Gabriella and Marco

 Ballbusting Story "Gabriella and Marco" by “Ste Letto” 09-09-2005

The columns that adorn the front of Isombard House are noted for their delicate scrollwork. In the morning light, the magnificent house, and its magnificent grounds shone. Gardeners buzzed here and there, busy with clippers, and trowels and spades. Birds flew merrily from treetop to forest grove. The world of hustle and bustle seemed a faint rumour, an untenable myth.

The blissful morning quiet was disturbed by the sounds of two pairs of high heeled sandals crunching over gravel. Melissa Carpenter and her friend Gabriella Iglesias chatted contentedly as they walked across the driveway to Gabriella’s sports car. Melissa did not see the butterfly that landed whisper soft on the ground before her moving feet. She did not note how the delicate gossamer creature waved its brown and yellow wings, sunning itself.

The foot that crushed the poor insect, grinding it between fragments of gravel, passed on its way in blissful ignorance. That her crushing sole wobbled a little, ripping the poor creature apart at its moment of demise, meant nothing to her.

The girls stopped, standing by the driver’s side door. With a smile, and some light thumb pressure on the combined alarm and door activator, Gabriella unlocked the car’s doors. She smiled at her friend, and handed her the key. Melissa’s slender fingers found the handle and lifted it, hearing the door unfasten with an almost pneumatic sound. She loved the sleek blue Ferrari and intended to buy it, if this test drive went well.

The beautiful, rich, independent 40 year old looked stunning in a simple, tailored, summer dress, cut to show off her slender boyish figure and her long, dancer’s legs. Her feet were prettily displayed in strappy, high heeled, diamond decorated sandals. Her nails were painted baby pink.

Gabriella, heiress to the Iglesias’ shoe empire looked similarly stunning in a black summer party dress, which clung to her ample bosom and backside. This too was cut high on the hem to show off her shapely, strong, athletic thighs and calves. She also wore strappy sandals. Both girls had sunglasses on their heads.

After the two girls fastened their seatbelts, Gabriella turned to her friend. “Just press your foot on the brake pedal, firmly, and push the ignition button, and she’ll start.” Melissa smiled nervously, reached down and slipped off her sandals. She tossed them onto the back seat, pushed splendidly bare foot down on the brake pedal, and pushed the ignition. The car roared into life. Melissa’s dancer’s feet worked between brake, clutch and gas. The car moved away from the house. As it did, Gabriella smiled broadly.

She knew something Melissa currently did not. She knew that her lover, Marco, was also in the car, and that he was far from comfortable.

One month previously, Isombard House blazed with light as a magnificent function took place. Rich and famous friends of Gabriella’s filled every room, even spilling out onto the formal lawns. The ballroom was a sea of sharply tailored gents and elegant, sophisticated ladies. Marco moved from room to room, admiring the feet of the women. He loved to see rich, beautiful, pampered ladies, and their rich, beautiful, pampered feet. He saw sandals of all styles and makes, fashioned by hand by men known for their exclusive designs. The feet inside these shoes, were buffed, painted and polished. There was something about the feet of rich women. Almost as if they were, themselves, arrogant and superior.

Marco stopped in a marble hallway, heart fluttering. Gabriella’s friend Melissa Stockbridge was sitting on a marble bench, one shoe off, rubbing her left foot and wincing. Marco approached, feeling more like a servant than a host. “May I help you?” he asked. Melissa looked up, smiling, “If you could do something to ease my poor feet that would be lovely.” Marco smiled.

He dropped to one knee, took hold of Melissa’s heel, rested her foot on his knee, and began to massage it. Melissa’s look of mild surprise soon transformed into a look of wanton pleasure. She groaned. Marco continued his ministrations. His cock was an iron bar in his pants. Of all Gabriella’s friends he thought Melissa the most attractive. She had a fairy like, ethereal quality, like silk made human. She had the most amazing feet and toes he had ever seen. To be able to touch them, hold them and caress them was overwhelming. Melissa sat with her eyes closed as his skilful fingers worked at soothing her feet. Each soft foot received loving attention. As Marco finished each foot, Melissa playfully raised it, pressed the big toe to his lips and made a kissing sound. Unable to resist, Marco kissed the pad of each of Melissa’s big toes, making her smile.

After everyone had gone home, Marco made the mistake of telling Gabriella how exquisite Melissa’s feet were. He went on at length about how attractive she was with her slender body, her pianist’s hands and delicate arms. He told her how he fantasize about girls with that kind of perfect face, small bottom, long legs and long feet and toes. He spoke with fierce passion about wanting to lie at those feet, even die at those feet. He described how he would feel if he were Melissa’s insole in her strappy sandals, how he would delight in his helpless, unknown captivity at her angel’s feet.

