A evening to remember

I was married at a very young age. I was 18 when we meet at Community College. I’m a tall woman, 5’10” and weighed about 150 then, about 15 pounds lighter than I weight now. I wasn’t nearly as strong; I didn’t weightlift back then. The first time I tried a deadlift, I could do only 80 pounds, a third of what I can do today.

My husband is a generally decent man, but he had this really queer turn on. He liked forceful strip me of my clothes before sex, and then he’d force himself on me. He wanted me to resist, but he never let me win. I indulged him, and for months I never expressed this, but I absolutely hated that he could just strip me and force himself on me.

I remember the first time he did it. It was after we were married. We were trading kinky favors, I had this certain thing I wanted him to do for me, which he did, it wasn’t degrading. Then he asked me to allow this.

Well, I didn’t think I could say no after he performed for me, and I honestly thought I could keep myself from being subdued by him. But I quickly learned a man’s strength was so much greater than mine. I wanted to cry as he stripped and forced himself on me. He’d always strip and had this massive hard on as he was stripping me. He was so strong he would bruise me by forcing me.

This happened several times after he asked my consent the first time. I did finally tell him I didn’t like it or didn’t want to be forced. He stopped for a bit and apologized even. But then I wore the wrong thing, dressed to sexy and the mood hit him, and he went back to forcing me.

I hurt and I felt humiliated. I sometimes cried about it when alone in bed. I even had nightmares about being forced. One morning after waking up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, I decided I had to do something about it.

I remembered the College had a course in self-defense. It started in the fall, and I decided I would take that course to try to get life and my confidence back.

It was early summer, and I decided I needed to get stronger and fitter also. I had never been athletic in my life, had never run, but I started running 3 times per week or so. I went to a track and when I first started, I couldn’t even run once around the track without walking, but I soon got to where I could run 3 miles in 24 minutes.

I also started weightlifting, and when I started I could do only 60 pounds max on the bench machine. By the time the fall started, I could do 120 pounds max, fully doubling my max in about 3 months.

I started the class, and I was excited. It sounded like it would be really good. We practiced avoidance, learned some techniques, practiced doing a little bit of striking, ground fighting, and learned to go after vital targets. The one that stuck out the most in my mind was the testicles. Mrs. Collins said in an assault as soon as you can, get your hands on those balls and get them!

While causing a lot of giggles, I’m sure I turned red when I first thought of doing this, I figured if I could just get my hands on my husband’s balls the next time he tried his little play rape session, he’d be forced to admit defeat. I didn’t want to actually remove them, just hurt them a bit and humble him like he humbled me.

I had a little bit of confidence and by early October I thought maybe things would go differently the next time he tried his little rape thing.

It was a cold Thursday afternoon in early November, the first after Halloween. Tom, my husband, got me a little bit mad. He said something that irked me, without really thinking I threw my fist down towards his nuts. I stopped short but yelled “Bam.”

Well, for whatever reason that kind of set Tom off. One thing led to another, and the next think I knew, we were at it again, with me just trying to push him off me and hold his arms at bay.

After about 10 seconds I really thought I’d made a mistake, Tom was way too strong for me, and I was just going to get fucked roughly again. I tried to twist his arm behind his back, but he just chuckled and did the same to me. Tom told me he was going to pin me against the wall “With his dick!”

My stomach and face were against pinned hard against the wall, and he had my right arm pinned behind my back. I felt his massive cock in my back, and it was already wet.

Feeling desperate, I did the one thing the course so far had really drilled into my head, I reached for his balls with my left hand. I think this surprised him as he backed off a bit freeing me. I started reaching my hand for his balls again multiple times, but he blocked my arms hard, hurting them, and attempted to control my body and strip me. I fought though with all the extra strength I’d gained in the last several months, with more success than I’d had previously, but he ripped my shirt off, tearing it in the process.

I had started only in my shirt and shorts, and he had stripped nude and had a raging hard on. Now my chest was bare. He kept evading my grabs, punches, and knees to his balls and several times got behind me, fondling my breasts as we fought, pinching my nipples painfully. However he hadn’t been able to just hold me down and just fuck me. As we continued to struggle, he seemed more frustrated, but also angrier and more determined than he had previously. I was not easy as I had been before.

He almost got my pants off. I curled up in a tight ball a couple times in an effort to keep them on. We went on for many minutes. I became really tired. I wanted to cry and felt like giving up but continued to resist.

After a few second lull, he again tried to wrap his arms around me, this time calling me a “Bitch!” I pushed him back and without even thinking about it, I performed a move we had practiced in class, I balled my fist up and brought it down on the bridge of his nose hard like a hammer.

There was a slight crunching sound, like a single, followed by a howl of pain from Tom as he brought his hands up to his nose and held it there. I felt shocked for a moment at the damage I had just done, and we both stopped. I saw a small amount blood begin to trickle between his fingers and down his arm.

“You bitch!” he shouted. He quickly tried to bring his fist down onto my nose in a similar manner a couple of times, but I blocked each, however his heavy fist struck my cheek. He slapped me hard in the side of the head, I felt and heard a cracking sound in my jaw and it felt my like my jaw was knocked off kilter. Pain emanated from it and I fell to the floor.

“See how you like it,” he said, standing right by my feet, legs wide, still fully erect. Well, I didn’t like it, and I decided I needed to hurt him so he could not hurt me.

“You want to quit?” he asked. I remember this vividly.

I was to mad to quit now.

