Target Practice: S&M Week
When the ladies arrived the following week for class, they found the door locked, with a little note card saying “Wait for the door to open”. All of them were curious as to the reason for this, but stood around, talking about this and that. They had all been told to bring their sexiest pair of high-heel shoes, and each had a pair dangling from their hands or stuffed in their exercise bags. A big topic of conversation was how Erin was coping with being a eunuch. Angela assured them he was adjusting quite well, and could take synthetic hormones to keep her sexually satisfied. According to her, his dick had never been harder.
After no more than a five minute’s wait, the lock clicked, and they all rushed in. Standing in a full body black leather cat suit was Pat, her hair done up in a bun that sprouted a pony tail. Her eyes were heavily mascarad and her stiletto boots were six inches high if they were an inch. She was dressed to kill. Or at least to maim.
“Welcome girls to my ‘sex class’. Every year I take my students through the looking glass, and into the black and red world of sadism and masochism. Not only do we learn how to defend ourselves from men, but we also learn to control them. Control their bestial nature and take pleasure from their willing and humble submission.”
To one side, and hanging from a rope and pulley system was a hooded male. He was bound, cuffed, gagged and entirely naked. He had a big beefy body and a big beefy set of balls, swinging beneath a thick, erect cock. He was perfectly smooth and tan, with pierced nipples and a Prince Albert. Next to him was a huge box full of objects that were black, leather, plastic or rubber.
“Ladies, say hello to my slave.” All the women giggled. “He’s going to help me demonstrate the constellation of tortures you can visit upon the men in your life.” In her hand was a coiled bull-whip. She unfurled it. “This is a whip. If used properly you can visit all sorts of torments without doing too much permanent damage.” She was standing well in front of her slave and without even looking behind herself, she snapped the whip behind her. It hit just the tip of his dick, causing him to jump. *SNAP she cracked the whip again, and punished just his left nut. *CRACK the whip tagged his right ball. The man sagged in his restraints. Pat hadn’t even batted an eyelash. She was that good.
All the women applauded.
“You see? Nothing to it. Now, I want you all to take turns with my whip and see what you can do. Jane, you first.”
The brunette with curly hair took the strange weapon from Pat and stood in front of the helpless man. His cock and balls each had welts on them, but the testicles still hung low in their sack and his cock was as rigid as when they’d walked in. She really didn’t know how to aim but raised it over her head and snapped it at his body. *CRACK The whip hit his chest and glanced off his right nipple. He groaned into his gag. She tried three more times, moving lower on his body each time, until she managed to snap the left side of his rigid cock. He now had a trail of welts and sore dick.
All the women clapped and shouted encouragement. Cynthia was up next, and she grabbed that whip and started lashing him with abandon.
“Remember girls, with whips, it’s all in the wrist. Snap your wrist at the end of the down-stroke,” said Pat.
Cynthia lashed the man’s tan, muscled body like she was punishing some Roman slave. She tagged both balls, causing his delicate scrotum to blush with irritation and abrasion. The man had startled each time she hit his genitals, since he couldn’t see the hits coming.
Then Anglea was up. She walked around behind him and whipped his hot bubble butt as hard as she could. Then his naked back. *WHOOSH *CRACK
All the women had their turn with him. The little Japanese woman was giggling with embarrassed excitement during the whole of her turn, one hand politely covering her mouth, the other hand administering brutal lashings to his delicate, swinging orbs.
“Ok. Good. Now let’s try riding crops. I have one for each of you. Take your places around him and let’s make his whole body glow with welts. I want to see him cherry red!” Pat wound up her whip and handed out the crops. They were black, made of stiff, hard wood and wrapped in leather.
“Who wants to crack his cock? Ok, Kazumi, you can take ‘pole position’ and Cynthia, you take his pouch. The rest of you find some body part to punish. Angela, you take his feet. The soles of the feet are especially sensitive. Really beat the hell out of them.”
“OK. Ready? GO!”
All the women began to whack this hot twenty something guy all over his body. He was getting it in the balls, the back, the dick, the chest and nipples, the butt, his perineum and even his feet. He was flopping around and making mewling noises which were audible even through his gag.
*CRACK *CRACK *CRACK. Stiff leather and wood against warm, exposed flesh. The whole room was filled with overhand smashes and brutal hits to his privates. Kazumi was thrilled to be smashing his cock. She kept cracking her crop right down on the tool, which would snap downwards and then bob right back up, smacking into his rippling abs. Cynthia was meanwhile punishing his delicate nads, whacking one, then the other, then both. Despite all the punishment, the two glands never retreated back up into him, so she assumed he must have a high pain threshold, or was maybe even enjoying it.
