Home From College

A Ballbusting Story

Today is my last day of school before heading home for Spring Break. It’s Friday morning, and I’m in my dorm room packing a bag for a week at my parents’ house. My train home leaves in an hour and I’m about to rush out when I get a text on my phone.

“Are you coming home this week?” - Miss Ventisette, my high school English teacher, shows up in my messages. Miss Ventisette had been my teacher during Freshman year - and the first month of Sophomore year, before a new hire had taken over. She was in her early 30s, had blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders, and had striking hazel eyes. Prior to her class, I had given most of my attention to the girls I went to class with. Miss Ventisette, however, changed that by Christmas break my Freshman year. She liked to wear flowy dresses that hit just above her knee. Just long enough to not get her in trouble, and just short enough to give a look at her long legs. I had done well in her class, a welcomed surprise for both her and I as she was well aware I that I had been sneaking glances throughout the year.

“Packing my bags now!” - I sent back after waiting a few minutes, so as not to reveal my excitement at seeing her name pop up on my phone. The only reason I was fortunate enough to have her phone number was that I spent my Senior year working as her assistant. It was easy work - I organized papers, made copies for her, and graded simple papers. They were menial tasks, but it allowed me the chance to spend more time with her, this time, however, I was alone with her in her office as opposed to competing for attention in a classroom of my peers. I didn’t need her number to do the job, but I made an excuse for why it may help me better assist her, and for some reason it worked.

“Will you be home before 4? I’d like to see you again so we can catch up.” - She texted moments after I had responded. That period at the end made me feel something in my stomach, like it meant something more than just casual conversation. But if we’re being honest, I was looking for signs in every text she sent, so it could just as easily be her using proper grammar. I spent my entire time in high school thinking about the things I’d like to do with her, but I never had the courage to do any more than one lunch with her after I graduated high school.

“I should be home by three. I can drive over to the school as soon as I’m off the train.” - I sent back immediately. I throw the strap of my bag over my shoulder and head out of my dorm room. The train station is a fifteen minute walk, but I make it in ten and it gives me a chance to sit in the station to think about what I want to say to her when I see her again. I took out my phone to see if she had sent anything back.

“Perfect.” - She replied.





It was in high school that I had come to discover the things that turned me on. It started with an interest in authority, and how hot I had thought it would be to have a woman that was my superior take me on some sort of sexual adventure. A friend’s mom, a coach, a boss, but especially a teacher. First, it was just the control, but it soon veered off into domination which lead to my discovering ballbusting. Once I had discovered ballbusting, it was just about the only thing I had fantasized about, and it was Miss Ventisette that had been the forefront of that fantasy. It would never happen, though, that I was sure of, but it never stopped the fantasies.

The train had just pulled into the station, so I picked up my bag and headed over. I found a seat near the door, so as not to waste any time getting out, and then put my headphones in so I could pass the time faster.

The train pulled in a few minutes past three and I pulled out my phone so I could get a Lyft to the school. My car was parked at home and I would have normally walked the few miles to get it, but I didn’t want to be even a second late to the school.

The Lyft came a little later than I wanted, but the driver made up for it by getting me to the school by driving a little faster than he should have. I stood outside the school for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before heading into the building. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I hadn’t stepped inside my old high school in longer. Still, the clock was ticking along and I couldn’t afford to delay any longer. I grabbed the door and walked in.

I walked through the halls and noticed the school was mostly empty. It was nearly 4PM after all, but usually there were a few teachers stuck grading papers. All I saw on my walk through the halls were two teachers packing their stuff and heading out past me, and a janitor making his rounds down one of the adjacent halls. I finally arrived at her office door, I was nervous, but excited, and I opened the door and stepped in.

And there she was, sitting on top of her desk, legs hanging over the edge. She was wearing her classic, just above the knee dress. This dress was a dark green color and she had tan nylons that went on for miles down her legs and ended beneath her black flats. Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders and she had a small handful between the fingers of her right hand. She had the look of someone that had been sitting around waiting for hours, and maybe she had. I felt as if I was in trouble, like I had skipped class and was just now getting caught.

“Hey Miss Ventisette,” I said with less confidence than I would have liked, “you look nice.”

“I know.” she said, making my heart jump into my throat. Did she just say that? “Come over here.” she continued.

I walked over to her, slow enough that I wouldn’t trip, but fast enough that I didn’t waste any of her time.

“How’ve you been?” I asked as I stopped a few feet in front of her desk.

“I’ve been great.” she replied. “Come closer.”

“Oh, okay,” I choked out, not sure what to make of everything. I came within a foot of her desk and looked up at her, “Is this -” I asked before her right leg cut me off with a devastating kick to my balls. I immediately fell to my knees, not expecting the wonderful situation I had just entered. I looked up at her in disbelief.

“Just how I want you,” she said, looking down at me. “Now get back up.”

I began to do just as she asked, but was hurried along by her pulling me up by the collar. I had just gotten up when she delivered another quick punt to my balls. I started to fall, but she held onto my collar and kicked me twice more before I leaned over her and grabbed onto the desk for support.

“Where is this coming from, Alison?” I stuttered, trying to impress her by calling her by her first name.

“Call me Miss Ventisette.” she whispered seductively into my ear.

“Yes, Miss Ventisette.” I let out before she pushed me back from the desk. I straightened myself before she moved from the desk and stood in front of me.

“Good.” She said as she put her hands on my shoulders and drove her knee up into my balls so hard I felt my feet lift slightly off the floor.

“Ugh” was all I could let out as I fell onto the floor, cradling my aching balls.

She stood over me now, looking down at my pitiful, curled up body. I was nearly in the fetal position now and it felt as though my balls had run for cover somewhere in my stomach. I looked up at her just in time for her to push my face back down with her foot.

