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.
Oh wow Nicholas it was great and hot story. Situation and things a lot of connection with my personal experiences. I like that special ball crusher and blood rush back to the nuts cause electric pain. Also place was San Francisco and bears came to the BB party is like a my life lol. I hope his last bigger eggs crushed by Kris's strong fists after busting and softening huge testicle ;-) Thanks again it was thrilling and hot to read woof.
ReplyDeleteBBcrusher
Glad you liked it, monsieur!
DeleteWhat a amazing great story...I really love it..
ReplyDeleteI'm so hot. It's reminds me of 'Tom's Testicle' feelings.
Glad you liked it!
DeleteBy the way. the 'Tom's Testicle' are my favorite.stories...I really wish you could write them more ^ _ ^ oh my god
ReplyDeleteInteresting. You're the first person to express interest in the two Tom's Testicle stories. I thought they were rather unpopular. But, it just goes to show, one man's treasure . . .
DeleteI loved the story it's fantastic I love testicles pain I have lived where I hope you write again
ReplyDeleteThanx Jon. Glad you liked it. I hope I write more stories too!
DeleteHow much torture your balls can handle
DeleteWhich stories are truly about yourself and what was your age at the time it took place
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry. Are you asking me, the author?
Delete