r/castrationstories

I live with my aunt on her farm one day My aunt paid the neighbor to come over to castrated all the newly born male animals we had on the farm. The neighbor came over with her 5 daughter to help with work all home from college this was the first time I seen them in person they all had blonde hair and blue eyes. And were so beautiful I could not stop looking at them very soon they notice i was looking at them. They started to pick on me laugh about how I was looking at them even there mother started pick on me there mother was just as pretty as her daughters. The mother told me I was to small to handle her daughter's my aunt laugh saying everything is small about him. She was right i always been small for my age her daughter were only a couple years older then me but all were taller then me.

I spend the day helping the girl castrated the animals and trying not to look at the girls to much some animals would be banded and there balls would fall off in a couple weeks some animals would have there balls cut off. The girls had lots of fun especially when they got to cut there balls off they would laugh and maked jokes about the size of there balls. We finally finished my aunt thank them and paid them for there time the mother said well noting on this farm has balls anymore they all laugh one of the girls said well except for him pointing at me the mom ask are going to castrated the farm boy too my aunt ask do you have any bands left they pull out a band my aunt reply with well if you can one on him I thought they were joking but i ran anyways the girls case after me knot me to the ground 3 of them held me down as my aunt and there mother laugh and chaired them on they rip off my pants and laughing one girls said omg it so small and i felt another girl grab my balls and slide the band over my balls I begged them to take it off they laugh I asked my aunt to help she just said you'll be fine with out them the mother reach down and squeeze my balls so hard and she wouldn't let go i started to pass out I hear some one ask should we let him keep that tiny Penis as I passed out i heard No

Tags: Ballbusting, castration, post-apocalyptic.
All characters are over 18.

Hunter tried to avoid making too much noise as he walked through the forest. It was difficult with so many leaves on the ground. Through the trees, he caught occasional glimpses of the charred, bombed out skyscrapers from the Before Times.

A lifelong Bunker Dweller, he knew that the Top Side could be a very dangerous place. More than a century ago, wealthy elites had retreated to their giant underground silos when the wars, that they themselves had started, consumed the world above. Hunter’s great-great-great-grandparents were among them. Those left behind on the surface had scraped by ever since, in a ravaged and decaying world.

The underground silos had many comforts and many luxuries, but they didn’t have everything. From time to time, small squads of armed Bunker Dwellers would surface through secret tunnels to gather supplies while avoiding the Top Siders, who for unknown reasons seemed to be entirely female for the last several years.

Hunter was a well built young man in his early twenties. It was only his second time participating on a supply run. Unfortunately, steps were skipped and errors were made, and when the squad was ambushed by Top Siders, Hunter got separated from the rest and was now trying to find a safe way back, sticking to the forest to remain hidden.

After walking for hours without encountering a Top Sider, he finally started to relax and let his guard down. In that moment, he heard a loud whoosh, punctuated by a thunk, and felt a sharp sting on his face. He jolted backwards. An arrow, now lodged in a nearby tree, had left a shallow cut on the bridge of his nose when it grazed him.

He whirled around, drawing his gun and pointing it in the direction he thought the arrow had come from.

“Show yourself!” he tried to yell in a commanding voice. But it came out sounding younger, and more frightened, than he wanted.

Another arrow came sailing out of the forest, this one striking his dominant hand and sending his firearm flying away, disappearing into a pile of leaves somewhere. Hunter grabbed his wrist and let out a short, high-pitched wail. Half of the arrow was sticking out of his palm, the other half was sticking out of the top of his hand.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

He heard footsteps that sounded like more than one person. He looked up and saw two girls walking towards him. They were slender and graceful, naked except for sand-colored loincloths, beautiful in a feral sort of way. He’d learn later in that their names were Tasha and Blaze.

He reached for his Bowie knife at his lower back and found its sheath empty. He looked over his left shoulder in a panic. A few feet behind him, a tall, beautiful, half-naked girl—Natalie—smiled and playfully ran the tip of his Bowie knife between her bare breasts.

“Looking for this?” she asked confidently, teasing the blade around her nipples.

Hunter gaped, astonished she had been able to sneak up behind him and steal his knife without him seeing, hearing, or feeling it.

As he turned back to Tasha and Blaze, Tasha lunged forward and kicked him in the pants as hard as she could. He felt her bare foot flatten his testicles against his body, a pain his gentle bunker life had never taught him. For a moment, it felt like she’d kicked them inside of him. He grabbed his crotch with his left hand, the one that wasn’t impaled, and let out a ragged gasp.

Blaze lunged forward as well, deftly tucking one of her legs behind both of his and shoving him. He flipped over her leg and thumped onto the hard ground, his middle back landing on a tree root that knocked the wind out of him. A long, groaning wheeze escaped his lips.

Natalie stepped forward and slammed her right foot down on his chest, smiling down at him, well aware that he could see her nudity beneath her loincloth. For one second, he stared up at the alluring folds between her legs—something he’d never seen before—and then he gasped in pain as Tasha stomped down on his genitals with her heel.

He rolled over and tried to crawl away. His right hand was throbbing, and his back and his balls were aching. He was abashed. Years of hand-to-hand combat training, and this is how easily he folded?

“Where do you think you’re going, bunker boy?” Natalie asked.

The girls began to pummel him with kicks. He felt three hard kicks against his left side and four, maybe five against the right. He hoped to God that none of his ribs were broken. Then he felt one powerful kick to his balls from behind that sent him screaming into a fetal position. As he rolled over onto his back again, holding his crotch in his hands, the last thing he saw was Blaze running towards him. It was her kick across his face that finally delivered some mercy by knocking him out cold…

He dreamed that he was being dragged through mud by his long black hair while being ruthlessly pummeled by dozens of female assailants who laughed at and taunted him, their faces morphing randomly from beautiful to horrifying…

The sound of a crackling fire awakened him. He tried to move, but he could only seem to swing. It felt like he was … standing? Somewhere above him, his wrists were aching.

It felt like someone was tugging his feet. He opened his eyes, looking down, and saw Tasha and Blaze removing his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie crouching beside a fire she had built in a barrel. He looked over and saw her shoving his Bowie knife through a small, rusted out hole in the side of the barrel.

He looked up, saw that his wrists were tied to a horizontal beam that ran across the room. His right hand, no longer impaled by an arrow, was crudely bandaged. His forearm was caked with dried blood mixed with dirt. As he slowly came to, it dawned on him where he was—a dank, drippy room in a decrepit skyscraper from the Before Times.

“Welcome back, sleepy head,” Blaze teased, noticing he was awake. “Your stupid face almost broke my foot.”

There was a ripping sound as Blaze cut through his black t-shirt and pulled it off of him. Tasha unbuckled his belt and started unzipping his dark green cargo pants.

“Stop!” Hunter yelled, thrashing about.

Blaze punched him in a spot that usually dropped her opponents to their knees—the liver. He groaned and stopped resisting his undressing. Together, Tasha and Blaze pulled down his cargo pants and then his underwear.

“Oh my,” Tasha said.

She and Blaze walked around him in a circle, taking it all in. Hunter was tall, handsome, and very muscular—he looked nothing like the scrawny, rat-faced men that lived on the surface. His long and unusually thick member, surrounded by a bushel of black pubic hair, looked like a velvety sausage wrapped in smooth, branching veins, and behind that member his abnormally large balls rested heavily at the bottom of a long and equally veiny scrotum. Secretly, Hunter spent a lot of time staring vainly into the mirror in his room down below, admiring the size of his package and how well-made the rest of him was.

“Look at the size of those muscles,” Blaze said in awe. “They must feed you boys awfully well down below. And would you look at that ass! This boy has some meat on his bones!”

Blaze slapped Hunter’s ass and gave it a hearty squeeze. Tasha clapped her palm against his crotch, making him gasp, and roughly squeezed his genitals. He gritted his teeth through the pain.

“He has a lot of meat on this side as well,” Tasha said. “And look at all those straight white teeth that he has. He’s so pretty. Must be a pretty cozy little life down in those bunkers. Must be nice.”

“If he’s meaty in the front, we should have fried oysters tonight,” Blaze suggested. “God, I am starving! Natalie—is the knife ready yet?”

Natalie pulled the knife out of the fire she had made. It was smoking, but it wasn’t red hot.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said, and she put the blade back into the flames.

“In that case, can we do a ‘pummel fest’ like we did to the other bunker boy?” Tasha asked.

Natalie smiled. “Sure. Pummel fest was a fun game. And we have a few minutes to kill. Let me just blindfold him first.”

“W-what is a pummel fest?” Hunter asked. “Please let me go. Others will be looking for me.”

Natalie untied her loincloth and removed it, once again revealing to Hunter the pink slit between her legs and the brunette pubes just above it. That part of her looked so soft, so velvety, and so inviting that even in his current predicament, Hunter’s virgin penis visibly throbbed as she sauntered towards him. As she reached up and began to blindfold him with her loincloth, he could smell her scent on it, and could feel his thickening penis pressing against the pubic hair on her mound, as she tied the cloth in a knot behind his head.

Unfortunately for Hunter, “pummel fest” was pretty much what he feared it would be. The three girls walked around him in a circle and simply started beating the shit out of him. He felt every part of his body being hit. He felt six different fists slamming into his chest, stomach, rib cage, and back. He felt his legs being kicked. He felt fists, heels, and knees pounding against his balls until he felt like vomiting. And while they mostly avoided his face so that he wouldn’t be knocked out, every once in a while he did feel a hard slap across his cheek and jaw.

After nearly ten minutes of “pummel fest” the girls stopped to rest while Hunter dangled limply from his wrists, drooling from his mouth. From head to toe, his muscular body was dappled with dark bruises.

“That was so much fun,” Blaze said, leaning on her knees and panting.

“Are you still awake, bunker boy?” Natalie asked, ripping her loincloth off of his head.