“I’ve been so stressed out at work these days,” she said. “and my new assistant just doesn’t listen to me like you did.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I said while gasping for air.

“Me too...” she said as she lifted her foot away and walked over to the bookshelf beside her desk. She picked up a book at random and thumbed through the pages. “The good thing is, I can finally take out my frustrations. I’m glad you’re such a willing participant.”

“Oh wow.” I replied under my breath.

“Now get back up! I’m far from done with you!” she barked as she skipped over to my pathetic body. She grabbed me once again and pulled me to my feet. “Now, face the wall.” she demanded. “My students have been bad and now you must pay for their actions.”

I gulped and turned to face the wall. I tried to take a breath but there wasn’t time as her foot had slammed between my legs from behind. I once again felt my knees shake under me.

“No, no, no” she said to me as I started to fall. She pushed me over and told me to put my hands onto the wall in front of me. I did as instructed and braced for more. “I like when you don’t know when it’s coming.” she told me in a very seductive voice.

I held onto the wall for a moment, waiting for her next round of kicks, but nothing came. I was just about to turn my head to check when her leg shot up into my balls again. I gasped but held strong and remained standing. Seeing this as a challenge, she wasted no time kicking me three times in a row before my legs began to give. Before I fell, she turned me towards her and kneed me twice more before pushing me to the floor. While on the floor, she pointed her foot in front of my face.

“Kiss my feet.” she told me, and I did so. I spent a moment kissing the tops of both of her feet before she grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “And my knees.” she continued. I kissed her knees and then looked up at her and she gave out a quick smile before making me sit up on my knees. “Open your legs.” She told me and then she kicked me as soon as she saw an opening. I fell back to the floor and writhed in pain.

She walked back to her desk, and sat down on the chair at her desk. She let me lie in pain for a moment before she ordered me to come to her at once. I was only able to get on my hands and knees and slowly moved over to her spot by her desk. As I got in front of her, the sound of the Janitor’s large trash barrel sounded down the hall. She quickly looked up toward her window on the door and saw him coming near.

“Quickly, get under the desk.” She urged me. I crawled under her desk and she pushed her chair in so that I was inches from her thighs. She quickly looked down and saw me taking a peak beneath her dress and, with a disapproving look, she slammed her foot down onto my balls and left it there as the janitor approached the door.

“Good evening, Alison.” The janitor said as he greeted her with a smile.

“Hello Dave” she responded and I looked up in time to see her smile at him.

“May I take your trash?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you.” She said as she leaned beside her desk and grabbed her small trash can, applying extra pressure on my balls as she leaned over. It took everything in me not to make a noise as she left the pressure even as she righted herself in her chair.

The janitor emptied her trash can into his barrel and handed the can back to her.





"I hope you won't be hear too late." He said, concerned.





"Don't worry, Dave, I'll be heading out shortly."

“Good to hear. Have a great night!” He said as he walked out.

“You as well!” She said back before turning her attention to me. Her smile turned to a look that could only mean trouble for my sore balls and I tried to move in preparation for what might come next, but she kept her foot firmly on my balls.

“Ough” I let out, finally able to express the pain.

“Aw, you poor thing. Does that hurt your little balls?” She questioned, mockingly.

“Yes, Alison.” I said, before realizing my slip up.

“I thought I told you to call me Miss Ventisette.” She said, her eyes turning fiery and threatening.

“Oh, I’m sor-” was all I could get out before she grabbed me by the ear like I was some disobedient child and pulled me out from beneath her desk. She pulled me up to my feet and grabbed my face to make sure I heard everything she was about to say.

“You’re going to be sorry you did that.” She told me. “I’m going to kick you 10 times and if you fall, I will start over. Is that clear?” She said, and I nodded hopelessly. She pushed me back a couple feet to give her long legs room. “I want you to count each one out.” She commanded and began kicking before I had a chance to prepare.

“Ough” I coughed. She looked at me, her head tilting to the side, awaiting the count. “One” I said quietly.

Her mouth curved into a wicked smile, happy with the power she had over me. She kicked me once more.

“Two.” I expected a moment before the next kick, but she sent them in rapid succession. “Three. Four. Five. Six” Each kick came in harder than the last and each kick seemed to lift me off the ground. “Seven. Eight. Nine.” She continued kicking and I felt as though I might fall, but I stayed up as I was just one kick away.

“This last one is going to hurt a lot,” she explained. “and I want you to close your eyes for it.” I closed my eyes reluctantly. “Now count down from three.”

“Three.” I said, and she kicked me immediately, using the countdown as a way to surprise me once again. The kick sent my balls to my throat and I cautiously coughed, making sure not to let my balls roll out of my mouth. I fell to the ground and once more cradled my aching balls.

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you think you’re doing?” She said down to me.

“Huh?” I let out, nervously.

“You never said ten.” She said, angrily. “Get back up. You’re getting one more.”

I slowly moved onto my knees before getting onto my feet. My balls felt more sore than they had ever felt before. I wasn’t sure I could handle another kick, but I wasn’t about to disappoint Miss Ventisette.

“Now you’re going to say ‘ten’ when I kick you, right?” She checked.

“Yes.”

“What was that?” She said, while slapping me across the face.

“Yes Miss Ventisette.” I said, with my eyes locked on hers.

“Good.” she said as she sent her final, brutal kick into my balls.

“Ten!” I yelped as I fell back to the floor. She smiled down at me before wheeling her chair over. She sat down in front of me and rested her legs on my back as I laid in pain.

“Tell your parents you’re staying at a friend’s house tonight. I want to take you home with me.” She said to me.

I took out my phone, still lying on the floor, and let my parents know I would be spending the night at a friend’s house. Miss Ventisette got up and began packing her things, but stopped and looked over at me.