Femdom The Italian Ball Buster

This female domination story is entirely fictional and completely my own work.

Please DO NOT read any further if you do not enjoy fictional stories in which males submit to dominant females, either willingly, forcibly, or by coercion. Please DO NOT read if you think that stories like this should end up with the male taking control and beating or fucking the female - If that's your bag, none of my stories are for you. This sounds obvious, but please DO NOT read if you don't like ball busting fantasies!

Please DO read further if you want to learn exactly what the pretty ball buster from Zambrone does to her willing playthings.

Finally, I don't speak Italian so massive apologies to all Italians if I've butchered your beautiful language... I tried my hardest to get it right!

If you like this story, please vote and comment - it helps to marginalise the votes and comments from Trolls, of which, sadly, there are many!

I hope you enjoy!

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The ball buster from Zambrone.

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HOWARD

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Alessia Leoni was at the bar early. Her fellow conference delegates were due to arrive at 7pm, but Alessia found that arriving fifteen minutes ahead of time, and claiming a good spot at the bar, created the best opportunities for men to notice her shoes. From the ankles up she was dressed much like any of the other female delegates at this particular conference; her black, wavy hair was tied back in a braided ballerina bun, exposing and accentuating her neck, her conservative black cocktail dress had a high neck line, covered her shoulders and extended a little way down her arms. It was un-pleated and un-patterned, only slightly sculpted to accommodate her small bosom, and ended in a pencil skirt just above her knees. Her legs were clad in a plain, high denier black nylon and her lips were painted in glossy rouge noir. But her clunky shoes stood-out as being completely out of place. She dressed like her personality, she thought, elegant and geeky, well-balanced and reckless, sophisticated and equally gauche.

In around one time in every five, a man would comment on her strange black shoes with their flat heels, red soles, and the leather of the uppers pressed into an arrangement of small leather pyramids. Alessia would fix her dark eyes with them, and with a husky intonation that she had practiced and delivered dozens of times before, she would say, "these are my ball busting shoes."

The way she delivered it, this line could be construed as being either joking or serious, planting the seed in a man's mind, but leaving plenty of room for retreat.

Sometimes the man would ask, 'jokingly', if she had busted many balls in them, and Alessia would reply, in that same, well-practiced, hard-to-read intonation, "Lots."

Occasionally, if she was lucky, her potential partner would have the courage to ask if she would like to bust HIS balls. She would tell him to go to his room, then follow him five minutes later to have her fun.

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On this night, the first man to meet Alessia at the bar was Howard. She was disappointed at first, as Howard had asked her about her shoes at the same conference a year earlier, but had seemed a little flustered by her answer. Tonight, however, she was very pleasantly surprised as he leaned close to her and said, in a soft and shaky voice, that he noticed she was wearing her ball busters.

Alessia's heart began to pound. Howard's comment told her that he was a special type of plaything - a man who had probably been thinking about her for the last twelve months, fantasising about what she might do to him with her ball busting shoes. She smiled at him sweetly and seductively, her dark Italian eyes glistening in the low, atmospheric light of the hotel bar as she wondered how many orgasms he'd had as he imagined her being mean to him.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

"Yes, very much!" he admitted. The conversation gave him permission to drop his eyes to her feet, and he studied her shoes intently. The black leather was so shiny that it reflected pinpricks of the candle-light-yellow downlights in the ceiling above them, and the little leather pyramids looked a little like those of a meat tenderiser. The heels were stumpy - an unusual choice for a for lady of just 5'3" attending a male-dominated conference, but he realised quickly that she had traded height for stability - low heels were much more practical when one leg was swinging. It excited Howard to think that Alessia had carefully considered the practicality of low heels whilst searching for these particular boots, but it thrilled him more when he realised that she might just have likely chosen them after years of experience.

Alessia swivelled on her bar stool and crossed one leg over the other, bringing a shoe further towards him.

"Do you want me to do it to you?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Howard blushed. His round face began to redden and sweat.

"Will you be naked?" he trembled.

Alessia smiled at him sweetly. "Not for your first time," she said.