When he did not respond, she grabbed his testicles with both hands and squeezed them hard—they were large and firm, and she enjoyed the tough, hairy texture of the veiny skin bag that held them. Hunter opened his mouth and screamed. She pushed her thumbnails into his balls, as deeply as she could. It felt like she was going to split them in half. The pain was so intense that a small amount of urine began to dribble out of Hunter’s cock. She felt the warm droplets on her toes as he pissed himself. He screamed himself hoarse.

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” she said.

The other two snickered. Natalie dropped his balls and returned to the fire. She pulled the Bowie knife from the flames—the blade was red and glowing now, giving off enough heat to make the air above it appear wavy.

“It’s time,” Natalie said. “Spread his legs.”

“No!” Hunter cried. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

Tasha and Blaze wrapped their arms around each of his legs, squeezing them against their bosoms. They pulled, and his feet were lifted from the floor. He thrashed and used all the strength he could muster to keep his legs closed, but he was not strong enough to stop Tasha and Blaze from slowly prying them apart.

Natalie reached out and snatched his balls in her hand, pulling the bruised and swollen things towards her belly as far as they would go.

“No! Please! Please!” he begged. “I can give you access to the bunkers! Food! Medicine! Every possible comfort!”

“No, thank you,” Natalie said calmly. “We’re doing fine up here.”

She held the knife beneath his scrotum. He could feel the heat rising off the blade.

“Please!” Hunter begged. “I can—I can breed with you! You’re an all female society, right? That’s why we haven’t seen any men up here in years. But you must need at least some men for breeding. Don’t you?”

Natalie laughed. “He thinks so highly of himself, thinks he can trade his cum like wheat, barley, livestock… I don’t breed with bunker dwellers. They look strong on the outside, but they are weak, scared, squishy little things on the inside.”

“Please!” Hunter cried. “There must be something you want! I’m begging you!”

“I want you all to stop coming here,” she said. “You bunker dwellers have been coming here for generations—pillaging, killing, taking whatever you want, whenever you want. Every year, there are more of you. From now on, every bunker boy that sets foot on the surface will be sent back without his balls. That should help keep your numbers a little more reasonable going forward.”

“Please!” Hunter begged. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll do any—“

With a quick jerk of her wrist, she made Hunter into a eunuch. He let out an awful squeal as she did so. His scrotum and balls slapped wetly against the floor.

“Ouch,” Tasha said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold him tight,” Natalie said.

She lifted Hunter’s penis out of the way and pressed the flat side of the red hot blade against his wound, resulting in two sounds that coincided: a hot sizzle, and a bunker boy screaming.

As she counted to ten, Hunter’s scream came to an end, his dark chocolate-colored eyes rolled back in his head, and his trembling body fell limp. She withdrew the hot, sizzling blade from his groin and used it to cut him down.

When Hunter awoke, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The sun was still up, but was it the same day or the next? He had no idea. He was lying on the floor on a cushiony bed of leaves, ferns, and moss and wearing only a loincloth. He felt a deep, terrible ache in his abdomen and between his legs. He seemed to have been recently and thoroughly washed, and there was a fresh bandage around his palm.

With a badly trembling hand, he touched the loincloth he was wearing. When he felt its presence, he experienced a profound sense of relief that they had him let keep his cock.

The girls had left four items behind for him: a set of crutches left over from the Before Times, a large bowl of clean drinking water, a pouch full of fruit and nuts foraged from the area, and a handwritten note that read:

“To the handsome eunuch,

Consider yourself lucky! Tell the other bunker boys that the Top Side is ours—they are no longer welcome here.

Thank you for the yummy snack. We have returned the favor.

Now … go back to where you came from. You have safe passage until sundown. If you would like to keep your cock, you had better get moving. Tick, tock.

Signed,
Tasha, Blaze, and Natalie”

Hunter chugged the entire bowl of water at once, downed all of the food they had left him, and tried to shut off his mind to the pain and loss he felt as he made his way hurriedly back to the bunker.

[mm, ballbusting, castration, twink, cum, brothers, commission]

Small clothing store was empty. A lone employee, Jason, sighed. Crowds of beachgoers were constantly walking by, reminding him that he definitely wasn't being paid enough to die here of boredom. Jason was a athletic guy, whose black curtain bangs framed his forehead and dark eyes. He needed some excitement in his life.

The store remained empty until a customer opened the door. Kevin, a young, slim eighteen-year-old guy walked in. He had messy short dark blond hair. He reminded Jason his younger brother, Noah. He too was wiry and slim teenager. Kevin looked at the racks of t-shirts, pants, bikinis and so on, as if being a bit unsure what he was looking for.

"Hi!" he greeted the man behind the counter.

"How can I help you?" Jason replied.

"I'm just looking for beach shorts."

"Over there, behind the t-shirts. Feel free to use the fitting room," Jason said.

While Kevin walked to take a look at the clothes, Jason observed him from behind. Jason wondered if this pretty boy had the same thing that made his brother stand out - a pair of huge balls. Noah's balls were so big that he often had trouble finding the right underwear for himself. Jason left the counter to reorder some pants hangers, while secretly keeping the new customer in the corner of his eye. Eventually Kevin picked a half a dozen colorful beach shorts and walked to the fitting room. Kevin went inside and pulled the curtain behind him.

The fitting room had a mirror and a small stool. Kevin dropped the shorts on the stool and pulled off his pants. There was something unnerving about how the store employee had looked at him. Kevin shrugged the feeling off. Every time he had to try on clothes, he felt a bit nervous. Despite being quite slim, he had a very large pair of balls. They looked unnaturally big on his slim body. In addition to that, they hung in a low sack somewhere between his groin and his knees. Fortunately, Kevin was wearing his black briefs, which provided his balls perfect support. He avoided public gyms, knowing that they would attract unnecessary attention. Sometimes he would even be jokingly accused of stuffing his briefs to show off. Kevin picked the first pair of shorts with yellow palm trees on a blue sky background.

Meanwhile, Jason carefully approached the fitting booth. He snuck from the side, cautiously, so that Kevin wouldn't see him in the mirror. His eyes caught Kevin before he had put on another pair of beach shorts. Jason's eyes widened. At first he even had suspicion that the guy had stuffed a plush toy or woolen socks in his briefs to prank him. Then Jason almost immediately realised, these balls was real. Noone would be able to mimic the roundness and perfect shape of real testicles. Kevin's balls rested in black pouch of his briefs. His dick seemed small in comparison, forming a slight thickness on top of the two balls.

Jason sprung back. He didn't need to be caught. Sweat appeared on his forehead. This customer, young guy, was exactly what Jason was looking for. It was Jason's lucky day. Right there, in his fitting room, was a sack with two enormous sperm orbs. Jason thought back about his brother Noah. These two balls could be even larger than his brother had. Jason felt his dick instantly became diamond-hard.

Kevin's balls were perfect, and the contrast to the lanky body of their owner made them even hotter. That was not the only thing on Jason's mind. He wasn't just an aficionado of slim guys with unnaturally big balls. He wanted to destroy them. Turn these flawless orbs into mush. Kevin presented a perfect opportunity, one he couldn't let go.

Jason had to think fast. One more minute, and Kevin will be out of the booth and out of his store, and his chance will be gone. Jason rushed to the store entrance and flipped the "OPEN" sign. He didn't need any witnesses.

Meanwhile, Kevin had chosen his prefered beach shorts - ones with a colorful pattern of turquoise leaves. It was time to put his pants back on and find the store employee to pay for them. This was when he heard the curtain open. Kevin turned around and saw Jason, who looked at him with a wicked grin.

Jason delivered surprise kick to Kevin's balls, and the pain made Kevin bend over. Next thing he felt was Jason's hand around his throat. Jason pushed Kevin until the back of his head hit the mirror. With the other hand he grabbed Kevin's balls.

"Don't move!" Jason said.

He said it in husky tone, which didn't hide the excitement about what he was going to do. His hand squeezed Kevin's nuts through the fabric of his underwear, eagerly probing them with his fingers. Jason's hard-on was making a tent in his pants. He breathed heavily.

"You're a lucky guy to have nuts like these!" Jason whispered. "But you have to share with others!"

Kevin couldn't speak, as Jason's hand squeezed his throat. He was terrified. Jason pushed one finger under the side of Kevin's briefs and pulled, creating an opening. First one, then another - Kevin's balls rolled out from under the protection of his briefs. They swung like a pendulum in his long, loose sack. Kevin's dick remained trapped inside the briefs.

"Nice sack! Almost like my brother's!" Jason said.

Jason reached between young guy's hairless thighs and grabbed his swinging balls. His fingers sunk into the soft skin, pushing into sack's vulnerable contents.

"Heavy too!" Jason added. "I hope you don't mind I play with them!"

He removed his other hand from Kevin's throat. He knew that the guy, whose balls were in his hand, wouldn't be able to do anything.

"Please, don't h-hurt me!" Kevin pleaded.

"Shut up, bitch!" Jason growled.

He messed with his pants and finally got the fly open. Jason's dick sprung out, hard and pulsating.

"Pull your shirt up!" he added.

Kevin obeyed. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it up, revealing his flat, hairless chest. It was considerably paler than his somewhat tanned face and neck. Kevin's nipples were large and round.

"Nice pinkies!" Jason complimented Kevin.

All this time Jason was grinning from ear to ear. The guy in front of him was ready to do anything in hope to save his big nuts. This fucking moron didn't know they were as good as gone! He run his free hand over Kevin's belly and chest, brushing over young guy's almost unnoticable pecs and his nipples.

"Please, I will do..." Kevin said.

"No more talking!" Jason barked. "Put the shirt in your mouth and hold with your teeth!"

