(M/m) Daddy and Me (part 1) - NEW!

So here's the m/m story I've been working on for a while. Hope it pleases. Cheers!

 

n.

 

 

Daddy and Me Part 1
 

My name is Jamie and my lover/master/daddy is Kris. We met when I advertised on an S&M site, looking for someone to bust my balls and eventually pop them. We hooked up initially at a local leather bar and when, after a few weeks, we found that we clicked I moved in with him so that I could receive consistent abuse.

Kris isn’t your average daddy. Yes, he’s 35, but he’s fit, smooth, muscular and has a chiseled face and a nice, neatly trimmed beard. He’s got an eight inch penis with unusual girth, and it fills me up like no other dick I’ve been fucked by. He’s got a swimmer’s build, a swimmer’s height, is incredibly strong and is sexy as hell. I on the other hand am about 5’7”, muscular but slight, with black hair, a nine inch dick, and most importantly two really fat nuts in a really loose, pendulous sack. Like Kris, my body is hairless and unblemished.

What you have to know about me is this: my thing is pain. I’m addicted to it. For me pain is pleasure, and I’ve been inflicting torture on myself for years. Even when I was a little kid I’d jam needles into my arm just to see what would happen, and when puberty hit I discovered my nuts – how sensitive they were and how easy it was to cause pain through them. I began to bust my own balls by the age of 14 and I would spend hours alone, when my parents were away, jacking off and busting myself in the nuts. Oh, it was heaven. But of course it’s always much more fun to have someone else do the busting for me, and get off on it themselves. So, when I reached 18 I began to look for someone to keep me in perpetual agony, and thanks to the advertisement, I found Kris. Before him I’d only gotten the odd kick to the balls by friends or boyfriends, mostly done as experiments or dares, but I wanted something more predictable, consistent and fulfilling.

Our first night together we left the bar where we’d met up and came to his place which was an upscale apartment just a few blocks away. Kris was a rising executive in San Francisco investment firm, and was rolling in the dough. He had a fast car, a huge apartment, expensive furniture and every conceivable modern gadget. Like most sadists, his home decor tastes were spare and clean, with lots of metal and polished wood surfaces, and as soon as we went through his front door he had me pushed up against a wall and was kissing me fiercely. Our physical chemistry was off the charts. I was groping him, he was groping me, and we were like two wild animals in heat. It wasn’t long before he had my pants off and he started squeezing my cotton-clad bulge rather firmly. We both knew, as my advertisement stated, that I wanted to be in nut pain, and Kris was only two happy to oblige. While kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe, he reached under my underwear and fondled my balls, to assess their size, their heft and their vulnerability. He was an expert at this, and his right hand singled out my fat left nut and began to squeeze it harder and harder. Oh god, it was great. He began to press his thumb into my ball, and he was an obviously an experienced dom because he knew just how long and just how hard to squeeze to cause maximum pain. I gasped in pleasure and moaned for him to continue.

He let up in the pressure to stroke my rigid cock through the fabric of my boxer-briefs and I pressed my erection into his hand. “Hurt me,” I whispered, “Hurt me so good.”

“Of course,” was his soft reply. He started kissing me even more passionately and grated my two vulnerable rocks together, like he was trying to make peanut-butter out of them. His grip was inescapable and relentless. I loved it. Eventually we made it to his bedroom and we undressed each other as quickly as possible, although I left my socks on to keep my balls loose and ready for action. I flopped down on the bed, and lay with my legs spread. He took the hint and positioned himself so that his knee was between them. Then while he held me by the shoulders, he began to ram his knee into my nutsack. THWACK THWACK THWACK. Naked knee flesh smacked naked ball flesh. He started off quick but slowed down eventually so that we could both stroke our cocks while my balls got pasted. STROKE SMACK STROKE SMACK. He began to look into my eyes as we did this, and watched each pulse of pain pass through them, my black eyes to his hazel ones, and he loved seeing that pain. I groaned loudly. I could feel my balls swelling with the punishment. It was wonderful. That night I secretly wondered how big my balls would get with Kris as their buster, and how big they would get before he popped them for me.

Over the course of that evening the kneeing progressed to hitting, and then pulling, and finally squeezing. He spread my legs, lubed up his extra-fat cock, and plunged it inside of me, practically splitting me in two, all the while squeezing one ball in each hand. I had pain in my ass and pain in my balls and I couldn’t have been happier. I think by the time we both came I was drooling on myself, and only half coherent, but man oh man, what an orgasm it was! The pain in my balls and ass blurred into this mass of tingling pleasure, and I came so hard the cum hit the head board behind me. His cum injected itself deep into my guts, and I reveled in the thought that this hot daddy had breeded me.

