Whu Kneads Skool?

 (F/m) Whu Kneads Skool? Part 1 - NEW!

So, after all this time, I've given up trying to find time to do the other story, and instead will concentrate on doing this one, one little chapter at a time. Maybe that will work. This work was inspired by MeetThePressure's "Classroom Rules" over on Worldwide's site. Anywho, hope its the start of something wonderful. Cheers! - n.

Whū Kneads Skool? Part 1

Christian looked up from his report. Mrs. Vain was staring right at him. He looked down again. It said it, in bright red ink “See me after class.” Christian gulped. His report had really been the third paper in a series where he had slowly discussed the destruction of his own balls as part of the paper’s theme. The destruction of his own manhood. He had written three papers for his teacher, each one completely off topic and each one had broached the idea of her taking away his ability to reproduce. The first two she had apparently shrugged off as adolescent foolishness, but now, with this third paper, she had apparently decided he was serious. Christian looked up again. Yep, she was still staring at him. This should be interesting.

Forty-five minutes later the bell rang, and all his classmates had rushed to gather up their things and escape school. But not Christian. He was so nervous he was shivering. Like pulling a lead weight, he slowly put his books and papers into this backpack and made ready to leave. Then he saw Mrs. Vain get up, lock the door and walk back to her desk. Instead of getting behind it she instead sat down on the edge facing the front and crossed her legs. Her sexy legs, with their sheer silk stockings crossing one over another, and her tight dress show off her ample assets.

“Well, Mr. Dowry? Come sit up at the front. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Christian gulped again and slowly got up and went to the first row of desks. His pants were tight because he had a full erection, and his close-cropped red hair was glistening from his perspiration of anticipation. ‘Oh boy’ thought Christian, ‘This is it!’

Mrs. Vain watched him approach and made eye contact with the teen. Not only was her figure to die for, but her stare was hypnotic. Christian made it around to the desk right in front of her, and slowly sat down.

“So, young man. You seem to have developed a bit of a ballbusting fetish from spending time in my classroom, and you apparently have put me in the roll of a dominatrix. Have you any idea of the trouble I could get in for fulfilling your selfish and self-centered wish?” Her beautiful red lips were pursed. Her long golden locks fell down on both sides of her head, and framed her flawless face. Christian licked his lips and tasted salty moistness.

“Well?” said the teacher impatiently.

Christian stuttered. “I . . .I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I only wanted you to know how deeply I felt about you, your presence and your charisma, Mrs. Vain. You have some kind of power over me, and I want to show my loyalty to you by offering up my balls to your pleasure. To destroy them utterly if that is you desire. It most certainly is mine.”

One golden eyebrow arched itself. “I see. And what am I supposed to get out of this?”

The lad of 16 stuttered again. “I . . . . I don’t know. But I remember hearing your husband say that he loved it when you busted his balls. I heard it when I was hiding behind the bleachers at last year's Earth Day celebration. So, I, uh, figured you might be OK with busting, I mean crushing, mine. Please?” That last word was said with the kind of whiny wheedling timbre that only a self-centered teen could produce.

Mrs. Vain cocked her head. From the center of her cleavage she pulled out a cigarette and a lighter and lit up a fag. She drew in a long breath and exhaled a large plume of sultry smoke. Christian blinked. He never knew she smoked. Interesting.

“OK. Well you seem to know something about me, but let’s see if you’re brave enough to show me everything about you. Undress and let me see your goods.” Christian noticed she wasn’t blinking, but sort of watching him with her eyes half closed. Smoke continued to leak out of her mouth in slow sexy whisps.

Christian stood up. This was it. The moment of his big reveal. He had spent the last nine months in his big brother’s work-out room, toning, building muscle and becoming a Greek god. He unbuttoned his red and blue plaid wool shirt. Then pulled his undershirt over his head. Christian’s creamy white “red-head” skin gleamed in the florescent lighting. His pale pink nipples were hard and erect, and he had virtually no body hair on his muscled chest. Next he shrugged off his shoes and then he unbuttoned his trousers. Outside it was cold and blustery, but inside the school there was that oppressive, heavy warmth that could only come from an industrial strength boiler. The kind that made the desks smell like raw wood and the ceiling tiles smell chalky. Down went the pants, leaving him in white socks and his boxer briefs. His woody was huge, especially for a guy not even 17 yet, and it showed. Like a huge flashlight in his briefs. His balls were huge too, together forming a softball sized lump. Very impressive. Mrs. Vain’s lips made a minute smile.