Kevin bit into his shirt. Jason started stroking his dick. He couldn't hold it long in him. Until now he had been simply playing with Kevin's balls, now it was the time to start their final destruction. His fingers pressed into Kevin's balls. The nuts moved under the skin, trying to escape. Jason let one of Kevin's testicles slip away and crushed down on the second one. The fleshy ball was resisting. Jason wasn't going to back down. He increased the pressure. Testicle started changing it's shape, the flesh tried to escape. Finally, ball's outer membrane broke. Testicle's gooey insides popped out, spilling between Jason's fingers. He felt Kevin's nut deflate like a balloon.

Kevin realised what was happening a second too late. The uncomfortable feeling of his balls being roughly handled by Jason turned into sickening agony of pain. He instinctively thrashed, but Jason pressed at him with his whole body. Kevin was pushed onto the stool, Jason's body over him. Kevin had lost consciousness. One ball exploding in Jason's hand was enough to send his mind into nightmarish darkness where he couldn't feel anything. Kevin's eyes rolled back, and he himself remained slumped on the stool in the corner of fitting room.

Jason felt Kevin's ball disapper with a damp squelching sound. His fingers moved inside the gooey mass that used to be a testicle, and mashed it. Each move reduced the chunks, which were left of that testicle, into smaller chunks, until there was nothing more to crush. It felt amazing.

Jason didn't need to stroke much more. His dick shot a thick load over Kevin's chest. Jason pressed his dick at each of Kevin's pink nipples, and made sure that both was covered with another load of white cum. Yet he wasn't really done. Kevin had another huge testicle left.

Jason released the crushed half of young guy's sack. It dropped, full of mush, discolored and misshapen. The other ball was still intact and healthy. Jason raised it up, holding the ball in his palms, as much as Kevin's loose ballsack allowed. He weighted the remainingg ball in his hands and remarked that it was as heavy as regular guy's both balls together.

"Will you let me pop this one too, please!" he asked.

Kevin was unconscious and couldn't reply. His half-closed eyelids showed only the whites of the eyes. Jason giggled.

"I take it as an OK!"

He pressed both thumbs into Kevin's remaining testicle. The ball was resisting his pressure. Jason's semi-hard cock hardened again, dripping with cum. His fingers dug into the flesh, deeper and deeper, until the remaining nut gave in too. At first, membrane on it's sides split and some of the testicular tissue escaped. That was the beginning of the end of Kevin's second testicle. Jason massaged it with his thumbs, pushing nut meat out, dividing it into chunks, that he crushed into pieces. His fingers were hard at work, pulverizing what remained in Kevin's sack. He could feel only gooey ooze and what remained of testicular cords.

Jason came again. He shot his load on Kevin's face, releasing his jizz into his half-closed eyes. Afterwards he stood up, breathing heavily. What a surprising day this had been! Jason pulled Kevin's briefs off his legs. They were his trophy now.

*

In the evening, Jason stuffed Kevin into the trunk of his car. Then he drove home. Jason parked the car in front of the suburban house where he lived with his brother. Today's encounter had made him think of Noah. After all, it was thoughts of brother's huge balls that had made him castrate Kevin.

Noah was upstairs, in the shower. Jason could heard the shower running. He held Kevin's black briefs in his hand. They were quite roomy - able to hold those two giant nuts. Jason stretched the fabric. The briefs were a nice trophy, a reminder of the events of this day. Kevin didn't need them anymore.

He didn't wait long until he heard that the shower stopped running. Noah walked out of the shower, drying himself with a towel. He was a young and slim guy, and, just like Kevin, he had giant balls in his sack. He almost jumped when he saw Jason in front of him, smiling a mischievous smile.

"Hey bro, you startled me!" Noah said.

Something about the way Jason looked at him didn't feel right. There was some dark energy about him.

"I got something for you!" Jason said.

He showed him the black briefs.

"They're just right for your balls. I know that you have trouble finding the right underwear," he added.

"Uhm, thanks..." Noah said.

He extended his arm to take the unexpected gift. Jason let his brother take Kevin's black briefs. Noah was so similar to Kevin. Jason grinned. The same loose sack, small dick and balls that were way too big for his body. Warm shower had made Noah's skin all shiny and wet. Those balls were so tempting...

It was a matter of second. Jason balled his fist and delivered an uppercut to brother's balls. Then another one. Then another. His knuckles mashed into surprised Noah ballsack. Jason didn't count the punches. Whatever he managed to deliver was enough. Noah dropped down and curled into fetal position, craddling his damaged ballsack, whimpering. His balls felt sore. Jason dropped trophy briefs over brother's face.

"There you go, they'll fit you right."

She pulled the steel rod from the forge with a pair of tongs and moved it her anvil before picking up a sizable hammer and striking it. Sparks flew from the hot steel as she worked it striking it over and over again. Suddenly the door burst open and dwarves dragged a human man into the room.

“What are you lads doing and who's the human?” She asked.

“We caught this shite steal’n from the shop!” One of the dwarves said.

“Did you now?” She asked.

She put her hammer down and then returned the steel rod to the forge. Before walking over to the captive man.

“Well, anything to say for yourself lad?” She asked.

“I didn’t do anything wrong this is all just a misunderstanding!” The human replied.

One of the dwarves pulled a dagger in a sheath from his pocket and held it out.

“The lad stuffed this down his pants and tried to slip out with it,” he said.

She glanced at the dagger and then back at the human.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear I was going to pay for it I was…” he added.

She slammed her fist into his crotch cutting him off mid sentence.

“Cut the shit!” She shouted.

The human doubled over in pain the only reason he didn’t fall the to ground was fact the dwarves were holding onto him. She grabbed him by the hair and jerked his face up staring into his eyes.

“You know what we dwarves do to thieves? We crush their stones!” She said.

“What does that mean?” The human asked his voice a gasp.

“Strip him lads!” She said.

The dwarves men start to roughly pull the human man’s clothing off he struggled but it was no use the stout dwarves overpowered him with ease. She walked over to her anvil and picked up her hammer. 

“Over here lads!” She said. 

The dwarves carried the squirming man over to the anvil and lifted him up pacing his crotch  against the cold iron his manhood resting against the flat surface. She reached over and grabbed his member stroking it a few times causing it to grow stiff. She let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh lad I figured you’d be longer as tall as you are!” She said.

The other dwarves laughed as well and the human turned bright red. She started stroking him faster and then picked up her hammer lifting it into the air.

“No stop!” He shouted.

She brought the hammer down on his right testicle with a mighty blow smashing it flat. The man screamed and started to cry.

“Need to call ya lefty at least for the next few seconds that is!” She said.

“Please don’t?!” He asked.

She stroked him even faster as she raised the hammer once more.

“Noooo!” He screamed.

She brought him he hammer down on his left testicle crushing it completely. He screamed again tears running down his face.

“Quit yer bellyaching lad,” she said.

She let go of his rapidly deflating member and looked down at his ruined scrotum for a moment before spitting on it. 

“Get the lad out of here,” she said.

The other dwarves dragged him out of the forge and tossed him into the street. She wiped  off the anvil and retrieved the steel rod with her tongs and got back to work. 

She looked at her hands, smiled and held them up. Flynn still tasted bitter nut mush. He smacked his tongue, swallowed and suddenly shivered, then looked at her hands. He hadn't noticed till now that they were streaming with dry blood from reaching up inside John Fulp's ballsack. She walked behind and he heard a sink run briefly. She slapped his left ass cheek hard as she returned to the cages drying her hands with a towel. John Fulp was weeping and sniffling quietly to himself. Just then a fresh round of heaves rose from his gut and he whined just like a dog. He was trying to come to terms with what had just happened, but it would take him a very long time, maybe never. They would all certainly be on suicide watch for the durations of their sentences. Their cells removed almost all possibility of this.

She smirked at him, took the razor from the chair and set the chair behind the next cage. She sat and then John Fulp groaned in a shrill, weak voice, "How COULD you!?" She turned. He sniffled, started to speak but had to swallow. "You...you ffuckin bitch!!" And then he started crying hard again. She watched him for a moment, then stood and walked between his cage and Steve Alexander's, whose bowels were rumbling louder than his squirming moans.

She squatted and he looked up. His nose was running to the floor, slime had drooled to the floor from his entire bottom lip, and his red eyes were actually trickling tears into a pool. His lips quivered at her. He swallowed. She laughed a little through her nose, brought the towel up and dried his face, eyes first, then down across his nose and mouth. Now she could clearly see the tightness of his grimace. He was overwhelmed with disbelieving despair. Maybe he was having a nightmare. He'd wake up in his cell and be all there. He'd immediately jerk off in relief. The look on his face told her that he was shackled there actually hoping for all this. She took a deep breath, swallowed it, let out a long belch and blew it in his face. He shut his eyes and whimpered away. "Did that smell like Gatorade and chewed-up testicle?" she asked. He sniffled his gaze back to hers. She smiled. "Because I just ate one. I think they're delicious." His whole chin quivered. "Would you like me to cut your throat?" she asked. He sniffled in for a moment. Then nodded. She grinned her perfect teeth at him. "I know. And I won't." She winked and stood.

His heaving sobs rang around the room again, pure sorrow, grief, despair, bereavement. He had just lost his two best friends.

She tossed the towel onto his back, picked up his clipboard and replaced it, then sat behind the third man, took his clipboard and read loudly to be heard over John Fulp, "David Andersen!"

"Miss!" David Andersen shouted.

She looked over. "Hmm?"

"Please! You don't have to do this!"

"Everybody always says that. Yes, I do."

She turned back to the clipboard but he spoke again and he sounded very calm, "No! No! I mean, I'm! I'm worth well over five million dollars and I will give it ALL to you right now! Please! We get my lawyer on the phone and he'll bring it to you in cash! I swear to God! Just - just - I mean, you can beat me within an inch of my life! Pound on me! Break my bones! Put me in the hospital! Please! I'm not asking to be set free from prison!!"

She blinked, looking him over. Lean, muscular physique. Nice-sized balls, taut against his taint. Average dick. He was already rock hard.