Gabriella, barefoot, but still in her party dress, kept her annoyance hidden. She asked Marco if he wanted a footjob. He said yes. She led him to a bedroom, made him strip naked, tied him up and blindfolded him.

Marco lay naked and aroused, awaiting his footjob. Gabriella stood between his legs and extended her right foot toward his rampant erection. She stroked his purple cock with her toes, making Marco squirm. She settled her toes on his balls, and squeezed, making him hurt, just a little. Marco moaned as Gabriella smiled. She moved her weight forward, crushing his balls into the mattress. Marco moaned louder. Gabriella drew her foot back and upward, hovered it a moment, then stamped on his balls. Marco yowled. “What’s the matter darling,” she asked, twisting and turning her foot on his ballsacs. “Does it hurt,” she asked mockingly, “Oooh poor baby.” She bounced on his trapped nads, grinning like a little girl on a trampoline. That thought made her laugh. “TRAMPLE-INE” she thought. “He’s my TRAMPLE-INE” She laughed as she bounced, torturing his trapped bollocks under her bare feet. Marco continually howled. “Oh quit complaining,” she told him, “just be glad this isn’t on the marble floor.” Marco went cold. He couldn’t imagine how much that would hurt. As if reading his mind, Gabriella said “Just think, I could crush your cock and balls to a pulp if I stepped on them on a hard floor. I’d do it barefoot, or in stockings, so I could feel the warm wet remains on my skin. Hmmm, what a lovely idea.”

She stepped off his balls and sat on the bed between Marco’s legs. She reached out her hands and took hold of one ball in the fingers of each hand, rolling the sacs with her thumbs. “Do you remember the hand strengtheners I used to carry everywhere?” she said, as she applied steadily mounting pressure to his sacs, “you said they wouldn’t make any difference, but I used them for hours every day.” She squeezed harder and harder, making Marco twist, writhe and moan, making his balls turn an angry purple as she bruised the delicate flesh. “I think they did work. I can open jars now that I couldn’t begin to budge before. I think my fingers, my wrists, my forearms and my biceps all got a bit stronger.” She squeezed almost hard enough to pop his bulging jewels, “What do you think dear?” Marco thrashed as much as he could, but Gabriella was remorseless and the grip of her hands was inescapable. “How does it feel, being tortured by my female fingers. The fingers that have made you cum dozens of times, that you have kissed, with pretty painted nails and gold rings on, are making you cry. Is that embarrassing?” Marco screamed. Gabriella laughed. “I take that as a yes!” she announced.

“For the next month or so you’ll be ballbusted regularly. I’m going to get all the female members of staff to help. You’ll be tied to a bed in a small box room, with a timer to control the light. When the light is on you’ll be having your balls abused. One hour sessions should be about right. We’ll begin at 6.00 in the morning, then 8.00, then 10.00 and so on until 10 at night. The last girl of the day will put a clamp on your balls to keep permanent pressure on. Hopefully they won’t be overzealous and tighten the clamp so much your balls burst. We’ll have to work out how much pressure balls can take.”

Marco felt sick with fear. “You’ll be fed, in a fashion, and given drinks. You’ll even get one toilet break a day. Can’t have you dying on me before things are ready.” Gabriella laughed as Marco wondered what more she could be planning.

His torment began the next day. At 6.00 sharp Agnetta, from Holland, woke him by squeezing his balls tightly in her right hand, crushing the orbs against one another, before tugging them, as if trying to rip them from his body. “Good morning,” said the tall, athletic blonde, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Marco could only yowl in pain as a wave of nausea and fire ran through him. He’d always fancied Agnetta, especially because of her gorgeous bum, legs and feet. She would wear the same blue, woollen socks day after day in her soft black leather lace ups. As she continued his ball abuse, pressing her thumbs hard in and down, she chuckled, “Mistress asked me to give you a drink.” Marco was delighted.

Agnetta stopped the ball abuse, unlaced her shoes, and slipped them off. She tilted the left one until her foot sweat pooled in the heel, scummy with bits of fluff and something slimy that had come off the inside of the shoe. She gleefully pinched Marco’s nose and poured the foul drink down his throat. He coughed and swallowed. Agnetta laughed, before repeating the action with her hot right shoe. She smiled to see the tatty, ripped, overused insole inside as she tipped up her shoe. Marco swallowed every disgusting drop.

