Target Practice: S&M Week (groupF/M) - repost

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!”

Target Practice The Next Week (groupF/M) - repost

Target Practice: The Next Week

 

All the women rushed to practice the following week. Usually most of them had the “yet another thing in my schedule” attitude running in the back of their minds, but now that they were emasculating men in hands-on ball busting, there was no keeping them away!

Two people, however, actually arrived late – Pat, their teacher, and Angela, the young blond of the group.

“Sorry I’m late, the traffic was really terrible, and I’ve just come from Angela’s place. And . . . it’s all true, we have another volunteer!”

There was cheering and clapping. The virginal redhead was actually hopping up and down.

“Settle down, settle down. Angela and her male will be here shortly, so why don’t we do our stretching and warm-ups.”

Ten minutes later, right in the middle of a Pilates pose, the studio door opened and in walked Angela with a man in tow. He was on the short side, but handsome with dark brown hair and a compact, muscular physique.

“Everyone, this is Erin, my husband. Erin, this is my self-defense class.”

“Howdy,” was his sheepish reply.

Pat stepped in. “Erin was a gymnast in college and is a tough male specimen. As with Tray, he’s agreed to let us pound his balls into mush and be a punching bag. Isn’t that right?” Pat looked over at him.

“Yes mamm,” was all he said. He didn’t look afraid or resistant, but rather calmly compliant.

“In that vein, we’re going to start out with regular padded practice. With a twist.” Pat led the couple into the changing room. When they came back, there was Erin in a full padded body suit and two punching mitts on his hands, with one interesting fact – there was nothing covering his crotch. In fact his naked cock and balls just hung there, while the rest of his body was padded up. Rather an amazing sight.

As usual, Pat took control of the situation, even as the women gawked at their new living dummy. “Form a line! That’s good. Now I want you each to practice your hits and kicks and punches on Erin, here. You’ve got the normal practice pads and mitts to aim for. However, as you can see he has no cup on. In fact he has no protection what-so-ever in the groin region. So, when you feel the urge, go for his nuts as hard as you can. I’ll keep him up and running.”

Erin set himself to take hits, and said, “Don’t worry ladies. I’ve got tough balls. Give me your best.”

The first up was Cynthia, and she set the pace for all the other women. She hit the mits, she slammed her leg into his torso, she pummeled his face mask, and boy, did she ever go for his testicles. She kneed him, slammed her shin into them, and even punched the flopping organs a few times. Then it was the next women. She did the same, and all the women followed suit. Erin was shown no mercy, and with his genitals hanging there, flesh colored against a protection outfit of black and red, they were a very obvious and tempting target.

Each time his nuts took more than he could handle, Pat was there to drag him upright again and get the momentum going. Around and around they went, and as time went by they consistently spent more time racking Angela’s husband than they did aiming for anything else. This included Angela. It looked like she was really getting off on hurting her husband. It was as if the tigress in her had been unleashed. In a half an hour, Erin was barely able to stand, his cock and balls were red and swollen and yet they still hung there, ready for more, or so it seemed to the women.

Erin was given time to rest, and Pat used his break to critique their moves and refine their technique. When he had recovered they moved on to the next exercise.

“Now, we’ve all practiced what to do with a man who is standing, coming at you from behind or in front; someone moving. But what happens when you’ve got him on the ground? What do you after you’ve impaled his foot with your high heeled shoes? What steps do you take after you’ve kneed him so hard he’s on the ground puking? Well, you do what everyone does, naturally: you kick a man when he’s down. So, we’re going to hog-tie Mr. Lynch here and you’re going to just kick the hell out of him. I’d advise going for the balls again, but also the ribs and the head are all good targets as well.”

Erin went prone, on his back, and Pat tied his hands together. Then his ankles, and then she tied the two together. Having been a flexible gymnast meant he wasn’t particularly discomforted by this, and there he was, a hog-tied, padded turtle, stuck on his back and with his naked nuts hanging there for all to see. They were pink and pendulous, heavy and bloated. What a lovely sight.

The brunette with the curly hair went first. She yell “NO!”, as if being assailed by a mugger or rapist, and then leveled a mighty kick to his testicles. She followed that up with several more kicks to the groin, then to the ribs and finished with a solid slam to his head. With all this, it would be a miracle if he didn’t end up with a concussion, but Erin seemed pretty willing to just go with it.