Two women were on either side of him, smacking chest, thighs and arms. The virgin redhead was cracking her crop on his tight ass, making angry red bumps all over, and of course Angela had the soles of his feet. That must really hurt. Whipping the bottoms of the feet was a recognized form of torture.
All the slave could do was writhe in his restraints. His senses were bombarded with signals of pain, and there was no end in sight. For almost ten minutes they whacked away at his whole body, savoring the way the crops sunk into and then bounced off his meaty muscles.
“Alright. That’s good. Let’s give him a few minutes to recover. I want you each to go over to my box of goodies and pick out ONE item, and we’ll take turns using and abusing this sexy sex slave of ours.”
The women handed in their crops and went to the box, while the slave just shuddered and twitched, moaning to himself. There we so many odd and curious items to be found. They all shared and handled the S&M props until they found one they wanted to bring him pain with.
“Line up girls. I think he’s had enough of a rest. Ok Beatrice, you’re first. What do you have?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply. Beatrice looked a lot like Brook Shields, with long, glossy brown hair, and limpid blue eyes. She held up her object. It was made of leather and steel.
“Ah. That’s called a parachute. You attached it above the balls and then attach weights to it. Here, I’ll show you how.” Pat demonstrated how to put it on, brutally squeezing his testes through the tight opening in the center of the parachute.
“Do we have weights?” asked Beatrice.
“Of course!” Pat walked over to the box and hefted out two steel balls, each weighing 10 pounds. She handed one to Beatrice. “We’ll each take a side. Now, everyone watch as we put 20 lbs of weight on his testicles.” The weights were attached, and his whole package sank, almost halfway down his muscular thighs. They went from bright red to deep purple and all the women gawked at them.
“How long can they hang there?” asked one woman.
“Well, that depends on how much discomfort you want him to be in. As long as you don’t put on more weight than they carry, and as long as nothing is being ripped out, you can go for quite a while. I’ve had 20lbs on my husband’s nuts over night. I made him stand up for twelve hours straight. Boy was he sore in the morning.” Everyone smiled.
“And they really don’t cause any damage, although the testicles can get cold and numb after while. Alright, onto you Angela.”
Angela had a circular clamp with wing nuts.
“Ah, this is a modified cock-ring. It clamps around the base of the penis and then you screw it on tight. It has these conical spikes on the inside to dig into the cock shaft without breaking the skin. Go ahead Angela.”
The woman slipped the large ring over his pulsing cock and then slid it down the shaft to the base. Then she began to tighten the three screws.
“Now remember, just like in anything else, you want tighten the screws evenly, so do a few turns on one, then another, etc.”
Angela obeyed, and soon it was brutally clamped against his dick flesh. His dick inflated as more blood got trapped in the organ, and his dickhead swelled to twice its previous side. It was a truly impressive piece of man meat.
“Good. Okay, Cynthia, what do you have? Ah, the ball press. OK. Well first have to take off the parachute and the weights. Ok. There we go, Now, come on over here and everyone gather round. The balls lay between these two acrylic plates, and they fit in these little hollows. Then we start to turn the wing nut screws, again in sequence, until his balls start to flatten out. See how they turn white? Good, keep pressing.”
“How far can you go without bursting them?” asked Cynthia. She had an eager gleam in her eye.
“It’s actually rather difficult to pop them like this because the pressure is so evenly distributed and it gets increasingly difficult to tighten the screws. Still, I suppose if you really tried you could probably make the balls split their seams. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Pat grinned, and they all grinned back.
“Now, this press is special. See all these holes in the plastic? Can anyone guess what they’re for?”
“These?” Kazumi held up a metallic case which she opened. Inside were twenty needles, each about 4 inches long, as thick as a syringe needle, and each gleaming wickedly.
“Precisely. Let’s have some fun with his nuts.” By this point the slave’s body was covered with sweat, angry red welts and he was moaning, but he had signed up for this, right? So why stop now?
“First, you take one needle. Then you take this lighter, and you heat the metal until it glows. Then,” and she paused dramatically with the needle hovering over a hole in the nutpress, “you plunge it straight into the heart of his ball!” She aimed and did just that. The needle pierced his scrotum and then entered his left testicle. There was a sizzling sound as the hot needle cooked the inside of his nut, and they all became not only excited, but sexually aroused. Cynthia even started rubbing her tits in excitement.