Agnetta was not finished. She removed her wet socks, and rang them out over Marco’s mouth, threatening to rip off his balls if he didn’t keep his mouth open. He kept his mouth open, and had to fight not to throw up when the smell and taste hit him. Drops of her footsweat pattered onto his face, onto his lips and tongue, like rain.

Agnetta giggled. “I will squeeze your balls while you lick my soles clean to thank me for giving you a drink, yes?” Marco managed a croaky “Yes.” Agnetta laughed. “You are nice man!” she told him. He put out his tongue and lapped at the dominant girl’s big bare feet, tasting sweat, salt and strange undertastes. All the time, his mind was alight with burning pain from his groin.

That hour of torment seemed so much longer. The hour following seemed longer still, as he lay in solitary darkness. The sound of Agnetta clicking the door shut behind her left Marco feeling sad, hollow and afraid.

His 8.00am visitor was Maria. Dark haired, pale skinned Maria wore black leather granny boots without socks. She sat on the bed, crossed her legs, took hold of his balls in her left hand and began rhythmically punching them with her right. The pain was immediate, vast and terrible. For half an hour she relentlessly battered his balls, not stopping until they swelled to near double size.

As Marco lay in a daze she slipped off her right boot, revealing a slick, sweaty, grimy bare foot. Stuck to her sole was a piece of boiled ham. She wrinkled up her nose at the smell of her own foot as she peeled the meat from her wrinkled sole. She told Marco if he didn’t eat she would make his balls hurt far, far, more. Marco opened his mouth. Maria popped the meat inside, saying “Chew thoroughly, get all the flavour. I’ve been marinating that since 6.00am this morning.” Marco could taste her foot on the meat in his mouth.

Somehow he managed to chew and swallow. Next came another drink. Again he was made to swallow the pooled sweat from a girl’s shoes. He realised he would be living on footsweat for a while.

Throughout the day girls came, abused, made him drink and went. His 12.00 noon girl was Britney Lands. Perky, bubbly, blonde, tennis crazy Britney came to him wearing her tennis gear. She wore a simple white minidress, white socks and training shoes. She laughed as she bounced down on the bed. Tutting softly she mocked Marco, “Who’s been a naughty boy then?” she asked, chuckling. “Oh dear, oh dear.” She lifted his limp penis out of the way and smacked his balls firmly with her palm. Marco yelped. For a man who had fantasised about this very girl, in these very clothes, touching his penis and giving him pleasure, the sensation of her holding his cock with thumb and forefinger while smacking and hurting his balls, was too much. He began to cry. Britney smiled, “Cool, tears!” she said cruelly. She began smacking his balls repeatedly, marking each smack with one word from her bee stung lips. “Marco’s – been – a – naughty – boy. So – Marco – must – be – punished.” She began. The litany of condemnation went on and on as Britney smack – smack – smacked his balls.

Soon Marco’s whole being was suffused with pain. He burned with pain. He was dimly aware of Britney’s eyes, her nose, her smile, her laugh. He felt her nails digging into his cock as she held it casually out of the way. She smack, smack smacked him.

When the smacking stopped he was unaware. Only when she started squeezing his balls in her strong, racket weilding, right hand, did he realise something had changed. “You’re gonna help me improve my game,” she announced, pulsing her grip on his hyper-sensitive bollocks. “Finger strength and dexterity are essentials for a good game,” she said chattily, working his balls so she squeezed the left one first, then both, then the right, then both, and back to the left again. Marco was speechless, overwhelmed with the massive, sickening, convulsing pain. This pretty young girl’s hand was creating intense sensations that threatened to drive him insane.

“Of course, wrist strength, forearm strength, bicep and shoulder strength are also vital, don’t you know?” With these words she moved on to pulling on his sacs, then twisting and turning them brutally.

When Britney left, Marco slipped into unconsciousness. His dreams were of pretty young girls abusing his now constantly aching balls. He awoke to find his nightmares made flesh. There was Amber who came at 8.000pm, dressed to tease in a schoolgirl uniform. The slender 24 yr old looked every inch the naughty schoolgirl. This was a look that Marco had begged Gabriella to model. She had her blonde hair up in bunches. She wore a starched white blouse and a stripy tie. She chewed gum as she tortured his balls. She wore a pleated grey skirt and white knee high socks. Her shoes were flat, with rounded toes, black, with a single strap.

