B-647 "Bedroom Bust Up"
Gallery size: 420 Full HD pictures
Ballbusting, 420 pictures 1920x1080 (FullHD), completely CFNM, no blood.
Everyone knows Ian Baldwin, or used to. You’ve worked with him, or perhaps you still do. He’s the one everyone dislikes apart from the boss; the one they warned you about in your first week ("Be careful what you say to Ian").
Today he was feeling very pleased with himself. The boss, "Strait-laced Stringer" had accepted his proposal to merge two departments in a "streamlining" (cost-cutting) exercise. By incorporating the Accounts with the Marketing Department, they should be able to shed some staff, including one of the departmental heads.
"To be fair," Ian said to Stringer, "I think it should be done strictly on the basis that we keep those who have been here the longest."
"Gary, in Accounts, has been here some years, hasn’t he?"
"Yes and I’m afraid Sarah, in Marketing, has only been here six months."
"Oh, well there’s no question then, is there?"
Stringer sighed. "It’s never easy, making a person redundant. I’ll tell Sarah now, and we can decide on the others later."
"All right, Mr. Stringer. Do you need me for anything further?"
"No that’s fine, thanks, and well done."
Sarah. Yes, she was the one who had turned Ian down when he asked her out for a drink. She was the one who told him he had the "charm and sophistication of a reptile" on another occasion, making those around them laugh. He, as Director of Strategy, was effectively second to the boss in the firm, and he resented the staff laughing at him. Still more, he resented the person who made them laugh. Not looking so clever now, was she?
At the same time, she fascinated him. She was very intelligent, witty, and had a fabulous figure. All the men, in fact, were a little in awe of her. There was something about her purposeful strides, and her strict departmental regime, that earned her an unspoken respect. In Ian’s case, this awe and respect crossed the border with fetish. So he gave it a couple of days …
"Hi, Sarah? It’s Ian. I’m sorry about your job, and I did my best for you."
"Oh, that’s sweet of you," replied Sarah, holding the phone to her ear with one hand, and making obscene gestures with the other.
Look, I think I can get you an alternative job. Can you meet me tomorrow night for a drink at the Golden Lion?"
The bar staff didn’t like him either, Sarah could tell as he ordered the drinks. He had proudly told her that it was his "local", and she could imagine how their faces fell when he walked through the door. She enjoyed seeing his reaction when she asked for the most expensive cocktail they did.
"You see," he began, "there’ll be a vacancy soon in Customer Relations – never mind how I know – and I could work it that you get the position."
"That would be lovely!" Sarah was positively girlish, an unusual state for her.
"It would take a lot of diplomacy and persuasion, and I’d be using a lot of my credit in managing it."
"I’d be very grateful."
"So if I did you a favour, would you do one for me?"
"I’d like to if I could."
He lowered his voice. "We’ve known each other for six months, you’re out with me now …"
"Lovely cocktail by the way."
"And I was wondering…"
Sarah said nothing, but took a sip through the straw.
"I was thinking… well, when I walk back with you, we could stop off at my flat on the way. You know…"
Sarah was flustered, another unusual state for her. She fiddled absent-mindedly in her handbag, before slowly smiling, and retrieving her accustomed calm.
"Why not? I’ve been getting lonely recently."
In the bedroom, Ian practically tore his clothes off. Sarah thought a little teasing wouldn’t go amiss, so she slowly unzipped her skirt and then shimmied out of it, turning round and swinging her bottom in his direction. It was almost painful the time it took her to take her shirt off, but wasn’t it worth the wait! She wore a red lace teddy, which betrayed tantalising glimpses of her breasts. She regarded Ian for a moment. He stood two inches shorter than Sarah, and he needed both a haircut and a hair wash. Yuk! Still, she must pretend for just a few seconds longer.
She moved her face towards his, and put her arms round his neck. They kissed. Sarah raised her right thigh and rubbed it against Ian’s manhood. He groaned. She subtly increased the pressure, and felt his cock go erect. She pushed slightly harder and sensed Ian’s sudden alarm; then his relief as she withdrew her thigh – before, that is, slamming her left knee into his balls.
Ian yelped, torn between bafflement and terror. But Sarah came in at him again, this time with her fist as well as her thigh, punching his face like a street brawler as she jammed her silky smooth thigh upwards. It did as much harm as if it were made of iron though.
Ian desperately tried to escape, but she secured his shoulders and hammered away with first her right knee, then her left. She slapped his face. He tried kicking out, but she easily dodged it, and drove a missile of a left knee once again into his balls.
"Oomf," Sarah grunted as her right knee shot at its target. "You cost me my job, you bastard!"