Angela was next. She was obviously using the opportunity for getting back at her husband - cloths left on the floor, toilet seats left up, garbage not taken out. She yelled and screamed epithets at him while she kicked him between the legs. She didn’t even bother to go for anything but his balls. They were swelling something fierce by now, and were starting to bruise. Over and over she kicked him in the nuts, and Eric knew for sure he wasn’t walking out of the studio a man.

All the women had a go at kicking him, their tennis shoes leaving bruises all over his body, and each taking special care to kick him where he lived. When he finally started yelling, “OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD,” Pat felt it was time for their normal rest break, and they left Erin lying there to recover why they all went off as a group to talk.

“Isn’t this going to mess up your sex life?” asked one woman.

“Yeah, and what about having children?” asked another.

Angela just smiled, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “I just tested positive two weeks ago. I’m pregnant! And this is perfect because Erin never wanted to have children, so I’m making sure he gets what he wants, and I get what I want. One child for me, and no more for him.“

“Congratulations” “That’s wonderful!” “Oh, that’s so romantic!” Everyone hugged her. They sipped water, nibbled on protean bars and did some stretching. Pat had taken Erin to the changing room. When she returned, they were called back.

“Ok. For our next exercise, were going to reverse the situation. What if you’re on a bed, or on the floor, or need to defend yourself from a prone position? Well, naturally going for between a man’s legs is your best option. Erin here is going to straddle these balancing bars for us. As you can see, he’s now completely naked. One at a time, you’re going to lie beneath him, and kick, hit, smack, slap or punch them as they dangle above you. I’m going to position the balance bars underneath the ring in the ceiling we used last time, and Erin will be tied to it, unable to protect himself. Sound good?”

“YES!” screamed all the women. It was like they were at a rock concert or something.

With grace and skill, Erin set himself between the bars, swung his legs up and did the splits between them. His scrotum hung heavy, and his nuts were like two mutant apricots. Pat tied both his hands above his head, and then attached it to the ceiling with some rope.            Then she put a hood over his head.

For the women, it was a little awkward laying between the base of the bars, on a hardwood floor, but the girls seemed to manage. Each one got to lie beneath this man’s hanging fruit, look up at it, asses its supreme vulnerability, and then launch everything they had at it, which was actually somewhat difficult. They had to really reach to punch his nads, and they had to bring their leg up to their chest in order to aim their feet at the orbs. It was hard work. Probably pretty miserable for Erin too, but he had no choice in the matter.

Women swatted them, slapped them, punched them, kicked them, and all of them, when it was time to get up, pulled themselves upright by way of the hanging sack above. Erin felt like his balls were being ripped out by their roots. They had swollen to the size of large oranges and ached like hell. Pat came up and cupped the bloated orbs. She groped them, and squeezed them. They were ready for the last phase.

“OK. So you now have some idea of how to incapacitate a man while you’re laying down. Difficult, isn’t it? High ground always has the tactical advantage, so you have to be more persistent and more vicious. Don’t be afraid to go for the knees – a broken kneecap will put him down for good.”

“For our final position, we’ll practice stomping. Nothing finishes a man by a burst testicle or two. How long are we going to do this to Erin, here? Until they explode in their sack. The only way to neutralize a guy is to neuter him. Ok Erin, down you go.” She unhooked him and lowered him to the floor. She tied his hands behind his back but kept the hood on. She didn’t want him seeing who ended up emasculating him. He might hold a grudge.

“One-at-a-time, step up between his legs. Aim your foot and stomp his goobers to mush. You’ll want to use the heel. When you’ve downed a man, and incapacitated him, you’ll want to use the heel of your dominant foot to grind his baby makers into pulp. Like so.” Pat quickly aimed and slammed her heel into his huge left nut. Erin moaned loudly “Alright! First up!”

They lined formed and each took their turn between his legs. With the hard wooden floor preventing any chance of escape, it wasn’t long before one of the women caused a testicle to rupture. The virginal redhead put all of her weight behind one vicious heel stomp, and the right nut just exploded under the impact.