She woke Marco by taping his cock to his belly, raising his swollen balls on her cool palm, and smacking them with the flat of a wooden ruler. Marco tensed and howled. Amber left. “Did that wake you up sir?” she asked insolently. “Gabriella told me to give you at least 60 of the best sir!” She said mocking him, maintaining a steady, unerring rhythm with her rule. “I think that’s four, I’m not sure, still, you’ll get all that’s coming sir!” Marco lost the ability to cry out anymore. His voice became a hoarse whisper.

He managed a pitiful cry, “Please,” he whispered, “please Amber, don’t.”

Amber frowned. “What did you say sir?” she asked, maintaining the smacking of his ballbags, “I can’t hear you!” She said the last four words slow and deliberately, as if she were talking to someone simple. “Please, let me go,” he begged, “It’s too much!” He continued. “Do it more?” she asked, “Okay sir, I will.” She smacked his balls harder than ever, laughing at the sound in the little room.

Marco had his balls smacked over and over. “I’ve an idea sir,” Amber said. To Marco’s relief she stopped smacking his enlarged orbs. He couldn’t tell what she was doing. Amber slipped off her shiny right shoe, and her knee sock. She tied the sock around the base of his cock, making his balls protrude even more. That done she began smacking them with the sole of her simple shoe. “Wheeee,” she said, laughing. “One, two, three four five, I was told to smack your balls by your wife! Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, sixty times then start again. Why does she hate you so, because you kissed her best friend’s toe. I think it’s so much fun, I’m gonna start again from one.” With that she started the song again, all the time abusing Marco’s ballls by slapping tham hard with the sole of her shoe.

Finally Amber too finished her work. “See ya,” she announced cheerily as she stepped out of the room. Between 9 and 10 Marco was given his toilet break. Two athletic girls, stable girls Jenna and Marie carried him to the toilet. The two girls, in jodhpurs, white blouses and riding boots, nearly had to drag him. When they put the feebly protesting man back in bed, and he was firmly restrained, each girl knelt over him and gave him a firm knee in the groin.

At 10, Jenna returned. She carried a board with a riding boot seemingly glued to it. She slipped the board under Marco’s cock and balls, and positioned it so the heel of the boot rested on his balllsacs. The toe of the boot was firmly glued down. A smiling Jenna climbed up on the bed and slipped her sock clad right foot into her boot. Her toes slid in first. Once the boot was on up to her shapely calf the attractive girl began tapping her heel on Marco’s balls. Tap-tap-tap, came with firm, maddening, soul destroying frequency and firmness.

Fifty minutes passed with Jenna banging her heel on Marco’s balls. Fifty minutes in which he thought his balls would burst. If it meant an end to his torment Marco would gladly have accepted that. His balls did not burst. They suffered. After fifty minutes Jenna removed her foot from the boot. Wordlessly she stepped down from the bed. She returned after a few moments and began to fill the boot with sand from a pail. As the boot filled it applied sickening pressure. “This was my idea sir,” she told him, “Good ehh?” Marco was speechless. When his balls were suitably distended by the boot Jenna put down the pail. Smiling she fitted a cap over the head of the boot just in case it fell over, although this was unlikely as its sides had been reinforced. She left then, after squeezing his bulging balls between finger and thumb.

It took over a month to have Gabriella’s car modified. Throughout that time Marco suffered unbearable ball torture. Some nights clamps would be attached to his balls. A girl would slip the ridged grips under and over each testicle and pump her grip on the handles to build up pressure until his balls were at near bursting point, the point at which Marco was in maximum pain. Other nights the boot would be used. Someone found a way to put his balls beneath the pedals of a controller for a PlayStation racing game. With a panel over his midriff, Marco could watch any of the maids playing Gran Turismo, working the pedals with bare feet, or sock clad feet, or shoe clad feet, or feet in trainers, or boots. The eager movements of the playful girls, concerned only with beating their previous best score, filled him with sickening dread. They often played non-stop, filling his days with ball abuse.

After six weeks, the car was fitted out with a Perspex box, large enough to hold a man, positioned under the dashboard in front of the front seats. Someone lying inside, tied up and gagged, would be immobilised, forced to watch the feet of the driver moving on the pedals. The pleasure would be diminished however, by the linkage between those pedals and clamps that applied pressure to the prisoner’s testicles. Pressure on the gas pedal compressed both delicate orbs to a sickening degree. Pressure on the brake applied pressure to the penis head, and pressure on the clutch applied pressure to both bollocks and the penis head. Someone with a fetish for feet, especially for what they described as an angel’s feet would find the experience traumatic. It was into this box that Marco, after all his horrific torments had been placed. The girls who had tortured Marco were unsuccessful in their heartfelt pleas to keep him in the little room. They had really enjoyed having someone to torment. Gabriella almost wavered in the face of their desires, but she wanted her plan to play out.

