Find part one here: https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/1x7hhsc/eireen_the_ballbusting_queen_castratrix_supreme_17/
Episode II: Eireen arrests an offensive officer
Just a moment later, Eireen stopped; her body doubled over, and her face twisted into a grimace of pain.
"Ah! Damn period cramps!" she groaned. She had to lean against a wall and catch her breath before she could move on.
It was so unfair. She had never had the slightest intention of carrying a child to term and bringing yet another asshole into this world full of assholes.
Yet, month after month, she had to endure this agony, while men literally just fucked around—without physical consequences and completely pain-free. In her opinion, every man over fourteen should get kicked in the balls at least once a month to balance out the fact that they didn't have periods. To Eireen, men deserved blows to the testicles—and the resulting pain—simply because they were men and possessed testicles. It didn't matter to her what any individual man did or didn't do.
Even if all men had suddenly turned their backs on the patriarchy and submitted to female rule, she would have continued to punish their testicles regularly. For her, it was nothing less than retribution for everything men had done to women and the world in the past; a deterrent against ever seeking a dominant role in society again; and a counterweight to what women had to endure because of their menstrual cycles—simply because they were women.
If a man lost his ability to procreate or make love as a result, Eireen viewed it merely as natural selection—nothing worth shedding a single tear over. That was precisely why kicking men in the balls while she was on her period had become a sort of tradition for her. Sure, it didn’t give them a real sense of what menstrual cramps felt like—let alone how much hormones could throw you off balance—but it at least taught them to treat women with a bit more awe and humility.
Eireen decided to look for a restroom where she could take her medication and change her tampon before continuing her hunt for balls.
Further down the street, Eireen passed a construction site where a worker—clad in a high-visibility vest and hard hat—was kneeling on all fours, hammering new paving stones into the ground. He had his legs spread wide for stability, leaving his crotch fully exposed.
Even from several feet away, Eireen could clearly make out a bulge between the man’s legs that hinted at an impressive endowment.
Eireen grinned at the thought of the man’s family jewels dangling warm and snug in his sac, completely oblivious to their impending doom.
Perhaps the man himself was mentally replaying a porn flick he’d recently watched, looked forward to sex with his girlfriend after work, or anticipating the next time he’d get to jerk off. Well, Eireen was about to thoroughly spoil that fun for him; the opportunity was simply too tempting.
The street was bustling with activity, yet everyone was preoccupied with themselves or their phones; Eireen was certain no one would notice her—at least not before the impact.
She quickened her pace, gathered some momentum, and then snapped her right leg forward—swinging it first back, then out. The toe of her boot struck the bulge between the worker’s legs with precision and a distinct thwack!
The man groaned at first, then began to howl; the sudden shock of pain in his testicles had caused him to smash his own hand with the hammer.
He writhed on the ground, clutching his manhood with one hand while extending the other, its fingers jutting out at an odd angle.
"My... my balls! My fingers!" he whimpered pitifully.
A crowd soon gathered around the injured worker, but Eireen didn't slow down. She simply kept walking, as if the scene behind her had nothing to do with her.
A pity I can't kick those balls again, she thought. She felt there was still more damage to be done to the guy's testicles. But at least she had caught one of his nuts really good; with any luck, it had been ruptured.
But to her annoyance, she realized that someone had actually watched her kicking the man's pleasure package—because someone was following and even called out to her.
"Hey! Hey, young lady! What was that all about? You can't just walk by and crush people's nuts!"
Even so, Eireen didn't stop. She merely glanced over her shoulder to see who the voice belonged to. Shit! she thought. It was a cop!
The man in the blue uniform bellowed, "Halt! I said: Halt—in the name of the law!"
He stood his ground, legs planted wide, his weapon drawn and aimed at her. Eireen snorted and stopped, turning toward the officer—finally accepting she wouldn't get away so easily.
“And now, sir?” Eireen asked, raising her hands above her head. “Am I being arrested?”
“We shall see,” he said. “In my view, that was clearly an unprovoked physical assault—unless you can explain the situation. I’m inclined to be lenient and assume you didn’t intend to injure him as severely as you did.”
If only you knew how wrong you are, Eireen thought, but she remained silent.
“But I need to know if there’s a history between the two of you that might cast the matter in a more favorable light! Perhaps I can let you go with just a fine.”
Eireen gave a cynical laugh. “You’d let me get away with a fine for something like this?” she asked. “What kind of police officer are you?”
“The nice kind,” he replied with a confident smile. “It’s just a small favor—a gesture of goodwill, if you will.”
Oh, the corrupt kind who abuses his power, Eireen thought. One less reason to feel guilty—not that it mattered.