"No, it’s not true! Ah, please stop. I can explain. Agghh!" Ian yelled in pain as Sarah head locked him, and fired her left knee home. She laughed as he gripped the first thing he found for support.
"You were looking forward to grabbing my bottom, weren’t you? I bet you never imagined it would be in these circumstances! It’s a great bum, too, isn’t it? What a pity you’ll never get to feel it the way you wanted to!"
She held his right wrist and propelled her right knee at point-blank range, before locking his arms and resuming the attack with her thigh.
"Still erect? Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this! Oh, another useless kick. Well you know what’s going to happen… " Sure enough it did, by way of her right knee.
"When you go to the gym and dance, it enables you to do things like this," declared Sarah, balancing on her right foot, and shooting her left knee up level with Ian’s chest so that her foot slapped into his balls.
Ian lunged with a punch; Sarah saw it coming, blocked it and leant back, kicking his balls with her right foot this time. Then she announced, "Knee again, I think," and the onslaught continued. Ian’s mouth opened in a silent "O" at the hammer blow of her right knee, which made Sarah laugh.
"Stringer’s strumpet!" Sarah mocked, kicking with her right foot. Then she switched to her left, revelling in her revenge. She laughed as a third futile punch got nowhere (not that it would have done much damage anyway), and kicked sideways on. It was just as devastating.
She hooked his neck downwards with her right arm so that his head rested in her breasts. "You wanted to go there, didn’t you Ian?"
"Oh yes!" he yammered.
"They’re lovely tits, aren’t they?" she demanded, kicking and scoring once again. "They’re not massive, but they’re shapely, with really sensitive nipples. A man only has to look at them for them to spring up, demanding his attention. Not that you’ll ever get that chance," she concluded, before elbowing him in the face while she aimed a slanted kick.
This proved so successful that she fired in a kick at a right-angle to him. He was desperate. It was only her hold on his arm while she kicked yet again that prevented him from sinking to the floor.
"All right, I give in!" Ian shouted. "It was my idea to streamline the departments. Please stop now!"
Sarah ignored him. She hauled his right leg up level with her face, and shot a blistering right kick inwards. If anything she increased the ferocity of her punishment, for she now bombarded him with another right-angle kick. Ian cried out in pain, but his voice was growing hoarse. She grabbed his wrist to stop him from falling, and drove her left foot into his groin.
Then at last she relented. Ian collapsed, panting, on the bed, just managing to beg, "Please, no more. You win."
"All right," Sarah primly consented, like a school teacher allowing the class to go out to play so long as they behaved themselves. But no more lies, ok?"
"It was personal with you, wasn’t it?"
"But at the same time, you fancied me?"
"But how did you know?"
"Well it was a good enough guess anyway. But we have proof." She went to her bag and opened it. "See this? It’s a memory stick and voice recorder. It was in the office when you had your meeting with Stringer."
"You can’t have done that!"
"No, but I was in on it. We knew something was going on. I mean, you’re furtive at the best of times, but this last week or so you’ve been positively shifty."
"Dave, Sandra, Gary, Emma, and me."
"I’ll get them sacked for that."
"I don’t think you will," Sarah emphasised, smiling. You see, Stringer has a narrow moral code, hasn’t he? Hence ‘Strait-laced Stringer’."
"What about it?"
"Well what do you think he’d say about a Director of Strategy, who promised a woman a job at the firm if she went to bed with him?" Sarah stood smiling sweetly, holding the recorder between her thumb and forefinger. "Do you remember in the pub, when I fiddled in my handbag? It was to stop the recording."
Ian sat up on the bed and put his head in his hands. Then, showing all the cunning that he was well known for, he jumped up and snatched the recorder off her. Furious, she punched him full, hard and straight in the face with her right fist. He fell backwards onto the bed, but swiftly rolled over and got back up again. She met him with a right uppercut. As his head shot back, she drove her left fist into his stomach.
"I’ve always wanted to get into a fight with you," she informed him, belting him with a right hook, "but you’re not much of a challenge. The girls at work could all take you on and beat you," she continued, blasting him with a straight left, "and I know some of them want to, now they’re worried about their jobs."
"Take Elaine." – Sarah smashed a second uppercut under his chin – "She says you’d better not bump into her outside work, or she’ll" – her fist landed in his eye – "make you wish you’d never thought of your ‘streamlining’."
A straight left crashed into Ian’s mouth. A left hook had him spinning. A classic, splendid straight right made him fall backwards on the bed, and this time Sarah followed him.
"Aren’t we intimate?" she taunted, perched above him, before punching with her right fist. Her follow-up left had him relinquish the voice recorder, so she grabbed it and put it back in her bag.