Then they all heard, "David Andersen! 28 years old!" David Andersen sighed and gulped vocally. "Six feet one inch! Hair dark brown. Eyes hazel green." David Andersen started growling and shaking as hard as he could side to side. His cage moved a little, but neither side left the floor. His shackles held him tight and the frame was iron. He started bellowing in fury and shaking in every direction to get free but his chains held him to his fate. "Crimes! Sedition, one! Aggravated assault, three! Arson, two hundred twe - TWO HUNDRED TWELVE!?" She stood and walked between Fulp's cage and his, squatted and what he saw frightened him completely still. His anger and color bleached from his face. Her fiery green eyes radiated fury far beyond any level he could manage. Fury incarnate. Fury with power.

"TWO HUNDRED AND TWELVE!?" She spat thick, slimy saliva into his eyes and he winced them shut. He shook his head but the spit stuck like glue. If he opened his eyes, it would run right onto his eyeballs. He wouldn't open his eyes. He heard paper flip up. "Detailed! Arson! Businesses! Residences! Landscapes!" She lowered the clipboard. "FOREST FIRES, DAVID ANDERSEN!"

"JUST FUCKING DO IT!!!" he roared in a bass voice so loud he clenched his eyes tight. She did not blink. "YOU GODDAMN FUCKING CUNT!!!!" His voice broke into a shrill raggedness. Both his statements resounded like atonal brass bands playing different songs at once. He panted and swallowed, and slowly opened his eyes. She was still there and he looked up to her glare.

"You got it!" she growled and disappeared behind him. The clipboard clattered to the floor. Two seconds later he heard the wind of her leg rushing up, gasped and quickly looked under himself to see it smash his balls flat as pancakes into his crotch. The rear of his cage popped five inches off the floor and he barked a guttural yelp as it crashed down. If Flynn had been able to back away from her, he would have. In terror. He was quite certain he would never have had the power to lift one of those iron cages with a man's weight in it that high that easily.

David Andersen's nuts had drawn up tight against his pelvis and his dick had gotten hard because he was a sadist and had been thoroughly enjoying the sounds of torture. Sadists can't help this. Even if they know certainly that their turn is coming terrifyingly soon, the enjoyment is still there. And because David Andersen's nuts were not hanging loose, his left one had just fractured. It wasn't completely ruptured, but it would be in a moment. The fracture was a minor tear on the outside of the testicular wall, and the instant his cage crashed to the floor, his yelp rose like a siren from bass smoothly to a full-chest soprano, not falsetto. That was so far out of his range that the siren quickly tore into a strident, bawling screech, and now Cassandra knew what David Andersen had just learned.

He gasped and screeched and gasped and screeched. Then his mouth was forced shut. She held it with her right hand under his chin and her left on his head and snot blasted from his nose as he continued that jagged screech with his eyes clenched. It sounded almost like a distant train whistle. His face was already scarlet. "That was my left! My left leg is my weak leg, fucko!! Here's my right!!" She let go and the screech filled the room again. David Andersen had strong abs and big lungs. It was painful in Flynn's ears at first, but slowly softened. That was not because David Andersen's voice was weakening but because Flynn's ears were ringing.

He watched her right leg snap forward and it was the most perfectly performed kick he had ever seen, a thing of beauty. The contact of her foot with his balls was louder than his screaming and Flynn briefly spotted blood between her foot and his balls. They flattened completely across his crotch from thigh to thigh, Flynn saw Andersen's head fly up, and then bore witness to the most awe-inspiring, terrifying display of brute, savage strength he would ever see in his life. The rear of the cage lifted off the floor, but did not fall back. It rose and rose and Flynn's eyes and mouth widened and widened, and it settled, rocking back and forth once each on its end. David Andersen was now shackled in a sling upside down, screaming directly at the floor. Cassandra lowered her leg without even losing her balance in the slightest.

Both Flynn and the man to Andersen's left shouted, "Holy shit!" but could barely hear their own voices over his screaming.

She didn't pause. She turned and Flynn watched her go by without looking at him, tits bouncing, hair flying. David Andersen's scream was actually writhing the same way he was in his bonds. Flynn could hear the way the agony was exploding from his balls into his guts and his voice rose and wavered as the agony swirled and ground and chewed away in his balls and belly. Cassandra reappeared carrying a round wood paddle about the size of a large frying pan and a roll of clear tape. She took the chair around between Andersen's and the next man's cages. His upended ass was now at eye-level. She yanked his balls up behind him and there was blood all over them. His ragged, strident scream was only interrupted by quick gasps. She drew a length of tape across his ass from hip to hip behind his sack, pressed it down and tossed the tape back toward Flynn. David Andersen's balls were now resting on the center of his ass.

She stood in the chair and his ass was now at waist-level. She raised the paddle over her head with both hands like an axe. John Fulp could see both of them and he wasn't crying anymore. Tears dripped from his eyes but he didn't blink. He watched with the same incredulous terror all over Flynn's face. The look on hers was livid rage, her lips snarled back from clenched teeth. She brought the paddle down and the thunderclap was so loud every man in the room except Steve Alexander and David Andersen tried to cover his ears but they couldn't.

She didn't wait. She raised the paddle again and the men still could not hear David Andersen's screeching bellow in the single-second intervals between spanks. She brought it down as hard as she possibly could, raised and brought it down. Flynn grunted as he shied and blinked his eyes. Again and again, with only a second between them, she unleashed Hell on David Andersen's already ruptured balls with thunderous, deafening smacks flat against his ass. John Fulp and the man on Andersen's other side could not hear him. Only the paddle bashing his balls and ass, but they could see his face, and they watched him jerking his head in every direction, trying frantically to get away, to protect his nuts, jolting at each smack, both lips sucked over his teeth. Then his mouth changed to a look of surprise. Spit streamed to a bubbly puddle and he flexed tight all over. They saw every cord and blood vessel strain out of his neck and he vomited a full stomachful of food directly into the drain. He vomited again without a pause. Then he dry heaved almost in time to the paddle smashing against him.

There were seven separate thunderclaps resounding throughout the room at any one time. Then she stopped. It took four seconds for the echoes to die away. David Andersen wasn't screaming anymore. He was mewling and retching stomach acid. He sounded like a broken animal whining for death. She grabbed his balls and looked them over. Blood had splatted across his entire ass. His shuddering got no worse. Flynn now knew his ears were ringing. He couldn't be sure before. The walls of this room were metal and every sound he heard was percussively raucous.

She shook her head and snarled, "Not yet, David Andersen!" then brought the paddle up with frenzious, bloodthirsty murder dazzling in her eyes and Flynn grimaced for David Andersen's sake as she brought it down. He would have put his hand to his mouth if he could have. She smashed the paddle flat against his balls and ass eleven more times. The eleventh crash shattered David Andersen's balls into pieces that sprayed forty feet in every direction. Blood spattered Cassandra. Flynn saw something fly at him and it stuck to his chest. He now knew what he was looking at. It was the light orange insides of a testicle and it smeared red as it slid down into his hair. His chin quivered and he had to catch his breath as he looked up. At that moment David Andersen's bowels released in a brown geyser straight up and down all over him.

Cassandra stepped down, her fluffy mane of hair disheveled across her face, picked up the chair, flipped her hair out of her eyes and padded out breathing fast and deep toward Flynn. John Fulp threw up. She turned to him, watched him puke again, then looked at the blood sprayed on the wall beyond him. She held up the bloody paddle and flipped it. The other side was fairly clean.

Then she started laughing. Wildly. Full-voiced and bright with merriment. She looked beautiful doing it as she bent over facing Flynn and put her hands on her knees to keep from falling over. Flynn Fitzherbert's 9-inch dick began to plump. He looked down at it, then back to her. It was plumping and lengthening. Cassandra caught her breath, spat, laughed a little more and then half-turned and said, "How do they feel, Davey?" David Andersen was barely breathing. He was coughing weakly, gagging, and dragging in sips of air. The agony had flooded his entire abdomen and reached his diaphragm. His heart still beat at 150 and was now falling thanks to the drugs he had been given. His brain still worked perfectly in one regard. It was wailing at him that he was feeling more pain than any human male had ever felt at one time. It was telling him his balls had just been blasted apart, that his ass was blistered, and his tail bone was shattered.

She turned and said, "Anyone else wanna mouth off?" She listened to their breathing. She had filled the room with panicking terror and shook out a clotted, curdly chuckle. She limply dropped the paddle to the floor at her right foot. "David Andersen," she said without turning to look at him. She started walking past Flynn. "In that position, you will not bleed to death for about 20 to 25 minutes." She passed Flynn. Besides the blood there was orange ball meat and blue-white chunks of tunica albuginea spackled all over her legs, abs, tits. She flicked something from her left cheek. "I will not put your balls out of your misery..." She growled and it burbled with the thick slime in her throat, "Until then!"

Full story with illustrations here

Contains: >!circumcision humiliation, rupture, castration, mommy roleplay!< Melody Seduces a Virgin — Part 1 of 2 · Meet Cute, Cute Meat

Ryan sat at the counter of the pub, fidgeting awkwardly as he nursed his pint. He was aware of how to flirt, theoretically. He'd read books and advice online walking him through his many shortcomings and failures and weak spots and strong spots. The issue had been putting any of it into practice.

At 27 years old, he was depressingly inexperienced. He’d tried everything. Self help, therapy, liquid courage — nothing seemed to get him any closer to even a single date, let alone that distant, fantastical goal of the touch of a real woman. He’d never so much as kissed one, despite everything he tried.

He crossed his legs in discomfort from the painful effects of his current effort at self-improvement. “Seminal retention” was supposed to give him some kind of super confidence, animal magnetism and “thoughtform attractiveness” — whatever that meant — but all the four weeks of abstinence had given him so far was an incredibly sore, full set of blue balls, and the complete inability to focus on anything but the women around him. As it turned out, women didn’t find a drooling, leering pervert any more appealing than the shy, mumbling soft boy he’d been when he was still emptying his balls regularly.