“I did it! I did it!” She shouted with glee. Everyone had heard the pop, and they congratulated her. Erin meanwhile was whimpering in abject pain. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Far worse than a simple kick or hit.

“One more to go,” said Pat. “Keep it up.”

Now they had one whole ball to pound and one which was just mushy remains. The raven-haired girl was up next, and she smashed the whole package flat and watched as Erin twitched with each stomp. Two women later, Angela was up, and she was determined to destroy her husband. She stomped his balls so hard that the dance studio’s glass along the wall vibrated. It wasn’t long before the remaining ball, his larger left one, gave way under the impact, and with a loud “squick”, she made it split down the middle and squeeze out its contents. Everyone cheered. Erin’s brain couldn’t even process the situation and he passed out, but all the women decided to keep pounding his mushy sack until class time was officially over. The swollen sack made such wonderful squelching noises that even Pat had some goes at it. Tired and sweaty, they were all ready to go home at the appointed time.

“Well, our time’s up for today,” said Pat. “Next week I have an even bigger surprise for you all, if all goes as planned. So I’ll help Angela fix up poor broken Erin here, and remember girls, you are only the ‘victim’ if you choose to be. See you next week!”

Target Practice (groupF/M) - repost

Target Practice

 

The noise in the windowless dance studio fell to a hush. The seven women in the Self Defense class looked at their teacher. She smiled.

 

“So, girls, we have a special treat this week. I know you’re all gotten tired of beating up mannequins, so Cynthia, here, has convinced her son, William, to let us use his naked balls for target practice today. All day long. So that you get a realistic impression of what it’s like to defend yourself against a man.”

 

All the women cheered and smiled. Their first real, live pair of nuts to practice on. Normally live men were padded up so that they wouldn’t suffer any damage, but this would be different. More authentic.

 

“So, I want you all to treat him as you would the mannequin. No holds barred, don’t hold back.” Pat turned to Cynthia. “Why don’t you bring him in, dear.” The woman nodded and left the building. She returned with her son in tow. He had brown hair with golden highlights, was about 5’11” and very handsome. He was fully dressed, in jeans and a flannel shirt, and his eyes were covered with a blindfold

 

“Now girls here are the rules. You are not to converse with Tray here directly and you are not to take off his blindfold. It’s there to prevent him from flinching when you target his balls for damage. It also means he can’t hold any personal grudges if and when you actually destroy his balls. You’ve agreed, Tray, that the destruction of one or both of your testicles is acceptable?”

 

He smiled and said in a sweet southern voice, “Of course, mamm. I want all these good ladies to feel like they can have their way with my cahones. They can do whatever they want. I don’t mind if they go bust.” Cynthia touched her son’s shoulder with affection.

 

“Oh, Tray. You’re so brave.”

 

“It’s nothing, mamma. I’d do anything for you.”

         

All the women sighed at that. It was so sweet and respectful him.

         

Pat took charge. “Now young man, let’s see what we have to work with today. Strip!”

         

“Yes mamm.” Tray smiled and stripped off his shirt. He was smooth, had big pecks, pert nipples and a six-pack. His muscle mass was just right – not too bulky and not too lean. He skin had the glow of a healthy tan.

Next came off his shoes (which Cynthia helped with. It was hard to untie laces without seeing what you’re doing). Then his pants. Underneath them he was wearing white Calvin Klein briefs and his package was ample, to say the least. He didn’t seem abashed though, at undressing before a bunch of strangers. He pulled his briefs down and out plopped his manhood. Heavy, Luscious. Relaxed. His white socks he kept on. As he put it, “The floor is cold, mamm, and I want my balls to make a good target.”

 

With the blindfold on, the seventeen year old was immune to anticipating attacks and as an added insurance, Pat tied his hands behind his back with a white Karate belt. As almost a natural instinct, the boy spread his legs, squared his shoulders and set his face to “neutral”, so that the women could get on to busting his balls.

 

“Now,” lectured Pat, “Today’s goal is to see how much abuse a man’s nuts can take until they crumble. It’s important to know exactly how much force it takes to the groin to bring a real male to his knees and how much abuse their eggs can take before cracking. First up, I want some solid hits to his balls. Line up!. That’s it. Now make sure you practice your straight punches. Kneel and drive your fist straight into his groin. See his balls? They’re just dangling there, just hanging there. No protection what-so-ever. It’s a great time to take out your aggressions on a man’s livelyhood.”

