There is nothing quite like kicking a man's balls to help release some feminine rage. This willing victim made the mistake of showing up on a day when I was in a particular mood—and happened to be wearing my Doc Martens. I take my frustrations out on his balls, kicking, punching, slapping, and trampling them with my big, heavy boots. When I'm satisfied that I've gotten all my aggression out, I leave him whimpering on the floor, right where he belongs.

There is nothing quite like kicking a man's balls to help release some feminine rage. This willing victim made the mistake of showing up on a day when I was in a particular mood—and happened to be wearing my Doc Martens. I take my frustrations out on his balls, kicking, punching, slapping, and trampling them with my big, heavy boots. When I'm satisfied that I've gotten all my aggression out, I leave him whimpering on the floor, right where he belongs.