so he gets up from his seat and moves towards me.  As soon as he gets within range, wham, out goes my leg, burying my foot right in his crotch.  Even through my shoe, I can feel that I've gotten him right in his balls.  The air goes right out of him and he collapses like a sack of potatoes.

I come and stand over him, as he moans and writhes on the ground.  "That's for what you did to Darla!" I say.

"Who?" he manages to moan.

"Darla, your girlfriend."

"Who?" he moans again.

"Don't play dumb, Steve.  It's too late for that.  You dated Darla for four months."

"Who?" once more.

"Darla!  Your girlfriend!"

"No, who's Steve?" he manages to say, getting things together a little more, although there's still a lot of pain in his voice.

"You're Steve?" I say, sounding quite a bit less sure than I'd meant to.

"I'm Brian," he claims, quietly.

I think to look at his desk and see a homework assignment.  Sure enough, the name on it is Brian.  And I pull my list out of my pocket and look at it and realize that I'm in the wrong room.  I turn and run, leaving him moaning on the floor holding his crotch.  I make it to the stairwell without any sign of anyone else seeing me.  I get down about a floor and a half and then stop on a landing to take stock of everything.  Looking at my list, I realize what went wrong.  When I left the frat house, I had glanced at the list to check the room number.  I'd remembered the dorm and the name, but just checked the room number for the middle entry from the list.  And in the low light and my haste, I hadn't realized that I'd been holding it upside-down.  I wasn't supposed to be in 601.  I was supposed to be in 109.

This is not how things are supposed to go on revenge night.  I am smooth and powerful and in control.  I make men who deserve it clutch their balls and regret the day that they ever crossed a woman.  I don't accidentally kick some random guy in the balls for no reason.  Except that, obviously, I just did.  ...  Crap.

But as much as I feel bad from Brian, I keep finding myself thinking about Steve and what he did to Darla.  How she would come back to the dorm crying three times a week after the things he'd say to her and how it turned out that he'd been running around on her the whole time that he'd been laying guilt trips on her for even talking to guys in class.  His balls, they need kicking.  They deserve kicking, and I can't just sit here in the stairwell feeling sorry for Brian and that's not going to fix anything anyway, so I pull myself together and head downstairs.

The door to room 109 is closed, but when I knock, I hear stirring inside.  I pound harder.  After a minute or so, I hear someone unlock the deadbolt and the door opens just a crack and a gruff voice from a guy says "What do you want?"  I can see through the crack that there's a girl in the bed but the guy is hiding behind the door.  I figure out quickly that I'm interrupting something sexual.

Not wanting to repeat my mistake, I ask "Steve?"

"What?" he replies, sounding increasingly impatient.

Rather than answer, I kick the door knocking it open and causing him to stagger backwards.  I step quickly into the room.  He's naked except for a condom which covers his erection as it waggles in front of him as he staggers.  Without waiting for him to catch his balance, I snap a kick right into his exposed balls.  My toe strikes them perfectly and he goes down and starts yelling in pain.  He rolls over onto his back for a moment and I quickly step in and give them another stomp from above.  He grabs his balls, but I manage one more stomp before he rolls on his side.  I got my full weight into that stomp, so I don't think that his hands protected him very well.  He lies on the floor, moaning and making little whimpering noises.

"That's for how you treated Darla!" I yell over his noises of suffering.  I turn to the girl in the bed and say "He's nice when he's still trying to get you, but he specializes in making his girlfriends feel like shit.  You should stay away from him."

She starts to reply, but I'm out the door before she gets anything out.  I'd like to kick his balls a little more and maybe give him a speech about how he wronged Darla to encourage him to mend his ways, but the girl is an unknown quantity, and I don't want to risk getting into a cat-fight or having her call the cops.  I may have to come back and give him another busting some other time to make sure he got the message.

Soon I'm out of the dorm and headed across campus.  This time, I'm headed for an academic building.  It takes me about ten minutes to get there.  It's almost a little eerie, going into the math building at this time of night, but I know from my sorority sister that her scuzzy TA is usually in his office grading papers late in the evening.  I also know that he schedules conferences with some of his female students this late to get them alone, so as I approach his hall, I listen carefully to make sure that there's no other voices.

I don't hear anyone else, so I approach the door.  He's definitely alone and the sound of my steps in the empty hallway alert him to my presence.  When I get to the doorway, he's already looking my way.  "Hello, can I help you with something?" he asks.

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with some of the homework," I ask.