Marco lay, cramped and uncomfortable, seeing Melissa’s perfect feet working the pedals. The sight of her feet so close aroused him, but the pain knocked him sick. He tried to scream, but his mouth was sealed. He tried to move but he was securely held. He saw Melissa’s toes splaying as she depressed the clutch, saw her foot extend into a graceful arc. Incredibly, despite all his torments, Marco still found the female foot sexy. In his mind he imagined sucking Melissa’s toes. This was also in spite of the pain in his groin. He saw her leg moving, her ankle working, her foot changing position, as she pressed the gas pedal hard down. He felt lust and pain.

The three of them drove along country lanes. Gabriella spoke to Melissa. “Did you know Marco thinks you have very sexy feet?” she said softly. “No,” Melissa replied. “I’ve never really thought feet could be sexy. I’ve always thought mine were a bit big and bony.” Gabriella chuckled. “Well, he told me he thought your feet were exquisite. He wanted to kiss them, suck them, cum on them and worship them.” Melissa laughed, “Cum on my feet?” she asked. “Oh yes,” Gabriella continued, “He loves a footjob.” Melissa seemed amazed. “I can’t imagine working a man’s cock and balls with my feet.” Gabriella covered her mouth to conceal her grin.

The car rode on. Marco could hear every word thanks to microphones and a speaker near his head. “I’ve modified this car quite a bit,” Gabriella began. “Oh yes?” Melissa replied. “Yes, flick that switch on the panel marked with an “M”. Melissa did so, then gave a little gasp. “Oooohh that’s nice, it’s massaging my bottom.” Gabriella giggled, “Mine too.” They drove on, the vibrations of the devices beneath their bottoms’ getting more pronounced.

Gabriella smiled. The massager was wired into a bio-feedback loop from the box. It read Marco’s physical and mental distress. The more distressed he got, the more the vibration increased. Already she could feel mounting arousal. Melissa gasped. “I think I could cum this way,” she told her friend. “I bet,” Gabriella said, laughing. As the abuse of Marco’s testicles continued, his pain and discomfort magnified, and the intensity of the massaging butt vibrator increased 10 fold. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” Melissa screamed.

As she did, the car sped along long straight country roads. The pressure on Marco’s balls was relentless. The constant, relentless pressure of Melissa’s pretty foot on the car’s gas pedal made Marco’s brain and body spasm and flex in mind destroying agony, with no release. His growing agony propelled both Melissa and Gabriella to ecstasy. As his struggles reached a crescendo, Melissa and Gabriella began cumming and cumming and cumming. As they came, both girls cried out in savage joy.

Melissa pulled the car over as her pleasure subsided. “Oh God that was amazing,” she said at last. “How did you make it do that?” Gabriella smiled slyly. Melissa knew that look of old, a bit ashamed, but also delighted at her own naughtiness. “Come on, I won’t be shocked,” Melissa prompted. “You promise?” Gabriella asked. “I promise,” Melissa said.

Gabriella asked Melissa to step out of the car. Then she took a torch from the glovebox and reached down to unfasten a flap that obscured the prison where Marco lay. Melissa gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. Marco looked haggard. Marco felt sure she would protest, call the police, rescue him or something.

Looking up at her, Marco thought she had never looked lovelier. He thought she would save him, be his hero. The beautiful woman, still in the afterglow of her orgasms peered closer. Her eyes danced with delight and wicked glee. “What’s that on his balls and cock?” she asked. Melissa smiled, “When you work the pedals, they work his cock and balls. Gas, clutch and brake, they all abuse his genitals. The more he hurts, the more the massagers in the front seats work.”

Melissa’s eyes went even wider. “So just by driving the car I give him pain and me pleasure?” Gabriella nodded. Melissa stood, head cocked to one side, thinking. Marco was thinking, “Hey, let me out!” After ten minutes Melissa said, “I love it. Imagine when I’m driving around London, I won’t mind being stuck in traffic, queuing for hours to cross Westminster Bridge, it’ll be great. I’m going to cruise the continent for the next three months. I may extend my holiday to the States as well. I can’t wait.” Both girls giggled. “I take it your having the car then?” Melissa nodded, “Let’s go for a really long drive,” She said smiling.

Marco felt sick with fear as the two women got back in the car. Melissa eagerly started the engine, worked the gas and the clutch, and drove away, the car’s rear wheels spewing up dust. Marco’s cock and balls throbbed and ached sickeningly, and the two women felt their pussies getting warmer and wetter by the second.