That night we cuddled for while, and then had two more exhausting sex/busting sessions before we fell asleep at 3 in the morning. I saw him every night after that for three weeks, meeting him at his door when he got off of work. He always varied his punishment of me: kicks, hits, knees, pulls, smacks, squeezing, and even pulling and twisting. Our sex also varied. Sometimes he wanted a blowjob, sometimes he’d give me one at some point. He liked to fuck me in various positions too, but always with those strong hands of his mangling my manhood. And my ballsack stayed perpetually red and inflamed, while my nuts nearly doubled in size. They were getting to look impressive, by any standard. They were bigger now than AAA hen eggs, but thanks to my voluminous sack, still loose and free. My hope was to get them to turkey egg size before they were destroyed. I looked forward to having to squeeze them into my jeans and having the pain of their compression with me all day long.

He would tell me to do things during the day to keep up my pain threshold. Like punching my own balls or putting weights on them or tying them up for hours on end until they turned purple. And after a few weeks we progressed to the next step of pain and torture. One night he unlocked the door to his “dungeon”. It was full of chains and hooks and leather harnesses and everything else you’d normally find. Evil looking toys, needles, a car battery, and so forth. He put a black hood over my head, and while I was naked strung me up so that my arms and legs were spread wide. I couldn’t see what he was doing, I could only listen. Now that there was no possibility of protecting my nuts (not that I’d ever tried), he began to seriously damage them. He rammed his kneed between my hips, and jerked his knee into my balls. He kneeled down and did straight punches to my dangling nuts so that they slapped against my ass. On one occasion he even sucked in just my left ball and began chewing on it. Not hard enough to pop it but hard enough to make me squirm like a little kid at the doctor’s office.

After several nights of that he decided to up the ante. While I hung there, in the leather harness, he swabbed my sack with alcohol and then got out his needles. He chose the fattest ones and after binding my balls with twine, he began to push needles into my testicles, which were so swollen and fat that he had twice the real-estate to work with when compared to the size of an average guy’s eggs. With each needle inserted it felt like someone had my nuts in a vice and was turning the screws tighter and tighter. It was agonizing heaven. Then to cause extra pain, on one occasion, he electrocuted my balls, and on another occasion fried my balls by lighting the exposed end of the needles with a cigarette lighter. The heat traveled all the way through my onions, causing an ache in my guts unlike any other I had ever experienced.

Night after night of torture, each night culminating in him splooging all over me while he stroked himself and ruined my nuts, and me cumming on myself without anyone touching my dick, but with vomit inducing pain roiling up from the pits of my abdomen all the while. On one morning after such a session, he was leaving for work, and I was still naked in bed. I walked over to the window and rapped on it so he’d look up as he stepped out into the street and headed for his car. He did look up and I pressed my naked cock and balls against the window pane, so that they turned white from the pressure. I wanted to show him my utter devotion, and tease him for what he could do to them when he got home from work. I didn’t care one whit whether anyone else saw me. I loved him that much.

Sometimes we’d go out for dinner to a restaurant. If we sat at a table, across from each other, he’d invariably plant his foot between my legs, and juice my nuts with pressure. Sometimes he’d surreptitiously take off his shoe so that he could roll around my balls with his toes. If we sat at a booth, side by side, he’d slide his free left hand down my pants to grasp just one testicle, and then he’d squeeze it between his rock-hard fingers until my eyes watered. But I never made a noise, and the waiters never knew that such sexual activity was going on. I loved it.

Sometimes we’d be at some diner and we’d both go to the bathroom at the same time. If we were alone, he’d ram his knee between my legs until I fell the floor, coughing and clutching my groin in abject agony; the fact that we might get caught made the whole activity that much more sexy.

But things all came to a head about five months after I moved in. It was Kris’s birthday and he said he wanted to burst one of my balls as his present. I agreed unhesitatingly and asked him how he wanted to destroy it. He said he’d bought a new device designed specifically for bursting human male balls. He showed it to me. It looked like a pair of pliers except it had an especially broad, flat head. He let me choose which ball was popped, though. I reached down and groped my naked package. Even though both balls were swollen and distended, my right nut was still smaller than my left one. It had been that way all my life. So I decided he should crush my right nut, saving the bigger leftie for my final bursting. Kris grinned at that, then he kissed me and grated my rocks together with his free hand.