“I see. The socks are fine, but I still think you should be able to dispense with the underwear. How about we see your cock and balls in all their natural glory. Hmmm?” The blond vixen took another drag on the cigarette.

“OK . . . OK, sure. Of course,” was all he could stammer. Looking down at himself, he slowly put his thumbs under the elastic of his boxer briefs and then with a held breath (to muster courage), Christian pulled down his underwear. His fully hard pecker popped free and waggled in joy at its freedom while his balls dropped low. He had a tiny patch of red hair above his cock which was easily an 8 incher, and his pendulous balls the size of hen’s eggs. Then he stood there, waiting for her next command.

“Mmmm. Very nice. I love to see a healthy set of a man’s what-nots. So, you want me to, what, play with your dick and find a way to destroy your two best friends? That’s what your paper seemed to say.”

“Yes m’amm. I’d love nothing more than for you to nullify me. I so badly want to lose my balls to you.” Christian cupped his nuts and made a small move as if he were presenting them to her. She exhaled and then smiled.

“Well, if that’s the situation then I’ll make you a deal. My job is to educate you and to prepare you for the real world which lies ahead. So, if you can excel at your studies, then for every A you get on a test or paper I will bust your balls for one hour each week you get them. And if you ever get an A+ I will crush one of your testicles. And if you get three A+’s in a month I will also chop off your cock and have it turned into a necklace to hang around my neck for the rest of my life. Like this one.” She reached behind her and opened the top desk drawer. She pulled out a golden-glazed penis on a necklace. “This is from my first husband. I left his testicle earrings at home.” She pulled it over her head and positioned the nine-inch golden penis to nestle between her globular tits (which jiggled tantalizingly).

Christina nodded. It sounded like a fair deal. “OK. I’ll work hard to make you happy and maybe make me a real man. A man who can take brutal treatment from (*gulp) a real woman like you. Thank you misses Vain.” Christian bent over to retrieve his clothing so he could leave.

“Oh, and Mr. Dowry, one last thing.”

Christian looked up. “Yes?” he said.

Mrs. Vain’s pointy high heel shoe rocketed towards his crotch and smashed his two fat balls, crushing them against his own pelvic bone.

Christian’s eyes grew wide, and he dropped to the floor like a pile of bricks, holding his crotch for dear life. The young man’s body twitched and writhed on the tiled floor as his brain tried to process the pain shooting through his stomach.

Amanda Vain smiled again. She stood up, put out her ciggy in a tray on her desk, and walked to the door. “See you tomorrow Mr. Dowry.” Her blood red lips smirked, and she left the building, cock necklace bouncing merrily.

Now . . . Christian wasn’t much of a student. He was on the lazy side, not possessing of a keen intellect and somewhat shy and retiring. Still, the whole idea of doing well so that he could get his ghoolies squashed was an intriguing one. So, naturally, he began to apply himself with some vigor. He would listen carefully to Mrs. Vain’s lectures and then go home and spend hours reading not only the assigned homework but extra credit material as well. Mrs. Vain taught English literature, and so there was a plethora of items he could immerse himself in to make a difference to his grades. However . . . the object of his affection quickly found ways to make him leak precum through the entire class. For instance, on one occasion she read a passage from an old Greek text about capitol punishments which involved testicle torture and she had Christian come up to the front of the class so one of his classmates could “kick him where he lived” as she put it. Christian unhesitatingly complied and marveled at the beautiful young brunette who came up and slammed her leg between his, crushing his junk and making him moan. Dropping to his knees and coughing up the balls that had lodged in his throat was so painfully sweet.

A couple weeks later Amanda started giving Christian special homework. One day she gave Christian a packet of papers. It was a strange calendar which listed not only days but also homework assignments, and once Christian read a few of the assignments, he practically fainted. It was so awesome. Each day listed he had to do self-busting and self-torture and keep a journal detailing both the pleasure and of course, the pain, of doing such. The first date and assignment was to get undressed, get some twine, tie his testicles off with it, and then attached a bucket full of sand and hang it from his ball-bag. He was required to do this for ten minutes, then rest, then ten minutes more, followed by another rest, and then a final twenty minutes for a total of forty minutes of hanging. He was supposed to make his scrotum stretch to a certain length, and when he actually attempted it, he discovered that his nut-sack was rather tight and he had to keep adding sand to make his scrotum stretch. This made a deep ache in his stomach, and as he kept the required journal he noted not only the pain, but the pleasure of imagining Mrs. Vain adding the sand herself, and watching him in agony as she did so. He imagined that she added so much sand it ripped his balls off. SPLAT. On the floor, and no more babies for Christian. This made him hard throughout the process, and as the days rolled on, his entries became almost a eulogistic worship of Amanda and her busting by proxy.