“Ok. Each of you take a needle, heat it, and spear his balls with them.” Some of them were so eager that they fumbled with the needles and the lighter, but eventually they each had the supreme joy of feeling needles slide into, and through, plump ball flesh, and there was dead silence each time so they could all hear the sizzling. Naturally this elicited muted screams and grunts from the slave, and boy did he buck his hips! His flattened, pincushined nuts flopped all over the place.
“Alright then, what have we next?” Pat looked at the redhead. She had picked out a big wooden paddle, which needed no explanation. “Ready to give that paddle a run, Diane?”
She replied with a nod and sly, wicked grin. While slave’s nuts were being pressed and impaled, the innocent and shy Diane took her place behind him and began paddling his ass like there was no tomorrow. Naturally the paddle had hole in it to increase the speed at which she could paddle him, and she really laid into it. WHAP WHAP WHAP. His body jolted and jumped with each hit. His butt cheeks looked like two shiny hams – deep red and glazed with sweat. Diane really began to get into it, “YOU’VE BEEN A BAD BOY!!! A BAD, BAD BOY!” she screamed. It was a good thing the dance studio was far away from other buildings.
“Diane,” shouted Pat, “Hit him between the legs, in the perineum!”
The young redhead changed the angle of her attack and swatted the paddle up and between his legs. It smacked straight up and slapped his trapped and punctured ball bag as well as his ‘taint. Oh man, did that hurt. The whole of slave’s groin was in agony, his skin had been flayed, his butt was on fire, and there was an ache in his belly from the nut pain radiating up and out.
WHAM WHAM WHAM. All the women were loving it, loving to watch it, and in love with this hunky guy’s mortal agony. Diane was really huffing now, and on her next hit the paddle, slick with sweat, slid out of her hands and went flying across the room.
“Oops, sorry.” She blushed with embarrassment.
“Not a problem. Now I suggest we take our break and I’ll get slave, here, cleaned up. Drink ‘em if you got ‘em”
Cynthia quickly feigned bladder buildup and went to the bathroom to get some relief. All that testicle torture had made her hot and moist. She dropped her shorts, sat on the toilet seat and actually fisted herself, keeping the vision of slave’s white, flattened testicles, pierced with a dozen needles foremost in her mind. Everyone else stretched, gabbed, and nibbled on trail mix.
Pat, meanwhile, removed the needles, the press, and the cockclamp and let the man drink some water. He was achy and sore, but this was no worse than a usual night in an S&M dungeon, so he was fairly nonplussed about it. And his dick was still hard, so it couldn’t be all that bad.
After ten minutes they reconvened and gather around their teacher and her boy-toy.
“So, there’s a lot that you can do to men that’s ‘safe and sane’. There’s ball busting,“ Pat swiveled and jammed her knee into slave’s testicles, “And there’s testicle torture,“ Pat had a cattle prod in one hand and zapped his silky pouch. Slave let out a muffled scream and tried to close his legs to protect himself. His nutsack expanded and contracted as his balls writhed in pain. Being zapped in the nuts hurt like a motherfuck. Pat watched him writhe, and decided to do it again. She also pressed the tip of the prod to his purple dick and zapped its fat purple head. The Prince Albert rod channeled the voltage perfectly and the entire helmet swelled far beyond its usual size and they all heard a sizzling sound. His dick-meat was frying while it was still attached to him!
“And obviously if you want to keep your man intact you can do simple things. Nipple clamps, lighters, ropes and duct tape, rolled up newspapers to the balls and so forth.” She put down her prod and plucked a candle and a lighter from the box. She lit the candle, let it melt down a bit and then slowly dripped hot wax onto slave’s body. First his chest, then his stomach, then blobs of hot wax on his penis shaft, and then finally held the flame under his balls, not close enough to really burn him but close enough to cause discomfort. His fat, now swollen balls were retracting and then dropping back down like over ripe plums.
“However, we’re going to take this all the way. When a man, such as this one, willing gives you ownership of this genitals, and I have an actual contract, then the master always has the right to mutilate or even destroy the slave’s bits and pieces and then dispose of him. A real slave is your property, not a person.”
All the women murmured in disbelief. It had never occurred to them that men could be property, just as women had been seen as property for most of humanity’s history. They could be “things”, to be used and abused at their whim, and then cast aside like broken dolls.
“So this sniveling servant of mine is going to lose his precious family jewels today. I’m going to destroy his ability to have pleasure, and two of you are going to take away his ability to reproduce.” Pat held up a black bag. “All your names are in this bag. I’m going to pull two of them. I want those who I pull to put on the high heeled shoes I asked you to bring. After I’ve dealt with his dick, the two winners are going to step on his balls with the heels and actually spear his nuts. I want you to completely impale his two glands and then crush them with the toe. Stomp them into putty!”