“You’re going to wish I quit!” I threatened.

Moving as fast as I could, I cocked my leg and kicked him hard in his in his right knee with the bottom of my foot. I got him good with my heel, bending it back.

“Oh you fuckin bitch,” he shouted, with a pained expression in his face.

Rather than making him quit though, the latest injury just seemed to make him more determined to get me, and I balled up again as he jump right on me and tried to pry me open, smacking me several times in the side of my face.

After about two minutes he gave up, he couldn’t pry me open, and I got to my knees and we faced each other and kind of circled each other a bit. His nose was still trickled blood and looked a little swollen. I felt a rush of pride looking at his nose and thinking I had done that to him. He seemed a little tired and was favoring his knee. He limped now visibly with his damaged knee. I was now quicker on my feet. I perceived his eyes were on my breasts, which bounced a little as I moved. It was the odd feeling that he still looked at me sexually, even when we were physically fighting. I decided though to use my nudity and sexual assets to my advantage and change my strategy a bit.

My husband is 6’5” and back then he probably weighed 240 pounds, 90 more than me, and very muscular.

I took a risk and pressed my body into his as he grabbed me, putting my arms around the back of his neck as he did the same to me, rubbing my boobs against his bare chest. I then stepped back slightly, creating some space. I suddenly let go of his neck with my right hand, and in a windmill style action moved my open hand down and slapped hard into his balls, making good contact with my open hand and sending them flying.

He winced and grunted, letting go of me and moving back slightly. This was a great feeling and the first time I had made contact with his testicles. But I had kind of let him off the hook. I could have grabbed and squeezed, but I did not.

I thought for a moment perhaps he would quit, hunched over cradling his testicles. I had gone easy on him just striking him the one time. But he did not, he rushed at me with renewed vigor, attempting to get behind me and push me into the wall. He seemed to be getting frustrated. I don’t think he was thinking quite as clearly as he had been earlier.

His hands gripped my breasts, again twisting them painfully, but he had left himself open. I again balled my right fist and struck backwards, sharply smacking his balls. His hands immediately left my breasts. Instinctively this time I tried to grab them. I started to curl my fingers around them and felt them momentarily in my grasp. I started to squeeze them in my fist, but suddenly I felt a sharp smack against my forearm. I turned to smack them again, but he had retreated a step back.

He hunched over slightly. I looked at him and saw something that made me feel absolutely wonderful. For the first time ever, I saw fear and hesitation in his eyes. I saw pain in his face as he clutched his testicles. I thought I may have compressed them a bit before he pulled back.

I remember thinking very briefly it’s a lot harder to grab a guys nuts than they made it seem in our class. Usually by now my instructor would have called the fight.

“You should probably quit,” I advised. His hard on was now gone, his penis flaccid.

He looked confused for a moment. Then suddenly he rushed at me screaming and yelling. It terrified me at first, but Tom was slower now, more hesitant. I had hurt him. He was not the same Tom I had started wrestling 10 minutes earlier. I continued to aim for his balls, throwing knees and punches towards them.

After probably 30 seconds, I felt my knuckles strike them solidly. This seemed to stun him and I really wanted to get ahold of him so I could grab his balls. I knew victory was mine if I could just get them. While he was still from the pain I caused, I maneuvered around the back of him and I got my left arm around his chest. As he was taller than me, I was pulling him downward, bending back towards me and getting him off balance.

I was going to throw him down, as my training fights normally ended on the ground, but I noticed He spread his legs out some so he could maintain his balance. My right knee was in perfect position, so I lifted it up hard between his legs a couple of times, feeling his balls bounce off my knee.

He howled in pain which started to make me wet between the legs. I was now having my way with him. His muscular body wanted to just drop. It took effort to hold him up and I leaned my body into his. I reached my right hand around his side and in front of him. Then I once again brought my hammer fist into his balls as I held his strong but now damaged body captive, which caused him to moan.

I pounded on his balls several more times and I began to hear him whimper like a little child. I was totally defeating him, as I had been defeated and it felt wonderful. My pussy was literally getting wet.

Finally, I triumphantly grabbed ahold of his now loose hanging ball sack. I shouted in triumph. His balls were so large in my hand, it was like holding a couple of small mandarin oranges. I cupped them and enveloped them in my hand. I yanked on them once, pulling them sharply away from his body.

This caused a scream in pain I’ve never heard in my life. My ears rang from the piercing sound he made!

Still holding them, I pondered what to do for a moment. I almost just flattened them out. It would have been so easy just to squish them or just yank them off. I suddenly though felt tears drip onto my left forearm I had over his chest, and he didn’t move at all as I held his balls. I think he was petrified. Suddenly my natural merciful nature took over.

“Do you give?” I asked.

Like a baby he whimpered “Yes,” and I immediately released him.

He immediately slumped to the floor and rolled back and forth for some time. I stood near his head, watching him suspiciously for a while. I wasn’t completely sure he was going to quit, and I was going to finish him if he started at me again. After a couple minutes though I realized he was completely defeated and was helpless at my feet. I felt as proud as I ever had in my young life. I looked in the mirror and my face was bruised, so were my forearms.

I put some make up on and after he was able to stand back up after about a half hour, I took him to the hospital to get his broken nose, torn ligaments, and badly bruised balls looked it. His knee was never quite the same, but I did more than just give him a slight limp for life. I took his balls! I gave them back to him and let him keep them, but they were mine after that. Our relationship was never the same. I sometimes let him lead, but I am the boss.