As a prelude to the bursting he invited all his friends over to the house for a party, and I was strung up, again, blindfolded, again, and then all the guests (mostly consisting of burly bear gay men), got a chance to kick, hit, squeeze or mangle my silky sack. Some of them, of course, also masturbated me, which was nice, and Kris naturally got the opportunity to make me cum, not just once, but three times throughout the night. Each time my testicles became more and more sensitive, and the guys did several drinking games centered around hitting my sack, punching it as hard as they could. CRACK CRACK CRACK. Hard manly knuckles against my naked ball-flesh. I flopped around like a fish on the hook, my rigid pole waving back and forth. At the end of the night I was taken down, and I had to suck off each guy until they came. I drank gallons of cum that night, some of which even went up my nose or into my eye if they wanted to bukake me. Have you ever had cum in your eye? It BURNS. But I was down for it all. Pain was my pleasure.

Two days after that, on Saturday, it was time for me to lose a ball. My right nut was big, ripe and ready to pop. Throughout the day I would squeeze and knead my orb, trying to remember how it hung and felt. I was going to be half a eunuch by that evening, and I wondered what it would be like to only have a half-full scrotum. Would I like it? Would I miss my nut? What was Kris going to do with it once he crushed it? Would he eat it? Preserve it? Throw it away? So many questions. So many possibilities. I was looking forward to finding out.

Early that morning, before Kris woke up, I took a hot bath and shaved off what little pubic hair I had, mostly on the treasure trail. Then I dried myself off and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for my daddy: hash browns, bacon, fresh fruit, orange juice and my right testicle in a soft-boiled egg cup, along with some spinal tap needles. Since my nut was going to be ruined anyway, I thought we might as well get as much mileage as we could out of the thing. Kris was of the same mind. While he was eating his breakfast I stood next to him, and let him push the needles into my fat trapped ball, twirling them and making mush out of my sperm cells. If you want to know the truth, I was on the verge of puking all over Kris and the bed, it hurt that bad, but somehow I retained my dignity and managed not to.

When he’d finished, Kris wanted to shower together, so back to the bathroom I went. I worshiped his body, soaping it up, cleaning him, his hole, his cock, his delicious balls, and every other body part. After he was clean, I bent over so he could fuck me, and he did so, his balls slapping against my butt. It was his favorite thing to do to me in the shower, fuck me, and fuck me hard. He reserved ballbusting for when we were both dry. He rammed his prick into me until he came, but I wasn’t allowed to. He didn’t want me to ejaculate until my ball had been smashed.

I dried both of us off, and we went into the living room, still naked, to watch some TV, next to a roaring fire; it was a cold November Saturday and warming fires were just the thing to ward off the cold.

For several hours we lay on the white bearskin rug, warm and fuzzy, and kissed, hugged, cuddled and acted like any other romantic couple would. But time marches on, and so must kink, so by noon I was strung up in my usual position with Kris taking kicks to my swollen huevos. SMACK SMACK SMACK. His naked toes were burying themselves deeply into my family jewels. Then after a half-hour of that, he kneeled before me and began to suck me off while also punching my balls. I struggled mightily to keep from cumming; ironically the pain in my nuts only encouraged me to jizz down his throat than rather keep me from doing so. I popped my knuckles, bit my tongue and did everything I could to distract myself from the delicious pain my daddy was visiting upon me.

But before I could really lose control, he stopped his sucking and punching and he let me down for a breather. After an hour he returned to the dungeon, and told me to put on one of the ball pressed over just my right nut. Then he told me to tighten the screws. I did so. He told me to tighten them again. I did. Then some more, then some more, followed by another turn. My poor ball was going flatter and flatter. He told me to make another turn. OMG, the pain was amazing. My hands were shaking. I told him I couldn’t turn it anymore myself. So, he handcuffed me and started to turn the screws himself. Soon he was huffing and puffing. My fat ball was exceptionally resilient. It was quite apparent that he was going to have to do something drastic if he wanted to actually pop the ball. Between my howls of pain I could see Kris assessing the situation. Eventually when he could tighten them no further, Kris had me get up off the floor, hooked me back up the harness, and attached a parachute and weights to my nut-sack. And then left me there for several hours while he left the apartment to get something.