 

The women got into a queue and the first lady, a young brunette stepped forward. In one fluid motion she sank to one knee and punched the young man straight in the nuts, first with her right fist and then with her left in a one-two sequence. The pendulous organs flopped around and Tray “oofed” slightly.

 

“Excellent! Next up.”

 

All seven women took shots at his balls, the last in line being Tray’s mom. Despite what one would expect, her hits were the hardest. She really racked her son, and all the women took note. She seemed to be encouraging brutality.

 

“Next we’ll try Karate chops. Stand with your back to Tray and chop his nuts from behind. First use your right then your left hand as you never know which one you’ll have free to immobilize an attacker with. Keep chopping until you actually hit either one or the other dead on. Splitting the sack will cause very little damage and little reaction. We want to incapacitate the bastard!”

 

First up was a beautiful 30 year old blond, who stood with her back to Tray. She mentally target his fat left nut and then chopped her left hand into it. The boy shuddered, so she knew her aim was good. She slammed her hand into it again. Then she switched to her right hand and his right ball. She felt the dense bubble as she compressed it into his pelvis. Using a real man was so thrilling!

 

All the women had their turn on him. Then it was time for the squeezing! “Now remember to really grip his gonads firmly and twist and yank on them if you can. We want to bring that mugger to his knees.”

 

The woman all had their chance to grope his balls and mutilate them. At one point, Pat shouted to the red-head of the bunch, “You’ve got nails. Use them! Dig them in and see if you can’t puncture his balls. Remember, we’re going to destroy them anyways, so show no mercy.” The buxom red-head did as instructed and tried to pierce his bollocks, and although she didn’t break skin (her nails weren’t long enough), she did manage to leave deep welts. By this time Tray was moaning slightly. His nuts feel bruised and abused, but he kept those muscular thighs spread for them.

 

“OK. Good. Now, we’re going to do free form, and I want each of you to keep up the pace until you bring Tray here to his knees. Everyone watch, now. OK. Go!”

 

A fifteen year old curly-haired girl had the first go at him. “HAH!” she yelled as she punched his nuts, then she pulled and yanked his sack towards his knees, then she slapped them repeatedly. This brought the boy to his knees and he gave a little cry.

 

“Good. Up on your feet again, boy.” Pat hauled him up. “Next!”

 

The women went at him for an hour, each trying to bring him to his knees. Naturally Cynthia was particularly brutal on her son. There was never any doubt in the South that mother’s owned their sons. Completely. She, along with the other women, were getting hot and turned on by the activity, and they all watched each other, eager to have another go on him. Tray was at the groaning stage, where it got harder and harder to get back up. His nuts were swelling and he was sweating – a thin sexy sheen which coated and accentuated his musculature. He was panting heavily by the time Pat called for a break.

 

“OK. Have some water, stretch, eat. In our second hour, we’ll work on our knees and kicks.”

 

All the women were excited and huddled together in the back of the room, sipping glacier water and eating protein bars. Tray meanwhile was on the floor, curled into a ball, trying to control the unending ache in his balls and stomach. His hands were still cuffed together.

 

“Times up. Back to work. Now kicking isn’t’ something you’ll always have to do on random attackers, as you’ll probably be too close, but burying your foot into a man’s nuts can have endless application in real life. If you’re husband gets abusive. If your sons get out of control. Any man is potential target. Well start with knees. Get right close to Tray and jam your kneecap hard between his legs. Imagine your trying to squish his fat testes. I don’t want you to stop kneeing him until you get both balls, head on.”

 

Despite the pain, Tray was looking forward to this part. One reason he’d agreed to this situation was he’d always fantasized about getting kneed in the groin, and particularly by his mother, so when his mother was first, and he could smell her familiar perfume, he smiled and spread his legs even wider. WHAM, her knee connected with his balls. Right up into them. They oozed against her hard knee-cap. She savored the sharp intake of breath from her son. That had to hurt. WHAM WHAM WHAM. Cynthia was merciless with her son’s nuts.