He thought for a moment, but quickly realised that this was not a negotiation.

"When could we do it?" he asked.

As soon as the words had left Howard's mouth, Alessia knew that he was hooked, and the excitement and anticipation of what was to come began to quickly build inside her. She was aware that her crotch was hot and urgent. She uncrossed her legs and returned to face the bar.

"Go to your room," she said without looking at him again, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Howard was not an attractive man - he was double her age, grey haired, nudging on obese, and had a chinless face that reminded her of a carp, but it was not the look of a man's face that mattered when she kicked him in his balls, Alessia thought, but rather the look ON it.

"508" Howard spluttered, and quickly scurried away.

She rushed her gin and headed to her room to stock her little hand bag and apply fresh lipstick, then she headed to room 508.

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As soon as Howard opened the door to his room, Alessia strode confidently inside. As she passed him, she looked up at his face with a black look that she hoped he would find intimidating, despite the fact that he was 6'3" and towered over her. He stepped quickly aside to let her pass, caught a waft of her pretty floral perfume, and closed the door softly behind her.

"Thank you for coming..." he stammered, awkwardly.

Alessia threw her dark eyes at him again as though to tell him to shut up, and began to walk around the perimeter of his room, trailing a finger across his desk and wardrobe doors, the back of his chair and the little bedside shelves. It looked as though she were checking for dust or cleanliness, but in fact she was simply making sure that he hadn't hidden any cameras.

"Take your clothes off." she demanded, her Italian accent soft and staccato as she continued to survey his room.

Nervously, Howard did as he was told, removing, folding and stacking each item of clothing in turn, leaving them in a neat pile on the suitcase shelf. When he was finished he stood at the foot of the bed, naked with his hands over his penis.

Alessia finished stalking around his room, dropped her little black handbag onto his bed, and stood intimately close to him, then she took hold of his wrists and brought them up to either side of his neck. The effect was to bring his elbows up, and his fingers naturally interlocked behind his head for comfort. Next, Alessia unclasped her handbag and brought out a rubber ball gag. As she held the black ball close to his face he could see that the surface was dotted with teeth marks.

Howard protested, "I don't think that...."

"If you make too much noise I will have to stop... and I don't want to stop until I'm done... so be a nice boy and open your mouth."

Howard did as he was told, allowing Alessia to pop the rubbery ball into his fish-like mouth and tie the gag in place. The ball lodged between his teeth and forced his jaw open wide.

Finally, Alessia let a hand trail down Howard's chest and over his large belly to his exposed cock. His body stiffened and his cock swelled to an erection in the time it took her hand to make its journey, and she pawed gently at his stiff little cock with her fingers. She liked the thought of groping an unprotected man; of molesting him without permission.

Alessia took two steps back and looked keenly at Howard's crotch. His cock was small and fat, perhaps only 4 inches long but easily 7 inches in circumference - like that of a slender can of gin and tonic. It jutted rudely forward below his belly, his bulbous bell-end was still sheathed by his dark brown foreskin. Between his legs his balls were tightly gathered in a black-haired ball of a scrotum that sat snugly below his shaft.

"Get yourself ready" she said.

Howard spread his legs wide, bent his knees outward slightly, and tensed his body further. He watched her intently.

Alessia pulled her little black dress up around her waist, exposing her stocking tops and black lace knickers, took her weight on her left leg, and swung her right leg back and forth as though limbering up. She inched backwards a little until the swing of her leg brought her booted foot between Howard's knees, then she took a step backwards onto her right foot and immediately came forward, stepping once with her left leg and ferociously hurling her right foot up and into Howard's balls.

As the toe of her shoe crashed into Howard's poor, exposed scrotum, the momentum of her foot lifted him slightly. The pain, at first, was like that of a very hard slap; sharp and hot, but before Howard had even returned from his tip-toed recoil, a sickening, excruciating knot of pain began to form in his scrotum. He groaned loudly through the ball gag, and doubled over slightly. Suddenly, everything he felt was centred in his balls, but his thoughts remained firmly planted in his head, distancing themselves from his poor sacrificial testicles. The thrill of having been kicked hard in the balls by a beautiful, young woman of half his age was better than he had ever imagined. It excited him beyond all comprehension that he had taken such a horrible pain for her trivial amusement, and from a lady who could take him or leave him. The feeling of being pathetic before her excited him terribly, and he desperately wanted to reach down and wank his little stick as she punished his balls some more.