A couple of drunk girls walked by, short skirts swishing around pale flesh, and he caught a whiff of their pheromones. He groaned and spread his legs apart more, his cock throbbing just from the thought of viable pussy so tantalisingly close yet out of reach. He manspread shamelessly on the pub stool to relieve some of the pressure in the throbbing, purple plums as his cock tented his trousers and drooled the tiniest drop of precum inside his underwear.

Still, if this discomfort actually landed him sex — like, real pussy, on a real woman, instead of his lube-slick hand for the billionth time — it was worth it. Anything was worth that, at this point. Ryan was desperate. He dreaded turning 30 without experiencing that one basic, eternal human comfort. Everyone he’d known had lost their virginity years ago — and while his friends never mocked him for it, he could tell from the sidelong glances and subtle questioning they were beginning to wonder if he’d ever find a romantic partner, female or otherwise.

He just needed to find a woman he could talk to. He scanned the room gloomily, looking for a woman he didn’t find too intimidating to talk to, and found himself coming up short. A well-dressed older American woman was sitting alone, vastly beautiful and definitely out of his league. Some drunk uni girls looked like they were having a fun night and were low on inhibitions, but the thought of approaching four girls at once made him queasy. Two women sat with their boyfriends. Another girl was sipping her whiskey and swiping idly on her phone, obviously not wanting to be bugged. Was this seriously how he was supposed to meet someone?

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Ryan blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing.

“Hello?”

There was no way she was real. Or rather, there was no way that the American woman had got out of her booth, walked up to him, and stood before him offering to buy him a drink. Her generous cleavage filled out her tight black dress and then some, deliciously squeezed tightly and bursting out above the low cut of her dress. Two subtle but unmistakable points helpfully informed Ryan she was braless. Dirty blonde hair covered her bare shoulders, and she was smiling hungrily at him, like a pet shop customer who’d just seen the kitten they wanted to take home.

He crossed his legs in a futile attempt to hide his boner. She stared brazenly, then met his eyes and grinned.

Ryan tried to think of anything intelligent to say. He failed.

“I…already have a drink.” LITERALLY the stupidest possible thing. How could he fuck up something as easy as this?

She blinked, confused, but shrugged it off. “Well, I don’t. What are you buying me?”

He stammered and ordered something random from the bartender. She didn’t seem to notice or care what it was, paying the man without taking her eyes off his crotch.

“Do you…come here often?” he sputtered like an idiot.

She laughed. “No, not really. I’m from out of town. Way out of town, actually. I just flew to England for a little vacation. Er, a holiday.” She smiled at him, and he practically melted into his seat.

“My son just headed off to college — or, uh, uni as y’all call it — and I have the house to myself for the first time in years. I’d always wanted to see England.”

At that, Ryan knew there had to be divine intervention involved here. No tourist flew across the Atlantic fucking ocean for the chance to see this nothing town in the middle of nowhere, an hour from London or any interesting civilisation. He couldn’t figure it out, and it didn’t matter. Her hand was on his thigh. Touching him. Physically.

He throbbed against his jeans, and he knew her hand was close enough to feel the fabric move.

“Do you?”

“Um…Do I what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come a lot.”

He stared at her.

“Come here often? Since you live nearby, presumably?”

“Oh! Yeah, I just…Yeah, no I mean. I don’t come. I mean, I don’t come to this pub — I usually, uh. Just stay home.”

“Are you having trouble hearing me, cutie?” He definitely couldn’t have heard that right.

“Sorry! Sorry. It’s so noisy in here.”

“Want to find something more private?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Ryan nodded to an empty booth in the corner. “Can we talk over there?”

Her hand abruptly moved lower, and he gasped.

“I was thinking something much more private.” She leaned in close enough for him to smell her perfume. Her hand continued wandering, sliding under his waistband, and down until…

She touched him. He felt it like an electric shock, the first touch of a woman on his dick. She smiled satisfiedly at him as he went silent, trying his best to keep himself under control. Her hand drifted even lower and wrapped around his balls. The mysterious, nameless woman rolled them around, just firm enough to elicit the tiniest twinge of pain, deliciously hefting his manhood and sizing him up. Ryan felt like a piece of meat, but his cock quivered above her probing hand, drooling precum. Should he apologize for making a mess on her? She definitely didn’t seem to mind, and there was no way she was missing the globs of clear, sticky man-sap he was covering her hand and the inside of his underwear with.

“My apartment isn’t too far.” She giggled. “Sorry, my flat.”

She squeezed her own handful flat, and Ryan gasped in pain. Her eyes widened.

“Oops! I’m really sorry. Thought I had your cock there. Er, sorry, your todger.”

Ryan’s eyes watered but he tried to stay cool. “We…we say cock here too. It’s ok! Just an accident, ma’am.” Stupid. He addressed her like she was a teacher or his mum, not a potential girlfriend.

“Yeah, of course.” She grinned. “And what’s your name, sweetie?”

“Ryan.” He hadn’t even fucking asked her name yet. “Um. And you, ma’am? I mean, miss?”

“Ma’am works fine, Ryan. I’m Melody.”

---

Ryan

On their Uber to her city-centre flat, Melody repeatedly apologized to Ryan for the humbleness of her place. Ryan nodded shakily, figuring her AirBnB couldn’t be worse than his studio flat. He wasn’t thinking too focused on that at all, to be honest. She was still idly playing with his cock and balls in the back of the cab. Her hand would drift up his cock, circling the head and milking out a thick glob of precum, leaving him right on the edge before pulling away.

Occasionally she’d drift lower and fondle his testicles, rolling them gently but firmly back and forth, which sent a chill up his spine. She didn't accidentally squeeze him again, but some sixth sense seemed to tell him his plums were in mortal danger every time her hand circled them.

It was just nervousness at getting to lose his virginity, of course. He just needed to get over it. He moaned as her thumb traced back up the bottom of his cock, probing inquisitively into the bottom of his cockhead.

“Oh.” Melody sounded slightly disappointed. “Are you cut, Ryan?”

He winced and nodded.

“I thought they didn’t circumcise over here.”

“They don’t. When I was 20, the doctor said I had a medical issue – it was too tight, or something — and I had to get it cut.”

“Wow.” She unzipped his trousers and flopped his cock out.

“Melody!”

“Oh, relax. The driver can’t see back here.” She circled his cock head with her hand, swirling his precum around for lube. “Very high and tight, isn’t it? I figured most guys would’ve gotten it low and loose, if they could choose.” Her thumb probed into the bottom of his cockhead, and she gasped.

“And you had them take out your frenulum, too?”

“No,” he said bitterly, “I didn’t. I’d wanted it low, and loose, and I’d specifically discussed with the doctor to make sure she wouldn’t cut my frenulum off. I hadn’t been with a girl — at that point — but I’d…I mean, I’d masturbated, and I knew those bits felt really good, and read online about how I’d lose all this sensation if she cut them off.”

“But my step-mum was with me, and after anaesthesia, she talked to the surgeon again. Made some specific alterations so they’d gouge all of that away, I guess, and stretch it super drum tight so I’d have as little foreskin and sensation left as possible. When I asked her about it after, she just shrugged and said that was how circumcisions were supposed to be. Like she’d never even heard of it any other way, or even given it a second thought.”

“Oh Ryan. You poor boy.” She swirled her palm around his bare, numbed cockhead. “She really did you a favor though, you know.”

“She took away all the best parts.”

“You’re still plenty sensitive, boy. Look at how twitchy you are.” She squeezed tight, and he arched his back so hard he lifted off the seat. Another giant splurt of precum coated her hand. “You’d probably have blown your load by now if you’d gotten cut your way.”

“Ahh! I suppose so — oh god!”

“See? Mom always knows best.” She grinned. “Wouldn’t you rather last long enough to get inside me?”

“Ok, ok, ok ok ok.” He hyperventilated as she mercilessly teased him to the edge, letting go of his bare dick right before he actually blew his load.

“You want that, don’t you? You’re going to hold your cum back until I say, right?” Ryan frantically nodded.

“Yes Melody — oh god. Please…please go easier.”

“I’m going to do exactly as I please with you, Ryan. Trust me. I know my way around a full pair of balls.” The driver pulled to a stop in front of a very expensive looking block of flats.

“Ok.”

“Good boy. Look, we’re here.” Melody unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out of the car, leaving him to awkwardly tuck his leaky, quivering member back into his jeans before the Uber driver noticed.

---

Ryan gawped at the “humble” lodgings. He’d been expecting an AirBNB, not one of these posh modern flats. The place looked like something out of a magazine, with sharp lines, glass surfaces, and furniture that seemed more like art than something you were allowed to sit on.

“I know it isn’t much, but it was as nice as I could find on short notice. This whole trip to England was pretty last minute. Before he moved out, my son and I had a sort of…falling out, near the end of his senior year, and we haven’t been talking, really. I was lonely, and just wanted an adventure. And to find someone to keep me, you know…A little less lonely.”

“Of course! I…I can do that.” His cock tented his jeans again. She laughed.

“I’m sure you can. You can take your boxers off, Ryan. I can tell you’re a little uncomfortable there.”

“Um.” He frowned. “Aren’t you going to get undressed too?”

“When I’m ready, boy. Let’s take it one step at a time. Do you want a drink?” Without waiting for his response, she opened a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. She held them and stared at him expectantly, arching an eyebrow.

“Come on, Ryan. I spent the whole ride here playing with your cock. It’s hardly the time to be shy now, is it? Show mommy what you’re packing down there.”

As excited as he was for this, this wasn’t quite how he’d pictured it. Certainly, he hadn’t expected losing his virginity to make him feel so small. He pulled his trousers down, then took a deep breath and flopped his briefs down as well. His cock caught on the elastic band as it went down and flipped up, spattering himself with clear drops of prejaculate.