"And I suppose you’d like a favor from me in return," she said aloud. A flush suddenly rose in the man’s face, revealing to Eireen that she hadn’t been wrong.
"How about I lower my weapon, you put your hands down, and we discuss this in private?" the policeman suggested. "Somewhere we won't be disturbed?"
Eireen’s gaze automatically drifted to a narrow gap between two blocks of buildings—just wide enough for two people. The policeman noticed this and shook his head.
"I was thinking more along the lines of a nice café or a bar," he said. Eireen crossed her arms and thrust out her chest.
"Here or nowhere!" she insisted.
"All right," the policeman conceded. "But you go first, girl!" Eireen strutted into the dark alley, well aware that the man would be leering at her shapely backside in those tight jeans.
Eireen walked just far enough into the alley to reach a spot where there was still enough light to see, yet far enough from the street to ensure they had no onlookers. She turned around just as the police officer—whose name tag identified him as Wilkins—slid his weapon back into its holster. He didn't bother to engage the safety, Eireen noted.
The officer was smiling now, and Eireen made an effort to appear friendly in return.
Up close, he didn't look bad at all. He was a man in his thirties with dark-blonde hair; well-groomed, though slightly sweaty from having run after her. As for his physique, while he wasn't exactly athletic, it was clear he took care of himself and worked out—as befitted a police officer.
"Well, let’s get straight to the point," he said confidently. "It would be a real shame for a pretty girl like you to rot in a prison cell—just because she was a little impulsive. Prisons are no place for a lady, not even women's prisons. So why don't we put that pretty body of yours to use in a way that benefits us both?"
Eireen’s smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes, which stared coldly from behind her sunglasses.
"That’s what I thought," she said, casually placing her hand on the man’s shoulder and letting it slide down to his chest. "I think I’d go for that—with a handsome gentleman like you!"
Officer Wilkins grinned as if he’d hit the jackpot.
"So, how about a test run—right here, right now?" she continued. "What are you more into—my tight ass or my sweet tits?" As she spoke, she grabbed her breasts and squeezed them together.
"Oh, hard choice," Wilkins replied, groaning in a way he thought sounded hot. "Your ass looks good enough to eat, but those magnificent melons of yours are damn juicy, too! But unfortunately, I’m on duty and don’t have much time."
"How about some quick foreplay right here and now, and the main event when you get off work?" Eireen suggested.
She took the hem of her tank top and lifted it to show him her bare breasts. "You can play with my melons while I polish the barrel of your gun until it goes off!"
"I see we understand each other," said Wilkins, reaching for Eireen’s breasts. Eireen let him knead and caress them while she reached for his belt and fumbled with his pants until they—along with the gear attached to them—slid down to his ankles.
His penis was already fully erect, but Eireen first cupped his testicles in both hands to gauge their size and shape. She was slightly disappointed that they weren't larger, yet they felt healthy and normal—fitting for a man of his build and age.
She was teasing him a little by tickling the sensitive skin of his scrotum when a cramp suddenly seized her lower abdomen. The sharp pain caused her to clench her fingers—and thus squeezing his testicles—tightly for a moment, making Officer Wilkins actually squeak in surprise and pain.
"Oops! I'm sorry!" Eireen exclaimed sincerely. "I didn't mean to be rough!" Not yet, she added to herself. "Let me make it up to you..."
She then grasped the shaft of his penis with both hands and slid them up and down to simulate intercourse.
Wilkins groaned again with pleasure and began kissing and licking her breasts.
Eireen felt the throbbing in his penis, signaling an imminent orgasm. She chose this moment to let go of his cock, pull Officer Wilkins’ head away from her breasts, and treat him with a passionate, French kiss instead.
This gave her the chance to shift her lower body slightly away from his, gaining more freedom of movement.
Eireen knew she had already brought him to the brink of climax and that his ejaculation was unstoppable—yet she could still ensure he wouldn’t enjoy it.
Suddenly, she tore herself away from his face and flashed a malicious grin.
Wilkins looked at her in confusion, but then Eireen’s knee shot upward, crushing his precious testicles between his pelvis and her kneecap.
With a wet, squelching sound, his semen was forced from his cock and splattered onto Eireen’s chest.
Wilkins’s face twisted into a grimace of agony; he howled in pain and tried to clutch his crotch. But his scream of pain was drowned out by Eireen’s scream of rage.
"You pig! You fucking cop pig with your shitty, goddamn cum!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, slamming her knee again and again into his already battered testicles.
Wilkins gasped for air, having had the breath already knocked out of him by that initial scream.
Finally, Eireen let go of him; he slumped to the ground in the fetal position and began to vomit.