Alessia watched his stiff cock ricochet up and down, then she regarded his face; his skin even redder, his eyes bulging like a frog's. His expression was that of a man in pain and ecstacy of equal measure.

She stood before him and gave him a moment to absorb what she had just done to him. The delight of dealing such pain to his poor, innocent testicles turned her on immensely, as did the knowledge that she had just fucked with his head as much as his balls.

She let him churn for a while.

Eventually, after at least a minute, Howard focussed on her again. Her firm legs were clad in stockings that held themselves up with thick dark bands half way up her thighs. With her hands still holding her cocktail dress around her waist, her lacey black knickers were on display for him, covering her pussy but not disguising its camel-toe shape. She stood and let him admire her for a moment. She wanted to masturbate as desperately as he did, but anything as intimate as that should not be given on a first date. If he came back to her next year, she would let him see her cum.

Suddenly she moved as though she was going to kick him again. He recoiled and stiffened, but she did not follow through, just giggled playfully as she continuously follied him. Only after three or four teasing movements did she unleash another brutal kick to his balls. He groaned immediately and doubled-over; both the slap and the knot were far worse now that he had already been a little tenderised.

"Oh god!" he attempted to gasp, but the ball in his mouth stifled his voice. He bent low and grabbed his poor balls, held and rubbed them tenderly, then straightened again for more punishment, replacing his hands behind his neck. His cock remained rigid.

Alessia prowled up and down before him, swinging her hips and making deliberately accentuated steps. She toyed with him two more times, then lunged in for a third kick. The bridge of her foot connected with his fat ball sack, and she felt the squidge of his testicles.

Howard groaned loudly and fell to his hands and knees, then he brought one hand to his scrotum. A dribble of spit escaped the gag, and formed a little pool on the worn carpet. Alessia stood inches from his head, moving her chunky ballbusters into his field of vision.

"Get up," she demanded.

The pain in Howard's testicles was crippling. No matter how erotic it was to have this beautiful young lady beat him up like this, right now the pain was all he could think about.

Alessia waited patiently until, at last, Howard stopped cradling his balls, and returned to rest on both hands.

"Get up now Mr. Marshall, Global Head of IT. Get up now!"

Howard looked at her with wide eyes, and slowly climbed to his feet. He was shaking now, and taking his time to stand. The tight pain in his scrotum had been joined by an intense, nauseous feeling in his stomach. His cock, however, was still magnificently stiff. Eventually he straightened up, and spread his knees.

Alessia smirked, and immediately delivered another brutal kick to his battered balls. His thick little cock slapped hard against the underside of his fat belly and he yelped as he recoiled. Again, she felt his precious little globes squash into his pelvis. He swayed but remained standing, despite the fact that the new pain seemed to double what was already there.

Alessia stood before him.

"Again?" she asked, sweetly.

"Oh Alessia!" Howard gargled into the ball, "beautiful, sweet Alessia..."

He parted his knees and, knowing that she couldn't understand his words, simply nodded.

Alessia wanted so desperately to slip a hand into her panties and masturbate as poor Howard stood naked and abused before her. She struggled to hold dominion over her pussy, which screamed for sexual gratification. Even that little, fat cock on that ugly, fat man had begun to seem appealing.

She took a step back, then lunged at Howard's balls once more, slamming her leather shoe into his stupid, fat scrotum. His testicles compressed under her onslaught and he screamed into the gag, fell to his knees again, and untangled his fingers so that he could land with his hands flat on the floor.

"Again?" she challenged.

Howard wanted desperately to suffer more at Alessia's feet, but the pain in his groin, scrotum, cock and belly had grown so severe that he felt he could not take any more punishment, and despite his unappeased sexual urge, he shook his head slowly.