 

Then the rest of the group had their knees between his legs. From the front, from the back. His fat swollen gonads were a wonderful dangling target for them all, and they did their best to incapacitate this would-be attacker. Each enjoyed being so close to a strapping young man, his hard body at their mercy. Thirty minutes of this had him on his knees whimpering like a young dog who’d just been snipped.

 

“Everyone’s doing fantastic! Simply excellent. OK. The home stretch. In this final phase we’ll practice our kicking. Now, in a normal man a single kick probably wouldn’t ruin him, and therefore is a perfectly legitimate maneuver to use. But we’re here to understand the extremes’ of male behavior, and nothing ruins a man’s day like mangling his manhood. So you’ll take turns in a rotating line to kick this boy’s balls until they give completely. The first person to pop a ball gets this box of Nell Davis’s pecan pralines, the one who completes his emasculation gets this bottle of Biolage’s Volumatherapie shampoo. Ready? Tray, how are you holding up?”

 

He sounded a bit limp, but was a trooper. “Just fine, mamm,” he mumbled. ”I can’t wait to feel what your ladies have in store for me.” The women clapped at his heroism.

 

“To make sure he’s supported, I’m going to tie his hands to the ceiling with this pully, and tie his legs to those two rings. We’ll have uninterrupted access to his groin. First though, we’ll have to deal with this.” Pat stroked his half-swollen member until it revived and became hard. It was a healthy eight inches and she taped it to his belly with some scotch tape. No point in having it get in the way. Up went his arms, out when his legs, and soon he dangled in front of them, like some modern day Christ – martyr to the hungry feet of women. His testicles were swollen to twice their normal size and had contracted to either side of his prick, like huge shiny, red lemons. The women lined up. It was go time.

 

The tall raven-haired girl took first crack at his eggs. She launched a volley of kicks to his nads, burying her shin into them They were so spongy and rubbery, ideal for kicking. Tray was already moaning loudly. After about six or seven brutal kicks, the next woman came up. She aimed her feet and delivered eight or nine toe punts to his nuts. She could feel the orbular nature of them, their springy flesh, and as she was young enough to be a virgin, these were the first testicles she’d ever had access to. It was amazing.

 

When it was his mother’s turn, she got close to him first and whispered into his ear softly. “I’m going to try and be the one who bursts your first ball. Tell me how much you want me to nut you, son.” She fingered one swollen agate and squeezed it.

 

“I want you to burst a nut mamma. I’ve always wanted it,” he said in a whimpering voice.

 

“You’ve always been such a good son.” Cynthia stepped back and let out a kai yell, slamming her foot full force into his left nut. The thing bulged and squished. Again she kicked it and then again. On the fifth kick Tray wailed. “I think it’s gonna go, mamma,” he blubbered.

 

Cynthia appreciated the encouragement. “Oh, you’re so good to me, son.” Wham. Wham . . . SQUISH. The testicle had ruptured and began to leak its contents.

 

“Mamma! My ball! My ball!” All the women clapped. Cynthia continued to kick the broken ball. Why leave it whole, after all? It was useless now, anyways. When she stopped she found herself flushed and out of breath. It was such an exciting moment for her, damaging one of her son’s nuts beyond repair.

 

“I have to go sit down for moment. You all carry on.” The woman went over to a chair too cool off.

 

“OK, next up. We have one ball to go. You first,” said Pat pointing to the only blond in the group. She took stock of herself and pinched a nipple. It was so exciting to ruin a guy. She aimed carefully and did her best to take out his remaining testicle. It was difficult. The mush from the other ball got in the way, so really she was getting it too. Over the sound of Tray’s blubbering was the heady sound of her foot solidly “thunking” into his last potato. His big fat swollen potato. And with a final kick the blond burst it with a loud “splat” sound, the organ detonated within its sack. All Tray could do was whisper “my balls, my balls” over and over until with a shudder he passed out.

 

“OK, good job girls. Next week we’ll practice our incapacitating moves again. That’s all. Drive safe.” Pat handed out the prizes and wrapped up the session while Cynthia attended to her broken son and his broken balls.

         

Cottaging Roulette cont. (M/M) - repost (mini story)

Cottageing Roulette cont.