Before he could even begin to gather his wits, Eireen had already snatched up his service weapon, handcuffs, baton, and Taser.
She pointed the gun at his head and screamed, "Look at me! Look at this damn mess! I’m going to have to throw this top away!"
Wilkins actually lifted his head; he was unsure whether to stare into the angry woman’s face or down the barrel of his own gun.
Had she really just snapped because he’d splattered her, or was this a reckoning for the sexual abuse? It all seemed to be happening at once, and he was in too much pain to think clearly. Then he heard her next command.
"Strip!"
"What?" he mumbled.
"I said: strip!" Eireen screamed. "If I lose my top, you lose everything! So stop gawking and get naked!"
Wilkins’s heart pounded like that of a hunted wild animal. His mind was flooded with a whirlwind of emotions; despondency, shame, anger, and fear were the most intense among them.
Yet he harbored no doubt that this woman was crazy enough to actually shoot him if he failed to comply with her demands. So he hastened to strip off everything he was wearing, until he lay naked before her in the dirt—as bare as the day he was born.
Eireen genuinely smiled as she looked at the naked man, trembling with fear.
"Get up!" she ordered.
Wilkins moved slowly and unsteadily; his legs were still trembling, and his testicles had swollen into a single, battered lump, above which a tiny, shriveled penis protruded.
Eireen prodded him deeper into the alley with her weapon.
"Keep moving, you naked asshole!" she shouted.
When they reached a spot where an emergency ladder was attached to the wall, she told him to stop and turn around to face her.
"Take these and secure yourself, but keep your hands in the air while you do it!" she commanded, tossing him a pair of handcuffs.
"Please!" he begged. "You can't leave me here! Not like this!"
"Shut your mouth, or I'll leave you for dead!" she retorted.
Realizing that pleading was useless, Wilkins followed her instructions and locked the handcuffs around a ladder rung above his head.
Then, to his great surprise, Eireen took off her leather jacket and, subsequently, her semen-splattered tank top.
The sight of the woman standing there topless left him speechless. Despite everything, she was undeniably hot, and with a sharp pang of longing, he remembered how, just moments ago, he had been allowed to touch and kiss those full breasts.
He harbored a faint hope that the sight might give him an erection—proof that the blows to his testicles hadn't rendered him impotent. Yet he also knew it would be better to remain flaccid so as not to provoke her further. Although he had no control over it, the latter was what happened: his cock remained small and limp.
Wilkins’s train of thought was interrupted when he noticed Eireen aiming her gun at him again.
"Open wide!" she said, lifting her tank top.
Wilkins swallowed hard; he had an inkling of what was coming next. Nevertheless, he obeyed and opened his mouth.
Eireen stuffed the semen-smeared fabric into his mouth, stifling any sound he might have made. It tasted vile—like a woman’s sweat, deodorant, and his own semen.
Eireen took a step back and surveyed her handiwork. She had just transformed a police officer and sex offender—a symbol of male authority and power—into a naked, helpless and pathetic wretch.
Yet she felt she could do even more. Then she smiled again as an idea struck her.
Eireen stepped up to Wilkins, crouched down, and grabbed his testicles firmly. She looked up at him with a devilish grin.
"I bet they’ve lost all function," she said casually. "But I want to be absolutely certain."
Then she raised the weapon.
Wilkins shook his head violently, his eyes wide with panic. Surely she wasn’t going to shoot his balls off? Or was she? But then Eireen tossed the weapon into the air, caught it by the barrel, and repeatedly struck Wilkins’s testicles with the grip—like it was a hammer.
Wilkins screamed in agony and thrashed about, though no sound escaped his mouth.
By the time Eireen was finally satisfied, he was hanging limp and unconscious from the handcuffs.
Eireen put on her leather jacket, zipping it up only far enough to let her breasts spill out in a generous display of cleavage between the teeth of the zipper. She blew Wilkins a parting kiss and turned around—only to discover another man watching her from behind.
"Hey, you pervert! What are you looking at? Can't a couple have some hot fun in peace?" she shouted at the stranger.
The man seemed rooted to the spot as Eireen strode briskly toward him.
He stared at her and poor Officer Wilkins with a look of horror and awe. He was short and slight, wore glasses, and had thinning hair. In his cheap suit, he looked like an insignificant office worker.
"I... I heard screaming... thought maybe someone needed he... help," he stammered, his gaze darting between Eireen’s cleavage, her boots, and Wilkins’ battered crotch.
Eireen immediately noticed that the man was sweating and that a small bulge was visible in his pants.
"That’s very brave of you, little man," Eireen said calmly. "And you obviously enjoyed watching a topless woman getting dressed, didn't you?"
