(So this is an excerpt from a ballbusting fanfiction story I started but never finished on a fanfic site about three or four years ago. This is just a preview of what I hope will follow soon, as I am still piecing the plot together. The original story -- or at least what I managed to create before abandoning it -- was pretty steamy and action-packed, however such a lengthy break has caused me to forget much of the word-for-word material, so much of what follows is new. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this sneak peek at what I'm working on. I hope you get as worked up and horny from reading it as I did from writing it. Enjoy!)

The last thing Steve knew before he blacked out was intense, unbearable pain, and a raging boner that oozed cum like water from a faucet...

But fifteen minutes prior, he was waiting for his partner to relieve him from his post at the east side personnel entrance. It was almost eleven o'clock, and all he wanted was to change out of his all-black, military fatigues, lock his rifle and pistol and ammo up at the armory, get into his car, and take the hour-long drive back to his home -- a townhouse in downtown Poughkeepsie.

He had everything planned out from the moment he left the house earlier that afternoon. First, he would strip down and get into a hot and relaxing shower. Then, he would lube up and slowly jerk his shaft until he blew a huge supply of four days of pent-up cum across the screen of his laptop (which displayed a slideshow of Victoria's Secret Angels all oiled up and wearing lingerie, sultry stares separated from his semen by screen alone), and then he would clean-up and go to sleep.

All of this was only an hour or more away....if only fucking Josh would show up to relieve him on-time.

Steve sighed in horny despair and just kept watching the driveway in front of him, watching for any movements that could mean a possible intruder. He had never wanted much out of life, save for a nice, mundane office job in the city that would pay his recent student debt, and maybe a hot babe for a roommate who would be interested in sharing more than the rent alone.

But then a friend who had worked with him as safety officers for their university a couple of years ago approached him with a job offer: a highly-classified federal government agency had set up a weapons research lab of some kind deep in the Catskills. They needed personnel, especially guards willing to work any shift, and were willing to forgo any standard requirements such as combat or law enforcement experience, at least until the lab was finished and they needed permanent staff, which wouldn't be for six months at least.

Steve was apprehensive at first, not wanting to risk missing out on a nice business job his recently-acquired Bachelor's degree could earn him. But he needed money, and the security gig seemed kind of exciting, being a government job and one that would take him back to his campus police days.

After a few weeks of testing, background checks, interviews, and some quick training, he got the position. That was two months ago, and while it was pretty laidback, it was also, for the most part, uneventful. Until that night...

Little did he know, his friend Josh wouldn't be showing up on-time. Josh wouldn't be showing up at all. In fact, he was unconscious and lying in the parking lot just fifty feet from where he parked his pickup. Not from sickness nor substance, but from the four-inch-heeled latex boot that had smashed into his twig and berries as soon as he checked on the noise that came from behind a vacant guard shack beside the lot.

He had heard a strange sound, like a voice trying desperately to call for help. Muffled groans and then the sound of something thudding. He drew his sidearm and slowly crept towards the source: the guard shack. The young man who occupied it this late on a Wednesday had greeted him there just two minutes earlier. Now, he was seemingly gone.

Josh had just crept around one darkened corner when something stopped him in his tracks: a slender leg that whipped around to greet him. And at the end of this leg, a heeled boot that made contact with his precious sex organs.

Pain that shot up his entire body made him scream, but a feminine hand shut him up before the scream left his throat by clasping across his mouth. He never got a clear look at the assailant, and he never would. The next kick made him shudder from the impact, his bruised nuts responding by unleashing a huge splatter of love milk that drenched the front of his boxers and ran down the sides of both legs. He collapsed, blackening out, aware of only one last thing before the world went black for a while: a hushed, feminine voice saying something along the lines of "I told you not to alert your friend when I placed that gag in your mouth. Now it's night-night time."

The gagged, muffled male voice whimpered with plea before another smack of a heel against testicles rendered him unconscious as well.

Steve waited another ten minutes at the entrance before deciding to make his rounds one last time for the night. Maybe Josh would meet him between the south-side entrance and the big parking lot a couple hundred yards away.

He walked down the steps and towards the driveway in front of him which led to the administrative building on the west side of the property. The other guards working tonight (ten in total) should've arrived by now, though he saw no movement coming from the south side parking lot. He muttered and headed north, towards the admin building.

Suddenly, there was a noise, a hushed voice coming from his left, maybe ten yards away or more. He stopped, assault rifle at the ready, kneeling. There was cover in front of him about ten feet away, the top landing of a set of steps, large and modern flowerboxes to the sides of it. He crept forward and took position at the corner of a flowerbox, heart pounding.

"Who's there? Identify yourselves, this is private property and a restricted area," he announced to the owner of the voice.

"It's ok, Steve, it's just me, Rebecca. My shift ended early. Come out, you're scaring me," the feminine voice replied.