Melody grinned wolfishly. “Gorgeous. It’s so smooth and shiny. Most American guys don’t get theirs cut that tightly, but girls always prefer it when it’s snipped as cleanly as possible. You really are lucky, Ryan. Even if you’re not quite as big as some other guys.”

“I’m not small,” he said defensively. Melody shrugged.

“Well, you’re not tiny. I’ve certainly seen bigger, though. Have a seat. Spread your legs apart so I can really take a look at you.”

He took a seat at the end of the loveseat, and reluctantly spread his legs apart. His balls slid out and rolled onto the cold leather. His cock bobbed eagerly above, stretched tight and shiny bare, precum dribbling down its smooth underside.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” she purred. “How long have you been filling them up, Ryan?”

He blinked. “Uh, what?”

“Your balls, Ryan. They’re clearly very full. They’re so tight, and almost purple. Has it been three weeks since you had a release?” She grinned. “Come on, you can tell me. How long since you’ve had sex, Ryan? Who was the last lucky girl to drain those plums dry?”

“Um.” He coughed. He’d expected tonight’s activities to be more focused on his dick, but at least she wasn’t implying he was too small for her anymore.

“It’s been four weeks since I’ve…released, I guess. And…I’ve never been with a girl before.”

Melody stopped short. “Wait. Seriously? How old are you?”

He blushed. “27, ma’am. But I’ve never really found the right person. You know, it’s hard —”

“Oh, but the American MILF who groped you in the bar is your soulmate?” She chuckled.

“It’s ok, Ryan. You’ve been trying to lose your virginity for a while, haven’t you?”

“...yeah, I have. Just haven’t had much luck. If you want someone more experienced, I understand.”

“Oh Ryan, nothing is further from the truth. Do you know how lucky I am? Two swollen balls, packed tight full of cum, attached to a totally inexperienced guy, who’s just desperate for my touch…You are absolutely perfect.”

“I mean, I could tell you weren’t the most macho man in the world, even back in the pub. I didn’t realize just how wimpy you were.” He whimpered.

“I’m not a wimp.”

“We’ll see about that, sweetie. But it’s ok. I don’t need some big, hung manly man tonight. I need someone I can play with, and use, and do anything I want to. Someone I can teach about all the stuff I like in bed, who’s not going to pout or cry or tell me no. Are you going to tell me no tonight, Ryan?”

“No. I mean, uh…I’ll agree to everything. I promise.”

She laughed. “Good boy. Here, have some wine.”

---

As Melody sauntered over to her victim, she reminisced over the last year.

One year since that fateful month. One year since she’d felt Malcolm’s testicle explode beneath her thumb. One year since visiting her own son in the recovery ward, his legs splayed wide apart in the stirrups to give her a clear view at his empty scrotum. One year since she’d had to deal with the reality that she’d never get grandchildren, and watch her only son’s manhood slowly shrivel up day after day as his testosterone left him permanently.

Life at home had been awkward after that. Robert hadn’t wanted much to do with her, even through all of her apologies. She couldn’t blame him, really; watching your own mom masturbate while you’re screaming in pain from your last ruptured testicle had to take a toll on any guy. Feeling your own final drops of semen leak out, knowing you’ll never have any sexual pleasure for the rest of your life, while the one woman who was supposed to protect you was shaking from the pleasure of watching would hurt any boy.

And on top of that, she hadn’t been able to resist Malcolm. At first she’d tried to keep her trysts with her son’s one-nutted friend stealthy, but it was impossible; Melody had never been able to keep herself quiet during a good orgasm, and Malcolm provided plenty. She knew she should be a little more sympathetic to her eunuch son’s plight, but the uniball boy was just so irresistible. His throbbing cock filled her hungry pussy so perfectly, and the remainder of his manhood made for a fantastic stress toy before, during, and after their hookups.

For foreplay, she’d slam a cheeky knee into Malcolm’s crotch until he was wheezing. During sex, she’d use it like a handhold, pulling as hard as she could to speed him up or crushing his nut pancake-flat when she wanted him to slow down. Afterwards, she’d lay next to the quivering, crying boy, softly probing the organ, luxuriating in whatever new damage she’d inflicted, pressing him into her bosom when her thumb sank into a particularly bruised patch of gonad meat. Malcolm proved that a boy could be just as fun with a half empty sack as a full one. Their trysts were stimulating enough to keep Melody distracted from her son’s loud sobbing in the room next door.

But eventually, Robert went off to college, and Melody found herself hungry again, in a way she hadn’t been for years. His castration had reawakened something insatiable inside of her, and torturing Malcolm’s last nut only staved it off without providing her the satisfaction she really needed.

Melody craved castration. She needed it like she needed air or water.

The sleepy town in the middle of the English countryside provided a perfect hunting ground for her. Thousands of miles away, nobody knew who she was, and nobody would be able to track her down when she’d finished with her victim. And Ryan was truly the perfect victim, even more so than she’d expected. She’d sized him up as a single, sexually frustrated young man with an inferiority complex from across the room, but she hadn’t realized just how true that was.

Four weeks of blueballing and a lifetime of virginity. Roiling, cum-packed blueballs attached to a weak-willed boy who melted in her hand. He even bore a passing resemblance to her son. After decades of abstention and self-control from her urge to neuter any and every healthy man she knew, he was the perfect victim to finally indulge in.

He was sitting on her couch, his lovely balls puddled out between his legs, the constant stream of precum from his modest erection pooling in the dimple between his scrotum and his member. Ryan looked up at her like a scared puppy, nervous but eager. She walked over with both glasses of wine, smirking, and ‘tripped’.

Melody was well experienced in this exact ‘accident’ by now. Expertly turning to avoid spilling any of the expensive vintage, she fell forward into his lap, her left knee extended. With his legs spread apart and his balls as large as they were, she couldn’t have missed his package if she tried. His testicles were extremely full, but still had enough give to flatten beneath her weight. The virgin let out a faint wheeze as she collapsed into him, pinning all of her weight onto his left ball.

“Oops.” The boy looked up at her in disbelief, and she met his eyes. Then she rolled her weight to the right side, flattening the other half of his manhood. Wriggling her weight back and forth on his privates, she enjoyed the look of confusion starting to set in.

“Melody — FUCK! You got me in the balls.”

“Sorry sweetie. I didn’t realize. I can just be so klutzy.” She rolled back and forth, steamrolling his balls as flat as she could, before appearing to get up — right before pulling her knee back again and slamming it into his crotch.

“It’s an accident. I swear.” She pulled her knee back again and — crunch.

“Accident?!” He squeaked.

“Yes. Totally an accident.” Thump, CRUNCH.

“STOP!” She pulled her knee away and stood up, allowing Ryan to fall over onto the loveseat, hands stuffed between his thighs.

“Is this…what is this? What are you doing?”

“I’m just clumsy, Ryan.”

“You kneed me in the balls, twice. Obviously intentionally. Please, I thought we were going to…”

“Thought we were going to what, Ryan?” She leaned over him, allowing her breasts to nearly spill out of her tight black dress. Despite his pain, his eyes were drawn to the swath of milky-white flesh she presented him.

“Did you want to go inside me, boy? Feel mommy’s tight pussy around you? Make me cum all over you?”

He nodded frantically.

“Well, we can still do that. But I admit, those hits weren’t accidental. I just have a little kink, you know? I like hurting boys in the bollocks. Or, the goolies. That’s what you call them here, right?”

“...Yeah. But we usually just say balls.”

“Sure. Balls then, love. I love hurting balls. I can admit that now. I used to be embarrassed, but I’ve gotten comfortable with my kinks, and that’s my biggest one. And you said you’d do everything I wanted tonight. I promise, I’ll let you inside of me, and I’ll let you make me cum. But you have to let me have my fun as well, right?”

He looked confused. “I mean…is this…foreplay? I…I’ve watched porn. They never do any of this stuff. It’s mostly like, dick sucking, and…touching lightly, and….nothing painful.”

“This isn’t porn, Ryan,” she said seriously. “I’m a real woman, with real needs. And real sex is about giving as well as taking. You can give me what I want, right?”

“I don’t know…”

She lifted her leg in front of his face and saw his eyes grow wide. She hadn’t worn panties that night; Ryan looked straight ahead at what would’ve been the first pussy he’d seen in his life.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise. You can endure a little pain for the chance to get inside my pussy, right Ryan?”

Melody could see the resistance visibly drain out of him as his balls overrode his common sense.

“You’re not going to…do any permanent damage, right?”

“Of course not. I promise, I won’t pop anything,” Melody lied. God, this was going to be easy. Her knee was still up in the air, giving him a view of her pussy.

“Ok. As long as you don’t go too hard. I really want to have kids some day, and I’ve heard —”

She brought her heel down, slamming it between his legs and crushing his balls against the stiff couch beneath. Ryan hunched over, hugging and pawing at her shin and her thigh, desperately trying to ease the pressure. Melody just leaned forward, putting more and more weight onto his nuts, twisting her shoe slowly. She could feel the organs starting to flatten, and she knew the intense pressure and inexorable twisting motion would soften and untangle the tightly knotted tubules inside, allowing them to break apart more beneath her.

---

Ryan’s head lolled back and he gagged with pain. His eyes were watering so much he could barely see, but he struggled to keep them open so he could keep staring at that beautiful, subtle cleft beneath her skirt. He could feel Melody grinding his balls back and forth, and he started to get scared she’d accidentally rupture something.

But she promised. She’d absolutely promised she wouldn’t pop them. He reminded himself of that as she put more and more pressure onto his tender bollocks. The older woman was obviously very experienced at this kind of foreplay, whatever it was. He trusted she wouldn’t go too far.

But god he couldn’t wait for the main event. The pain was staggering. After an eternity, she lifted her foot up, looking both satisfied and disappointed with him.

“You really withstood that, hm? Still feeling up for more?”