"Up you get," she declared, giving him no choice by hauling him off the bed with remarkable strength, and securing him in a head lock from behind. His already battered body and head had sapped the resistance from him.
"Balls again I think," she emphasised, heaving his body so it was almost 90 degrees back from his legs, and aiming a right kick through them. She felt his whole body spasm from the hideous impact, and she followed up with her left knee, releasing his head at the same time.
Releasing him altogether, because he was too dazed to go anywhere, Sarah powered a sideways right kick through the same place; then a straight left. Through it went, before gathering greater speed for the upward, home, stroke. It was obviously such a productive method of attack that she repeated it with her right foot. Ian’s hands flailed about trying to dislodge her foot, which continued to press unremittingly after impact. At last she relinquished the pressure, and gave first her right, then her left knee another go through this most profitable angle of attack.
"Have you ever danced, Ian?" she asked, though he was too stunned to answer, "No, it’s a pity, because it enables you to do things like this." Saying which, she skipped lightly in front of him, balanced on her left leg, and swung her right up into his balls. She followed up with a less ambitious, but equally successful backward hook kick with her right.
Now, teasing wickedly, she swung round and kissed him while driving her left thigh against the vulnerable, suffering balls, before viciously digging her elbow in, briefly but tellingly.
"I bet you’ve dreamt about me taking your cock and balls in my hands, haven’t you?" Sarah whispered in his ear, while gently cupping his balls in her right hand.
"Oh yes!" Ian groaned, both from earlier pain and present arousal.
"Well I do like to give a man a treat. I like to take my time with my hands, to tease him, and encourage him to greater heights (if you know what I mean). Not you though. You get the rough treatment. Like this." Ian shrieked. "And this." He howled, as she forced his body face down while heaving his legs up in a Boston crab, before locking one arm round his legs and squeezing his balls with her free hand.
"Stand up," she commanded, assuming the role of a dominatrix. Ian did as he was told. She squatted on her floor, her face level with his cock. "If you’ve dreamt about me stroking your cock, I bet you’ve also fantasised about me giving you a blowjob, umm?" She looked up at him, and he nodded. "Well that’s the only sort of blow you’ll get from me!" Ian roared in pain as she punched his balls.
Sarah stood up, drew back her right fist, and punched his balls again, her fist ending up beyond his legs, so that her forearm formed a second assault. From the same position she grabbed, turned and twisted. As she did this, Ian’s face seemed to mirror the movements in response, though he was too agonised to utter any sound.
"I’ve often thought a woman’s fists were underrated, you know," she idly commented, hauling his right leg so it was supported by her left shoulder. "I mean, we obsess about our boobs, waists, legs and bums, but to me there’s something very sexy about a woman’s clenched fist, wouldn’t you say?" She punched his balls ferociously; he again opened his mouth in silent response. "No? Ok, let’s go back to the inside of my fist then." Saying which she returned to grabbing and squeezing.
Briefly she went behind him, and kneed him so hard through his legs that he fell on the bed. She followed him there and knelt, womanhandling him so that he was in the same position.
"See? You wanted me to go to bed with you, didn’t you?" Sarah mocked while resuming the agony from her squeezing hands. Ian sobbed and sank down on his back, begging for her to stop. But she ignored him, knelt across him, and ratcheted up the intensity, looking into his eyes sadistically.
He couldn’t last much longer, she could tell. So she decided on a resume of what she had already done to him, but with them both on the bed, for variation. She forced him onto his front and kneed his balls from behind; she wrenched him onto his back, and did the same from the front. With him prone in the same position she revisited the high kick, her other knee level with his chest. She moved that knee further up, securing his head, and applied her right, with renewed vigour, against his balls.
Sitting to his left, she swung her right heel down devastatingly; now from the front came her left heel. Pinning him, she tore into the target with her left knee, staring intensely into his eyes, inches away from hers. Then her right got a turn. Kneeling up, she did the same, before returning to the pin.
Showing no sign of fatigue, Sarah hauled Ian round, so that he was above and facing her, and returned to a high right kick, with that knee against his chest. As he fell forward, she jammed the same knee into his balls, and punched his face at the same time, before elbowing him in the chest with the left. He collapsed, destroyed.
Sarah knelt above him, straddling him, and said sternly, "You’d better think about your resignation letter once you’ve recovered, a little."
Several days later, Ian felt he needed a drink, and went into the Golden Lion.
"Hello stranger!" Rachel, a girl behind the bar greeted him, "we haven’t seen you for a while. Rumour has it that you had a fight with that girl you brought in here, but I think that’s just a cock-and-bull story."
"What did you say that for?" Sally, serving next to her, demanded. "He’s turned round and walked straight out again!"
"I know. Shame isn’t it?" Rachel responded, grinning.