The women clapped excitedly.
Pat opened the bag. Each woman held their breath in the hopes that they would be the ones picked to spear slave’s balls. Pat swirled her hand around and pulled out the first name. “Diane, put on your heels.” The virginal redhead squealed with glee and ran to her bag. Pat rummaged around for the second name. “Kazumi, you’re second. Go put on your shoes.” The petite but sexy Asian giggled behind her hand again, and then followed Diane’s lead. Diane came back in purple Jimmy Choo’s, and Kazumi returned with black leather boots with six inch heel.
Pat went to her own bag, and pulled out a device which she showed to her pupils. “This is a modified Taser. It does very little systemic damage to a victim, but much more localized damage.” Pat had also retrieved the cock clamp and put it on slave, stopping just behind his dickhead. She began to turn the screws and everyone watched as the spikes sank into his cock meat. When it was as tight as she could make it. She held up the Taser for them all to see. “I’m going to set up a current between his piercing and the ring. Let’s see what happens!”
She turned the Taser on and held it so that the arcing electricity went straight into his helmet. Slave stiffened in his restraints, his abs and chest muscles becoming as stiff as boards. Pat just held the Taser in that one place. His cock head began to swell and swell and swell, and a high keening noise could be heard issuing from slave’s throat. Suddenly everyone heard a popping sound and slave’s prickhead exploded like an overripe cherry, covering all of them with bits of penis. Slave sagged in his restraints. His cock had just been beheaded through the application of raw electricity, even as the women experienced jolts of sexual energy move through their own bodies. Pat looked enormously satisfied and aroused. She even had slipped one hand down to press against her snatch.
“This slave will never again achieve sexual release. Isn’t that wonderful? And he’ll suffer humiliation every time he drops his drawers. Ok. Time to make him sterile.” Pat fiddled with the pulley and winch system so that his legs were brought forward and his whole body dropped to the floor. Soon he was sitting on his ass, legs pulled wide, and his two bruised balls lay against the hard, unyielding wood. Then she bagged his scrotum with a thick, clear plastic and tied it off so that their heels would pierce the ball meat but not the skin.
“Ladies, you each take a ball, and give us a show! And remember girls, this is an S&M sex show, so don’t be shy with your own pleasure.” Pat herself was rubbing one tit with one hand, and had the other down in her pants. Cynthia, never one to pass up a chance to orgasm, was already pleasuring herself, while Angela had slipped off her shirt and bra and was rubbing an icy water bottle against her slippery, erect nipples. She was shivering in anticipatory ecstasy.
Kazumi and Diane looked at each other for a moment, and then made an agreement. Kazumi took his larger leftie and Diane his smaller right ball.
“Bounce first?” said Diane.
“Yeah. Let’s make him wait for it.”
With their heels on their chosen ball, they began to bounce a bit, letting the heels sink in deeper and deeper. Everyone could see his testicle balloon and bulge with the weight of these two beautiful women. Crimson scrotum and bubble balls smooshed out onto the floor. Kazumi reach out to cup Diane’s breasts, gently kneading them and Diane returned the favor by tweaking the nipples on Kazumi’s smaller but very pert orbs. Kazumi moaned in response.
Soon the two women were so engrossed pleasuring each other that they forgot about taking it slow with slave’s nutting and they accidently stepped down fully on his balls. The heels met with only token resistance, and then burst through the orbs with sexy “CRUNCH” noises. A sort of stiff snapping sound, which indicated his balls had been skewered. Both heels when right through the heart of his nuts, and slave convulsed in his restraints. His headless cock spasmed and released small dribbles of semen, the last he would ever produce, onto the floor. All the women of the group orgasmed multiple times and Kazumi and Diane twisted and dug their heels into his hapless organs. Then they pivoted and smashed his nutsack with the toe of their shoes, breaking up the pieces of testicle one by one. The room was full of heavy breathing.
Pat wanted them all to have more. She had the two women smashing his balls to step back and she hoisted slave up until he was hanging from the ceiling, legs still spread wide. Now his swollen and bruised nutsack hung down like a bloated balloon. It hung there like a huge red melon.
“Let’s turn his mushy bag into gel, girls!” Cheers erupted. They each took turns smacking and kicking what was left of his manhood until his babymakers were the consistency of babyfood.
Panting and heaving, Pat finally said. “OK. Another dirty man, down for the count. Gather up your stuff and I’ll see you next week. Work hard, and I’d encourage you to find a ‘dummy’ to practice your moves on at home! Take care, and drive safe!”