Rebecca? That didn't sound like her, Steve thought. She was one of the lab assistants, a tight-assed Latina who worked the same shift as he on Wednesdays but in one of the lower-level facilities beneath ground level.

He dismissed the fact that this voice was only faintly like that of his co-worker and stood up, slowly walking down the steps and towards the figure now emerging from the darkness of some hedges. He slung the rifle on his shoulder and laughed. "Jesus, Becky, you gave me a frigh--"

His comment was cut off by the now-clearly visible figure, standing mere feet away. It wasn't Rebecca at all. No, this was someone else, and she sure wasn't wearing the white lab coat and black heels of his co-worker. She was average height for a woman, with shoulder-length red hair, pale skin, and a body that made his legs quiver with pleasure from first glance. The women was wearing a tight, black bodysuit that appeared to be made of Kevlar, and was sporting twin Glocks on her slender, killer hips. Her legs ended in a pair of heeled boots that looked more fitting for a dominatrix.

Steve gasped and froze with shock, not knowing what to make of this sexy intruder. He was just about to make a grab for his sidearm when the woman lifted a hand to a zipper on the front of her suit, and began pulling downwards. She didn't stop until the zipper was to her midriff, and the cleavage and rounded sides of her massive, 32DD breasts peeked out at him. She licked her lips and motioned for him to come to her with a forefinger. "No need for bloodshed and guns, baby. I'm your partner tonight."

With that, she leapt to the side into the decorative hedges and out of view. He panicked, not knowing if she would emerge from behind with guns blazing. He was fully aware that he was now sporting a massive, aching boner from the sight of the mystery woman's cleavage. His balls filled with pent-up semen, and he whined with pleasure, despite the seriousness and potential lethality of the situation.

Steve unslung his rifle and crept towards the hedges, fully intent on subduing this intruder one way or another. As he rounded a corner, however, a small hand reached out his grabbed his junk, and an equally-surprising heeled-boot kicked his rifle out of his hands and into the dark. Another slender hand clasped his mouth and pulled him downwards, by balls and head both. His desperate screams of distress went unheard.

Pain shot through his body from his balls as they were slowly compacted by the woman's hand. He looked at her face, just inches from his. The come-hither eyes of the vixen a few minutes before had transformed into the cold, determined eyes of a soldier. She drew her face close to his left ear.

"This will go over so much better if you stop screaming," she said, before licking his earlobe. Her grip slackened and his balls could breathe again. The lick made him forget about the pain momentarily, and he moaned with ecstasy.

She reached down and toyed with his visible shaft before unzipping his pants and reaching inside. He gasped, before she moved a finger towards his lips in a gesture of hush. Slowly, surely, she wrapped her slender fingers around his swollen meat and began to pump up and down.

Waves of pleasure washed over Steve, coupled with disbelief that this was happening. He moaned softly, unaware of anything except the sounds of his cock being jerked, and the ecstatic feeling that now had ahold of him. She urged him to cum, whispered dirty things in his ear, and gave tugs to his nutsack.

"Do you like me stroking your big cock?" She kissed him before he could reply, sliding her tongue into his mouth and engaging his tongue in a slow, passionate tango. Steve whimpered and moaned into her mouth as a torrent of precum leaked down his shaft and onto her slender fingers. He could feel his balls getting ready to deposit their load, his scrotum tightening with desperate aching.

After what seemed like the longest minutes of his life, he finally came, a massive fountain of muck that shot outwards, almost catching his femme fatale assailant in her still-exposed chest. He sighed heavily, balls feeling empty and lighter, turning his face to thank her when suddenly, the steel grip to his balls returned. She shut him up with a vicious punch to the face that made everything go black.

"Sorry babe," she said, chuckling. "Playtime's over. Now get some sleep."

She squeezed his drained nuts until he slipped into unconsciousness, confused, in a world of pain, and in orgasmic bliss. As this sexy infiltrator watched him slip away into sleep, she gave his balls one solid punch more good measure.

Steve would never know exactly what her mission was, as his position was terminated due to his failing to stop her from destroying the classified weapon project in the labs. But he wasn't the only one to lose his job that night, and he certainly wasn't the last to wind up getting bruised and swollen balls from the hands, knees, and feet of this sexy femme fatale. Entire squads of guards would be seen being felled by her strikes throughout the facility on CCTV footage, their male egos hurt almost as bad as their love spuds. A few weeks later, after Steve had received the go ahead to resume sexual activity from a doctor, and he spent his evenings jerking to painful, ecstatic memories of the red-haired babe and her debilitating squeeze on his junk, he wondered exactly how she got through the entire night by herself, without any support from teammates.

Natasha wiped some of the precum off on her third victim's pants leg, got up, and moved closer towards her mission: the lab and the deadly, secretive weapon that waited inside it.