"You're not in either of my recitation sections," he says, "I would remember you."

I worry for a moment that he might be on to me, but I figure that there's no reason not to bluff.  "Yeah.  I'm in one of the other sections," I say, "but my TA wasn't helpful and one of my friends told me that you really know what you're talking about."

"Well, uh, thanks," he says.  "I guess I could help you out."

I sit down in the chair which was sitting next to his, crossing my legs to help show them off.  "My TA gets all flustered around girls, but my friend says you know just what to do."  I smile, lean forward, showing off my boobs, and place my hand on his thigh.  I could feel his thigh clench and then relax when I touched it.

"Uh, yes.  Yes, I do," he stammers.

I start to rub his thigh gently moving my hand towards his crotch.  "How about you show me what you're working with?" I say, giving him a broad smile.  "Maybe I can help you out before you help me out?  I'm told I have very soft hands.  I bet I could do a great job of helping you out, if you don't mind letting me wrap them around you."

He understands exactly what I'm suggesting.  "Yeah," he smiles, "that sounds really nice."

"Well," I say, smiling and squeezing my cleavage between my arms, "get it out then, and I'll get to work."

He stands up and unbuttons his shorts.  Then he pulls down his shorts and underwear together.  His hard cock springs free.  Beneath it dangle two impressively large balls.  I reach out with both hands and take a ball in each hand.

"Wow!  Look at these," I say, genuinely impressed with their size.

"Yeah," he says, "They are quite -- Ow!"  He interrupts himself when I start to squeeze.  "Hey, be careful."  I squeeze harder.  "No, please!  Oh god!"  He grabs onto my wrists, but to no avail.

I start alternating my squeezes, first clamping down hard on his right ball and then letting up on that one and squeezing hard on his left one.  And then his right and then his left.  After about five seconds of this, his erection is gone.  After ten seconds, he starts making pained sounds which don't even form words any more.  I keep it up for about another minute.

Then I relax my hands to a gentle squeeze.  He starts to try to pull at my hands, and I squeeze down hard on both balls.  I hold a really hard squeeze for another ten seconds or so and then let up just a little bit and ask him, "Ready to listen and not fight back?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay," he manages to stammer out.

I relax my grip again.  This time he doesn't try to get free.  "As you've probably figured out, I'm not really here to seduce you.  You used your position as a TA to pressure one of your students into sex."

"I didn't … we only have sex if they want to have sex."

"No, I promise you, she did not want to have sex with you.  She felt dirty afterwards for giving in to your sleazy pressure.  And she told us all about it, all about everything you said and everything you did.  You can make whatever excuses to yourself you want, but when you start making sexual comments about a woman's body and her imagined sex life in between comments about her grade, that's coercion.  The only reason you still have a job is because she doesn't want to risk her reputation by admitting to what she did in response to the pressure.  But she did tell us.  And we told every sorority on campus and told everyone to tell all their friends.  So I am the last woman who will enter your office without making sure that the phone in their purse is recording every single thing you say.  So, if you do anything like this again, your ass will be out of here at light speed.

"Most guys, when I have them by the balls, I ask them to promise never to do it again.  You're not gonna be able to do it again, even if you try.  So I don't need any promises from you.  I'm just hear to deliver that warning and to squeeze the crap out of your balls."  With that, I start to squeeze again.  He moans in pain as I clamp down with both fists, squeezing and then moving my hands a little in the squeeze, rolling his testicles a little in my hands.  This makes his squirm and make squeaking noises which I find I quite enjoy.  I then pull his balls up so forcefully that his body has to follow.  He winds up putting his hands on the chair arms to hold himself up so that the pressure from my pulling doesn't rip his balls off.  I switch my hold so that I have one hand wrapped around his balls and with the other, I make a fist and rear it back.  I smash my fist into his trapped left ball as hard as I can.  He screams and bucks against my grasp, likely causing himself more pain.  No one is around to hear his screams.  Next I punch him in his right ball as hard as I can and then I let him go.  He collapses into his seat and immediately curls up into a ball.  I hear him making pained, whimpering noises as I leave.

I stride out of the academic building and head for home, ready to share the stories of what I've accomplished with my sisters and hear them laugh at the tales of the boys writhing on the floor in pain.  I'll do my best to make the right noises, but it just can't ever be quite the same.  One of these days, I need to bring one of the boys back and let everyone work him over together so that they can really experience it for themselves.  But for tonight, the stories will be enough for them.