After that was several weeks worth of assignments where he had to punch himself in the balls and film it on his i-phone so that Mrs. Vain could watch. He got naked, sat in a chair, squeezed his man-pouch out and then began punching his own eggs. At first slowly (it’s hard to overcome nature), but as the endorphins ramped up he was able to hit them harder and harder and longer and longer until they began to swell and turn red. The ache it made lasted for three days and he was in pleasurable agony throughout the process. Then another day where he had to tie up his balls and just flick one ball for 20 minutes, and then 20 the other. Somehow flicking was almost more agonizing than just punching – the superficial pain never really went away nor his body acclimate to it.

After a few weeks of these, Mrs. Vain gave Christian a USB drive and told him to watch it. It was a series of videos where Amanda had filmed herself on her smart phone watching his videos and masturbating to them. Dressed in a tight white skirt-suit she would start by just slipping her fingers into herself, slowly, in tune with his busting, and then as he sped up, her fingers would start to plunge rapidly into her almost virginally tight pussy. Her moans were in the same pitch as his pain filled vocalizations and it was like they were singing together, but separated in both space and time. At the end of each video of her, she stuck her cunt-wet fingers into her own mouth and look straight at the camera as she did so. The first time Christian watched one of these he creamed his pants. Twice. Just splooged without even touching himself. The idea that a hot, adult, woman would get off just seeing him racking himself was like a drug. Now, every time he had a class with her, he could swear she was rubbing her clit while she sat behind her desk and stared at him, in the middle of a test or a reading session.

As if this were not enough to keep horny Christian busy, Amanda moved the relationship to a whole knew level. She printed a short document which instructed Christian to take any paper he wrote for her class and cum on each individual page, then let it dry, then hand it in. She wanted him to bust himself while doing it and to film the whole thing and hand the USB in with each paper. She told him to visualize her foot standing on his balls and crushing them like insignificant bugs. She told him to think of her in candy-red high heel shoes and spearing his vulnerable balsies like a shish kebab.

Not two days after this instruction, Mrs. Vain had the class write a paper on Kipling’s “The female of the species is more dangerous than the male” and to analyze its merit. After painstakingly researching the subject and writing up a reasonable response on his PC, he printed it out. He put it on the coffee table, slid down his pants and underwear and kneeled before it, legs spread. Then he started stroking himself and imagining Amanda kicking his livelihood, smashing his balls over and over with her sexy foot until couldn’t take it any more. His penis swelled bigger than he’d ever seen it, and in about six minutes he shot his load all over the page, big sticky globs of white stuff. Huffing and panting in pleasure he clipped the moistened page to a cloth’s line, and then went to bed. In the morning he woke up and saw that his semen had dried and the paper had a blotchy tan hue to it. He turned in the page during class (being careful no one else saw his cum-stained report) and waited.

For three days he waited. Finally, his report was returned to him (along with the USB drive). He rushed home after school and plugged the drive into his computer. He stripped down to his socks and watched as his paramour, in front of the camera, stripped down to her own underwear and take his report in one hand and her golden dildo in the other and pleasure herself to one of Christian’s ballbusting videos, smelling the page once in a while. Just as she was about to cum, she stuffed his report into her pussy and saturated the document with her cunt-juices. She then set the thing to dry just like he had and ended the vid. Christian scrambled to get out the paper which he’d stuffed into his folio and looked at it. Sure, enough it had a big stain in the center, a stain that shone over the stains he made. He brought the paper close to his nose and inhaled deeply. It was a tangy, heady, fishy smell that made his heart race and his loins swell. He whipped out his phone, propped it up in front of himself, and filmed himself smelling the page in one hand, and jacking off with the other. At one point he even licked the page and could have sworn he could taste his teacher. Her very essence. He could swear he tasted his own essence as well. It was an interesting exercise in sexual archeology. That night he made two more self-busting vids, cumming each time, and each time smelling and flicking his tongue on the jizz soaked page. He then went to bed, dreaming of how this seductive relationship would develop from there on in. He fell asleep with his pulsing-hard penis apparently ready to find out.