I heard him return and fuss about for a while although I couldn’t totally pay attention to him as the agony in my balls was excruciating. But apparently it was only going to get worse.

Kris walked in, holding a syringe and a clear glass bottle of something.

“You ready to give your ball up to me, my little boy?”

“Absolutely,” I croaked.

“Good, I’m going to let you down, and I want you to go to the bedroom and lay down.”

“OK.”

He untied me, took the weights off my balls, unscrewed the press (which made me scream because of the blood rushing back into my nuts), and I hobbled into the bedroom. There were white silk ropes tied to the bed posts. I lay down between them, and watched my daddy come in. He set down what he was holding and began to tie the ropes to me. Each knot, each twist was done with the greatest care, and viciousness. Soon all four of my limbs were tied up and immobilized, tied so tight that my legs and hands quickly went to sleep. Kris smiled at me. I gave a pained smile back. Then he tied a bandana around my head and over my mouth so that I couldn’t make any sounds.

He retrieved his items and showed them to me.

“This,” he said, “is a syringe, and this is a bottle of hydrochloric acid. I’m going to inject this whole bottle into your ball, so that when it’s time to crush it, I won’t have to struggle. Your ball will be one massive liquid balloon.”

My eyes popped out of my head. This man was a diabolical genius. Now this was REALLY going to hurt. I just sort of groaned while I watched him fill the syringe. He then straddled my crotch, plucked up my right nut, and stabbed the needle deep into its heart. I grunted into my gag. He injected the solution against the minimal resistance my ball put up, and then he refilled the syringe and kept doing that until my ball had swollen half again as much as it was. It looked like a huge red kidney bean, and the acid began its work. I could feel it liquidizing the inside of my testicle. OMG it was painful. It felt like someone was roasting my ball over an open fire while I was still attached to it. I writhed in agony and made kicked-puppy sounds while Kris watched and masturbated himself over me. He was obviously enjoying my torment.

Kris murmurred a little ditty while I moaned, “Johnny was a chemist, but Johhny ain’t no more. ‘Cuz what he thought was H20 was H2SO4.”

After a while I felt a different, sharp pain in my groin. I opened my eyes and looked down. Kris had a scalpel and was slicing the right side of my scrotum open, and with a cauterizer was keeping the blood to a minimum. I watched as he pulled out my huge misshapen testicle into the light of the room. The thing writhed and moved slightly as it lay there, being dissolved from within. Little drops of tan sperm were seeping out of it and onto the duvet through the holes the needles had made earlier in the day. Kris handled my precious ball for a while, caressing it, squeezing it, and letting it dry out a little. Then he retrieved his gadget for popping it, the big-headed flat set of pliers. He maneuvered the thing until it was centered on the ball, and then looked at me.

“Are you ready to give your testicle up to me? To my pleasure, to my sadistic thrill?”

I nodded and gurgled into my gag.

“OK. I’m going to jack you off while I squeeze. Cumming will be the last pleasant thing you feel before you pass out. Stay awake until you cum. Don’t fail me.”

Soon I felt the pressure being applied, and I felt his hand stroking my cock, which had now been leaking cum for a half hour. But that wasn’t as pleasant as it sounded, because the pre-jack was laced with acid and was burning my urethra while it dribbled out.

Kris stroked me harder and harder, faster and faster while the pressure was increasing on my nut. I was screaming into my gag. This was more pain than any human being could reasonably bear, and I was getting my wish fulfilled – getting my nut popped by a sadist who wanted it crushed as badly as I did.

With more and more pressure he bared down on my ball, grunting slightly as he did so. We both watched with horror, fascination and eroticism as my raw white testicle compressed in the center and bulged at the perimeter. It bulged more and more, and I was amazed at the resiliency the testicle had. It was now mush in the center and leaking on the outside, but it put up a good fight, and made us both anticipate its final demise.

I began to hold my breath, waiting for its moment to come, and I could see Kris’s cock getting ready to blow, just like mine was. His extra fat cock-head was purple and pulsing, and mine was red and engorged. More, and more and more he pressed. I could feel a scream building and after a few seconds, it exploded from my lungs. AAAAHHHHHH! For at that moment my liquidized testicle popped with a wet “SPLAT” sound, and dribbled its contents everywhere. My penis pulsed in Kris’s right fist and then spattered me with jizz while his own, untouched penis shot all the way to my face and with his eyes closed, Kris savored the end of my ball, and his orgasm. I passed out, and all that I knew for the rest of the night was . . . darkness.