 

Rob nodded and swallowed the beer. His best friend Keith was telling the rest of Rob’s fellow employees about a girl he had banged last night and what a ditz she was. But while the conversation had turned to girls, all Rob could think about was that it was Friday night and he was for sure going back to that park restroom to get blown by the mysterious ball crusher. So what if he lost a nut or two? The guy had a mouth like a hoover, and the danger was thrilling. Like skydiving, only less fatal. Rob reached under the table and surreptitiously rearranged his privates which were getting hot and bothered in anticipation.

Later that evening Rob was in his truck on his way to the park. It was a warm summer’s evening and Rob’s dick was already leaking precum. There was a slight stain on his jeans. He pulled up to the parking lot, shut off the engine and jumped out. He power-walked to the latrine. As before, three of the stalls were already occupied by guys who took cottageing seriously enough to get an early start, so Rob took possession of stall number 4. He closed the door, pulled down his jeans and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. About five minutes after he had sat down someone stepped into the fifth stall. He heard the door close and then some heavy breathing as whoever it was kneeled and got his mouth right up close to the hole in the wall separating the two latrines. Rob stood up and pushed his junk right into the guy’s waiting mouth. Oh, it was heaven – warm, strong suction and a twirling tongue which put gentle pressure on the underside of Rob’s cock. Rob began to pump the guy’s face, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. He could feel his balls slap against the man’s chin, chaffing slightly against his stubble. Then the man on the other side of the wall took charge and took hold of Rob’s balls. The squeezing began and it caused Rob to slow down his pumping. Oh, it was painful, but exciting too. The man began to pull on the two walnuts that he was compressing in his hands. The man pulled and squeezed on Rob’s agates. It was breathtaking in its painful simplicity.

Then the man sucking Rob’s cock stopped sucking and instead stroked it with one hand and stopped the nut pain. Instead the guy was doing something - Rob could hear him searching through pockets. Rob heard a paper packet being torn open. And then all of a sudden a shooting pain stabbed the top of Rob’s left ball. OH MY GOD, the man had brought needles, and was skewering Rob’s ball. The man kept Rob’s junk trapped on his side of the stall with one hand firmly gripped around Rob’s shaft and continued to press the needle all the way from the top of Rob’s testicle to its bottom. Clearly he was going to impale the thing. It was agonizing, even with the man still stroking Rob’s member.

When the needle in firmly in place, pain exploded in Rob’s other ball. This guy was going to turn Rob’s gems into shish kebobs. The needle traveled the length of its host gonad. Rob moaned in pain, his face pressed against the wall, but even so, his cock remained rock hard. Rob moaned again, loudly. Gushes of prejack dribbled down his cock, and the buster on the other side of the wall licked it all off, then he resumed sucking Rob’s cock. Now Rob’s two skewered balls writhed in their sack and in doing so caused a deep ache in Rob’s stomach, but that darn cock was close to blowing its load. The needle pierced nuts drew up tight into Rob’s abdomen and a torrent of red hot cum spewed down the buster’s throat. It was rich and coated as it went down. The buster sucked it all in but didn’t touch Rob’s pouch, because he knew he didn’t have to in order to cause pain. The needles would do a fine job of that until they were removed.

Rob pumped himself to completion, sweating from excitement and pain. His nuts hurt, his dick was exhausted from being hard all day, and he felt completely drained. He felt the man tie something to the end of his dick, just behind the head, and then leave the stall and disappear into the night. Rob fell back onto the toilet seat and stared at his own crotch. He untied the note, which read: “I have placed two sterile needles into your balls. Leave them in until next week when I will take them out. Think of me every time you cum until then.” Rob brought the small card up to his nose. It smelled like Hugo Boss’s “Red” cologne and for some reason the tight, small handwriting seemed slightly familiar, though Rob couldn’t place it.

‘Whew. Well, that was a novel experience,’ thought Rob. He tenderly cupped his gems, and felt them pulse in a deep aching throb. He could just make out the holes where the needles had entered. ‘Well, I certainly will think of you every time I cum. That’s assuming I can cum during the next week.’

Rob let his balls drop, wincing as they did, and gingerly pulled up his pants. He fervently hoped he’d get used to the dull ache in his loins, otherwise he’d have to call in sick to work for the next few days. He opened the door and waddled slowly out to his truck. He thought about next Friday and the unknown guy taking the needles out. Rob’s dick twitched and started to get hard again.