If more meant more ballcrushing, he was not. “More…what?”

“More foreplay, sweetie.” His reaction answered for him.

“Oh, we can do something a little less painful. Come on, lay back. On the couch.”

“What…what are you going to do to me?”

“Relax. I’ll give your nuts a break for a second.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you don’t want to taste my pussy?”

That was what he’d been expecting foreplay to be. Without another word, he rolled over onto the couch and laid back. Melody straddled him, pinning him in place. He could smell her pussy, and felt it dripping onto his chin.

“This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to please mommy? You’ve done a great job tonight, cutie. I’ve loved crushing your balls so far. It’s hard to explain, but some boys have a pair that’s just made to be crushed. Like, some are really small, or really hard, or way too big, or dangle too low or are packed too tightly to get a grip on. But yours are perfect, Ryan.”

“Um. Oh.”

“They fit perfectly in my hand. They have just enough give that I can really feel them deform when I’m pressing down, but they’re sturdy enough I know they’re still fully functional. You know, if you bust a pair too much, they can actually lose a lot of their functionality even before they pop. They get loose and pliable and all mushy, and you can just tell the guy’s already sterile even though he’s got a full sack. But yours are going to stay super fertile for a long time, I can tell. Trust me, Ryan, these are every girl’s favorite type of nuts to crack.”

“...Thanks.” He wasn’t sure he enjoyed that particular compliment. And he definitely didn’t enjoy how detailed she was about ‘losing functionality’. Still, he knew this had to just be some kind of BDSM-power play she got off on.

He could feel her pussy getting wet, girl drool slicking against his skin. She leaned back and slid herself closer to his lips, then finally settled on top. Her pussy lips and hair and clit filled his view beneath her black skirt. She still hadn’t undressed.

“Ryan, sweetie. I know you’re new to this, but you can’t be that naive.” She grabbed his head and pushed him forward. “Stick your tongue out and taste me. Now, boy.”

His tongue flicked forward tentatively and found her clit.

“Good start, but go harder. Now.” She slapped behind her without looking, perfectly landing her hand on his bruised balls. Ryan cried out, but her cunt smothered him. He’d been hoping the ball torture part of the night had finished up, but he was starting to suspect that testicle pain never really ended with Melody. She slapped him again, hard, and he started to speed up in the hopes enough pleasure would distract her from his nuts.

“Oh, Ryan. Honey…You’re doing so good. Push your tongue in more, baby, that’s just what mommy needs.” She leaned back and groaned, grabbing both his balls in her hand and squeezing them gently. He licked hard and harder, and she rewarded him with a face full of girlcum. Unfortunately, as her pleasure grew, so did her pressure. By the time he’d licked her obediently to the edge of her climax, he could feel his balls squishing out around her nails, her white-knuckled fists trembling with the strength she exerted.

“Right there, yes! Go in as far as you can, sweetie, it won’t bite. Ungh. You’re doing…you’re doing so good. I’m going to…Mommy’s going to…” Melody’s words devolved into unintelligible gasping.

Then she took a really deep breath, and threw her head back. A torrent of wetness filled his mouth.

“OH GOD! MOMMY’S CUMMING!” Melody gushed all over his face. She stopped increasing the pressure on his bollocks but didn’t relax it at all, and as she bucked and spasmed, she mindlessly pulled them far away from him. He tried to scream and beg for her to stop, slapping her thighs at an attempt to communicate how distressingly close his nutcords were to snapping, but Melody was deep in the throes of her orgasm and didn’t seem to notice.

Finally, she finished. Sagging forward, she let go of his manhood at last. He curled his knees up instinctually, sobbing.

“Aww, did I hurt you, Ryan?” He nodded into her pussy.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I went pretty hard on your plums. You were just doing such a good job licking my pussy. You’re really a natural at it, you know. Do you want me to make it up to you?” He nodded again.

She wriggled down his body, her pussy leaving a trail of wetness on his chest. He nearly came when she slid over his dick, spurting his own streak of precum onto her, but groaned when she kept sliding down until she was between his knees. She held his quivering cock in one hand, barely touching it, like it was a loaded gun she was afraid would go off at any moment.

“Wow. You’re right on the edge, aren’t you?” He nodded frantically.

“I bet if your real mommy hadn’t snipped and shaved you so cleanly, you’d be so sensitive you’d cum just from me touching you right now.” She moved her mouth closer, and his heartbeat sped up. He could feel her breath on his cockhead. It felt cool against the dampness of his constantly leaking precum. “You really are lucky she clipped so much off.”

“Oh god. Melody, please!”

She kissed him right where his frenulum would’ve been. He bucked upwards and groaned, desperately trying to get more stimulation, but she pulled her head fast enough to avoid him slipping between her lips.

“Bad boy.” She swatted his testicles, and he groaned.

“Please, Melody, no more, I can’t —”

She leaned forward and engulfed his bellend with her mouth.

---

Melody swirled her tongue around Ryan’s bare cockhead, poking inside and sucking as much precum out as she could. Getting his entire cock in her mouth was no challenge, but keeping him right on the edge was much more difficult. She knew the second he came, she’d lose her grip over him, and he’d start fighting back for real. Already he was nearly complaining from the pain. That wouldn’t do at all; she needed to lure him with a bit more pleasure to keep him under her thumb. Threading the needle between intense pleasure and a climactic release was hard when he was this pent up.

Another spurt of precum shot down her throat and she slid off his dick just in time. He’d stopped complaining about his balls, which was a good sign he was getting too close to the edge. She punched him in the nuts to bring him back away from it. He groaned, his cock wilting just a bit, and she leaned forward again and licked him back to the brink.

Over and over, she repeated this; suckling and stroking just until he was about to explode, then busting his swollen purple balls until he was a safe distance from cumming. By the eighth iteration of this pain/pleasure cycle, she could see his brain starting to break. Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot and teary, and he could barely speak.

“Are you ready for more foreplay, Ryan? I’ve given you enough pleasure, right, love?” His mouth moved silently in response. Melody took that for assent.

“I’d like to stomp on them, full force. I’ve got these high heels that are going to be so fun, and if you could just lay on the ground with your legs spread —”

“NO!” he shouted so loud she jumped.

“This…this isn’t what I came here for. I’m sorry, Melody. I can’t do this. This is too much for me. You’re…you’re so beautiful, and just…I thought I could endure the pain for a chance with you. But I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just wanted to know what normal sex felt like, and I know you said you wouldn’t do any permanent damage, but I swear it feels like something is wrong inside my balls, and I just…it’s too much. And I’m not your son. Stop calling yourself ‘mummy’”.

Melody’s stomach sank. She could feel her chance to neuter him slipping through her fingers. Ryan rolled off the couch, groaning as he hit the floor on all fours. He tried to stand up but fell back down, crippled from the pain. Failing that, he crawled on all fours towards his trousers, his thighs still clutched together, his bloated balls sticking out behind him.

They made the perfect target.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Ryan.” He didn’t respond.

“I just…don’t think we’re quite finished yet.”

Melody wound her leg back and kicked him as hard as she could, perfectly aiming her toe directly into the back of his left nut. She could feel it actually crunch this time as it flattened against his pelvic bone. Ryan had definitely been wrong when he said she’d caused permanent damage, before; she had actually kept his balls perfectly intact up until now. But this blow was definitely hard enough to dislodge some sperm count from his unused blue balls.

Her next kick caught the right one.

Ryan

When he started crawling forward, Ryan had thought he’d passed the apex of pain any man could possibly feel. When he heard the crunch between his legs, he realised how wrong he was. He flopped onto the floor at her second kick, trying to curl up to protect himself, but she put her foot on his back and pressed him flat, his balls still trapped between his legs. Then she lifted her heel up and stomped down hard on the trapped, bloated package.

Another louder, wetter crunch echoed out. He tried not to throw up.

“You’d promised you’d agree to everything tonight, Ryan.” Another stomp. Another CRUNCH.

“I’m very disappointed to hear otherwise. I hate when boys break promises to me.” CRUNCH.

“I would’ve let you keep both of them, you know. But if you’re going to act up like this, I’ll need to break my own promise.” CRUNCH

Her promise. Ryan searched his brain for what it was. Her promise to have sex with him?

No.

Her promise NOT TO POP HIS NUTS.

“No. God, please no!” He frantically tried to get up, but she pressed her foot onto his scrotum, pinning him to the floor. He could feel her rolling his nuts around, assessing them, probing them for weaknesses.

“Yes, Ryan. You’ve just been so disobedient. I find boys are much more obedient with a little less…pep, in their system. About half as much, to be specific.”

“Melody, please…” His voice had dwindled to a squeak.

“Ryan. I’ve made up my mind. Now tell me: Which testicle do you want to lose?”

He sobbed, terrified.

“The right one is definitely larger, but I think the left one is still healthier — it feels a lot less mushy. So, which one will it be? I’ll let you choose.”

“NEITHER! Please, neither!”

She sighed. “Ok. Take a deep breath and say goodbye to leftie then, honey. I’ve been told this really hurts.”

“No! Please, god, NO! You promised! You promised, Melody, please! PLEASE!”

She leaned forward, putting the entirety of her weight onto her toe, pressing his ball against the floor. His face pressed against the cool hardwood. His brain focused on the stupidest detail, as if distraction would save him from the pain. Was it oak? Mahogany? Something expensive, no doubt. Maybe —

Pop

He blacked out.

---

Melody’s heel abruptly slammed against the floor as Ryan’s ball exploded beneath it and he lost consciousness. The sight of his eyes rolled back and his mouth foaming over in pain was very sexy, but more beautiful than that was the contents of his scrotum beneath her heel. His ball had shattered into several distinct, but definitively non-functional chunks. Probing the shattered mess, she finally couldn’t hold back any more.