Eireen took another step toward him, reached out, and leaned against the wall, trapping the little man between her bust and the masonry.
Left speechless by the accusation and being closer to an impressive pair of breast than ever before in his life, the man stood silently, so Eireen continued:
"So, what are you going to do now? Are you going to report me, or would you perhaps like the same treatment he got?" She gestured behind her toward Wilkins.
The man trembled and raised his hands defensively. "No, please don't hurt me! I didn't see anything! I won't tell a soul!"
Eireen grinned. "That’s very generous of you, little man—so I’ll be generous too and won't hurt you, provided you’re kind enough to take care of the matter yourself."
The man’s eyes widened as he tried to grasp the meaning of Eireen’s words.
"What... what am I supposed to do?"
"First of all," Eireen said, "you’re far too overdressed. Take off your clothes—everything, including your shoes and underwear—and fold them neatly at my feet. You can keep your glasses on, though."
To her surprise, the man actually did exactly that, even though Eireen hadn't even drawn the gun to force the issue.
After just a few minutes, the man stood stark naked before her, legs spread and hands cupped protectively over his groin. Naked, the man looked even punier—like someone who hardly ever left the house, never exercised, and lived exclusively on muesli and fruit.
"What’s your name, little guy?" Eireen asked. "Louis—Louis Albert!" he squeaked.
"Well, Louis, when I ask a man to undress, naturally I want to see his cock, too," Eireen explained, using the tone of an understanding nanny.
"So, hands away—show me what you’ve got!"
Hesitantly, Albert moved his hands aside, revealing an erect penis about five inches long and two plum-sized testicles in a hairy sac.
"Cute and fuzzy," Eireen remarked. "Now take your cock in your left hand and hold it aside while you give your balls a few good slaps—as punishment for being so brazen as to barge in on a private matter. Oh, and whimper for forgiveness while you do it—simply for being a man!"
"No! Please don't make me hurt my balls!" Albert pleaded.
"Okay, in that case, I'll hurt your balls!" Eireen threatened. "But then there’s no guarantee I’ll leave you anything to have fun with at all!"
"No, please don't! Anything but that! I'll do it, I'll do it! Look!" the words tumbled out of him, trembling.
And then he raised his right hand and gave his testicles a light slap.
"Harder!" Eireen demanded. "If you're going to be so squeamish about it, I’d better do it myself!"
Albert struck his testicles again, and a timid "Ow!" escaped his lips.
"Harder still!" Eireen urged. "And don't forget to apologize."
Albert closed his eyes and put more momentum and force into the next blow. This time, a distinct smack rang out, and his testicles bounced up and down.
"Ow! I'm sorry!"
"What are you sorry for?" Eireen pressed.
"Ow!" Albert replied as the next hard blow landed. "I'm so sorry I'm a man!"
"You should be," Eireen laughed. "Do you know why?"
"Because... ow!... Because men ruin the world and oppress women?" Albert ventured between blows.
"Yes, that too," Eireen admitted. “But more importantly, you‘re such pathetic creatures—with your oh-so-sensitive, fragile little balls, your urge to spray your cum everywhere, and your need to submit to any dominant figure, whether male or female. Just look at yourself, you pathetic wretch!”
Albert whimpered as another self-inflicted blow struck his already reddened testicles.
“I am truly sorry that I’m a pathetic little man!” he cried out dutifully.
"And do you want to know why your balls have to hurt so much when they get hit? Because you deserve it—to make up for the fact that you guys don’t menstruate.”
“Tell me, do your little balls deserve to be punished?”
“Yes! Ow!” Albert screamed. “Yes, what?” Eireen snapped at him.
“Yes, my little balls deserve to be punished!” Albert shouted, striking them again.
“Do all men’s balls deserve to be punished?” Eireen asked.
“Yes! Ow! Yes, all men’s balls deserve to be punished!” Albert confirmed, dealing his testicles an especially hard blow; his protective reflex kicked in, and he sank to his knees, howling and clutching his balls.
“Very good!” Eireen exclaimed. “I think that’s enough for the first lesson in female superiority. You may kiss my boot and leave!”
Gasping for breath, Albert leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on the steel toe of Eireen’s left boot. Then he reached out to pull his clothes toward him. But Eireen planted her boot firmly on the pile of clothes.
“Oh no, my little naked boy! All this is staying right here!”
“Yes, Mistress!” he whimpered. Then he sprang up and ran back toward the main street he had come from.
Eireen watched his pale, white buttocks bobbing up and down as he ran, and smiled with satisfaction.
The little naked fellow was sure to cause quite a stir—exactly the distraction she needed to slip away unnoticed. Then she gathered up Albert’s clothes and left the alley by the far end, as if nothing had happened.