She stood before him and placed her right foot on the floor beneath his nose.

"Again?" she asked again, so firmly that it was more like an order.

Howard looked up at her face. By now he knew that he could no longer amuse her by offering her his balls for her to beat. He turned his face back to the floor and shook his head again.

Alessia attempted to scoff at him, but she was sure that the delight that blazed within her must have been clear to hear. She let her dress slip back over her hips, then lifted a leg and placed her foot on the small of Mr Marshall's back. It was times like this that she wished there was someone else in the room to take a photograph.

"You must not wank your little penis tonight, it could prevent you from being able to get an erection in the future," she said, matter-of-factly. To the best of her knowledge there was no truth in this statement, but it amused her to think that he would not allow himself any release tonight. "Now, kneel up."

Howard lifted himself into a kneeling position, and once again gabbed his poor balls and caressed them tenderly. He took care not to provide any stimulation to his little cock, which, even now, stood loyally to attention. Alessia was delighted to see that his cock was still eager to betray him - any other penis would normally be soft and shrivelled by now, attempting to hide within his pelvis. She stood before him, slipped the strap of the gag from his head, and put her finger and thumb into his mouth to retrieve the salivery ball, tugging it from the grip of his locked teeth. She gave it a perfunctory wipe on the bed sheets and slipped it into her handbag while Howard used one hand to rotate his jaw.

"Tell no one of this," she said as she slipped out of the door.

She hesitated in the corridor outside his room. She so desperately wanted to turn right to her own room where she could masturbate, but she knew that if she brought herself to orgasm, all sexual tension would be lost, her demons would crawl upon her, and she would start to feel guilty about her sadism. Then she would start to regret being cruel to Howard, willing as he was, and begin to doubt her right to dominate. She knew that she would become like every other woman at the conference - embarrassingly subservient to the misogynistic half-wits who ruled this field of work, and who stood between them and career progression. She was in too-good a mood for that.

Happily, she turned left, and skipped back to the bar.

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CALLUM

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Alessia arrived back at the bar just as it was emptying out into the restaurant. She scanned the room for her colleagues - the ones that she liked - but they were lost in the sea of drab grey suits, so she dove into the river of people as it passed through the archways into the restaurant, then waded back out when she reached the other side. She came to rest by the huge square seating plan, found her name, noted her table, and gambolled around the huge white-clothed tables to the far side of the room. She knew that her overtly carefree manner attracted attention.

Her table was beside the huge glass windows that looked out over the rooftops of Edinburgh, and onward to the magnificent sandstone castle that dominated the skyline. Alessia had lived in the UK for eight years now, and wondered how this gem of a place had escaped her. Probably, she thought, because she lived in London and most Londoners seemed to never want to escape the M25. Had she become so native already?

She drank free wine while her fellow diners congregated, and was delighted to find that, seated to her left, was Callum MacFarline. She remembered how she had played with him last year, when this conference was held in Barcelona, and now found herself tightly squeezing her thighs together below the table. In order to appear nonchalant, she chatted to the boring man on her right as much as she did to Callum, but, in truth, it was difficult to resist the force that pulled her towards her former conquest; sweet, handsome Callum.

When it seemed that everyone else on their table was engaged in deep conversation, Alessia leaned close to Callum's ear.

"How are your balls?" she whispered.

Callum sighed softly, and moved his lips to her ear.

"They need to be punished," he whispered back.

Alessia let her leg rub alongside Callum's, and they endured the rest of the meal until the first moment that it wasn't impolite to make their excuses.

"Go to your room," Alessia whispered, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

She watched him go. He was a tall boy, perhaps three or four years younger than her, and he still had that youthful loll about his walk. His blond mop of hair was shoulder length - a little unconventional in the present company, making him look like a Californian surfer in a stiff suit. She imagined taking him back to Zambrone in the rural south of Italy where she had grown up, and watching him surf the breakers that occasionally crashed in from the Mediterranean. Something about his rebellious look made her think that they might have more in common than kink. She admired his backside, and recalled that he had a magnificently long cock and pendulous, shaved balls that made her think of plums in a coin pouch.