Breathing hard, she stripped her dress off as fast as she could, keeping his broken ball pinned beneath her. Her hands found her clit and she rubbed furiously, wiggling back and forth on top of his broken ball, grinding chunks of nutmeat into nutmush and stimulating herself, lifting her other foot to put even more weight to fully liquify the former gonad until —

“GUH!” With a primal, undignified howl, she sprayed her orgasm all over the naked comatose boy, one leg raised up high, her other trembling hard as she came. Cumming on his face had been fun, but there was something about orgasming when she didn’t feel the need to stay sexy for a man, and could just let loose. She felt one final errant chunk of nutmeat give way—

“AAAAH! Oh GOD that feels good. Holy fuck. Holy shit.”

Her third orgasm of the night started before she finished the second one. She cried out as it hit her, pressing her fingers into her clit as hard as she could. She knew her makeup was smeared and her hair was a mess; she couldn’t care less. She could drop the loving mommy persona now that her boy wasn’t watching.

Finally finished, her thighs and hands dripping with her cum, she stepped back and admired her work. Ryan’s larger ball was indeed still mostly intact, but nothing remained of his left one but a limp, empty scrotum. As she returned to her senses, she remembered something she’d tried to put out of her mind. Something that horrified her to her core. She nearly fainted at the thought of...

Her deposit. Her ludicrously expensive deposit on this gorgeous apartment with its gorgeous floors.

Recalling with dread how she’d had to refinish her own hardwood floor to get the stain from Malcolm’s testicular remnants out, she flipped Ryan over, expecting to see half of his four weeks of cum, along with the remains of his testicle, seeping into the floorboards. But somehow, against all odds, her virgin had resisted that irrational urge all boys seem to have to blow a final load from a busted ball. She nearly cried from relief. His cock still pointed up above his half-full sack, bobbing and drooling and gloriously, beautifully unrelieved of even a drop of his pent-up semen.

Still, she couldn’t trust he’d keep himself clean when she popped his other nut. Dragging him to her bedroom, she splayed him on the sumptuous mattress and tied each limb to a post, tugging them to make sure he couldn’t wriggle free. Ryan was still totally out of it.

His ball hung below his smooth, drum-tight cock. The surgeon had really done a great job on him; every possible extra nerve had been sliced away smoothly. Whoever she was (Melody was sure it was a woman; no man would’ve circumcised him so thoroughly) had circumcised him so tightly, even his ballsack was pulled up tight along his shaft; although with half its contents now liquified, it was decidedly less taut than before. His solo testicle jutted out prominently against the modest mast above, plump and healthy and quivering as if it was scared of her. As it should be.

It was huge. Almost as huge as some of her toys back home. Actually, it was exactly the same size and shape as one of her love eggs.

Inspiration struck her.

The door ratcheted open with a long creak. Someone flip-flopped in and the fluorescent lights hummed on. They were on their hands and knees in a dungeon of sorts. All of them were facing the walls about one foot from them. They could turn their heads well enough to see the man on their left and the man on their right, but no better. They did not know how many of them were in here or how long they had been waiting in the dark. There had been whispered conversations, but no one knew anything. They had been brought in blindfolded, one after another, by silent captors over the course of the morning. Several hours in the dark. They had been stripped and strapped into open, box-framed slings that held them horizontal from the waist to the shoulders. Their heads were free to hang. Their arms were straight behind at their sides, shackled at the wrists to their iron frames. The shackles were lined with the same fabric their slings were made of, seat-belt fabric. The slings held them tightly to the tops of their frames and their knees were shackled wide apart to the legs of the frame, about an inch off the floor, and their lower legs out behind them in half-tubes large enough to hold them, shackled at the ankles. They were hanging in the slings but could not move at all. They had been afraid and bewildered before. Now they were terrified.

There was a man shackled and locked in an iron frame tall enough for him to stand up straight on his feet. When he got tired of standing, he let his weight down and hung from his arms. They were held in half-tubes at the top of the frame and shackled down at the elbows and wrists. His legs were shackled wide apart at the knees to the sides of the frame, and his ankles shackled to the frame's legs. He was completely naked, his genitals freshly shaved and when the light came on he had counted 14 other men chained and locked into smaller frames around the outsides of the room, all facing the walls, all naked, and all their genitals freshly shaved. There was a large, grated drain recessed in the floor beneath each one of them. They were all Caucasian as he was. But he didn't look at them for more than 2 seconds.

A Caucasian woman had walked in completely naked and stood surveying them all. No one spoke. Only the two men closest to the door could turn their heads well enough to see her. The last man she looked at was the one standing toward the rear. She could see he was terrified of her, and his flaccid cock, all 9 inches of it, did not twitch, just hung totally limp straight down, circumcised. His balls were the size of jumbo chicken eggs and hung loose a good 4 inches down between his thighs. He was 6 feet 3 inches and saw that she was about 5 feet 10 inches. He had short, wavy brown hair and a scruffy brown goatee, neatly trimmed close to his chin. She saw again that he was beautiful. He saw for the first time that she was beautiful. She had a gorgeous mane of wavy brown hair, and as she put a hand to the wall to kick her flip-flops off, he saw that her hair fell full and fluffy to the center of her back. She was not porcelain white, but not very tan. Her skin was a healthy, light mocha color.

Her breasts were solid D-cups. They did not hang very low, but jiggled and swayed, heavy with fat. They were real. They were perfection. She could have dialed a phone with her nipples. She swung the door shut to a heavy clang without turning her back to him, then started walking and as she approached, she grinned a little. She had huge, emerald eyes and her clit was already as red as her lips and swollen out of its hood. She was clean-shaven down there, too, and her pussy lips were puffy. She had just been fucking someone. He estimated the room to be about 60 by 60 feet, and as she padded toward him on beautiful bare feet with high arches he saw that she lifted weights. Heavy weights. Her upper arms were almost as big as his and he had never in his life seen a woman whose biceps displayed that big blue vein down the center like a man's. She had an 8-pack of abs that he could just barely see when she breathed out. Her thighs were gigantic and rippled muscle all over as she walked. He watched her quads flex up to her abs. They weren't freakishly cut, just massive and even from the front, he could see her calves were huge, too. And yet, she had somehow not lost her breasts with all her strength training. He guessed she weighed 150 lbs and it was all smooth, firm muscle. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 6 feet 3 inches, about 195 lbs. She had yet to see his cock hard, but if it was 9 inches long and 2 and a half inches wide while totally soft, she estimated it would be at least 13 inches long if he could get it up all the way. She hoped he could do so naturally. If not, he would with the proper cocktail of drugs. She had no idea how thick it would be. She padded up to him and he loved the sound of her feet, but in spite of everything he saw and heard, he was terrified of her and his cock wasn't reacting to any of it. She stopped just in front of him and surveyed his face very calmly with a hint of a smile. Big, brown eyes, a slender nose. She flatly looked down at his dick, cocked her head a bit, then slowly looked up along his 8-pack to his huge, wide chest, over his shoulders and down his thick upper arms to his forearms. His chest hair grew soft and fine in a wide spot in the center almost to his nipples, and down in a slender trail to just above his navel.

She backed up a step and started walking around him without looking up. He lost sight of her and focused on her footsteps. Then he gasped and almost whimpered as she gently placed her hands on his ass cheeks. They were cold but her hands were warm and she caressed him, squeezing as she walked around to his right side, then stopped and squeezed both hands at the top of his right thigh, the quad and hamstring, and kneaded it firmly as she drew her hands down to his knee. She was enjoying the feel of his muscle. Then she slid her left hand back up and cupped his right cheek, pushed it up, and squeezed, rolling her fingers in its softness, then let go and patted it twice. All this time, no one in the room had said a word and he was shocked at how loud the echoes were of her patting him.

She walked around in front of him again with a big smile, not showing her teeth, and whispered, "What is your name?"

He swallowed. "Flynn Fitzherbert." He cleared his throat.

She smiled and now showed her perfect teeth. "How old are you, Flynn?"

"Twenty-six."

She nodded. "I'm 22. My name is Cassandra." Her smile fell sharply away and she turned her back to him, surveying the men on their hands and knees around the room. Flynn immediately looked down and saw the ass of Aphrodite. It was the most astoundingly beautiful ass any woman had ever sported around him. Wide hips and a great, round ass of tight, solid muscle. His cock still did not twitch. He knew full well - they all did - that something very bad was about to happen to every one of them. And that there was absolutely nothing in the world they could do about it.

"Hello, men," she said and this was the first any of them had heard her voice. It was a sonorous contralto. Flynn's heart was speeding up a little. "You are all guilty," she said, "at least of being members of the Resistance. Both FAMD and the House of Ladies concur that this constitutes sedition, and therefore high treason, the punishment for which is castration."

The men all gasped or whimpered or began muttering very quietly under their breaths, but no one spoke up. Flynn's heart and breathing were hastening more. She heard this and turned around. "Calm down. You're last," she whispered, and winked at him. He did calm down, but did not smile. He frowned, confused. She saw that, smirked and turned back to the others.

"There is a clipboard on each of your cages," she said. Flynn noticed them then, looked down, but could not see one on his. She began padding slowly around behind them. They could not see her. "They are dossiers of your crimes. I have been assigned to punish you for them and your punishments will vary according to your crimes." Whimpers got louder as she neared them. "If you are only guilty of sedition your punishment will be castration, and perhaps a quick one." Most of the men were panting now, whimpering, some almost whining like dogs. "If you are guilty of worse crimes, I am authorized to make you wish you did not have testicles." Several men burst into rapid sobs. Flynn could hear them. Her voice had been steadily lowering and now she nearly growled, "And I am exceedingly. Effective. At this!"

He heard sniffles and low, moaning whimpers from every one of them now. He did not whimper because she had told him he would be last, and except for sedition, he knew he was guilty of nothing. The thought of operating as a medic for the Resistance did suddenly fill his gut with a burst of terror, since she had threatened castration, and a dick and balls as gigantic and beautiful as his make a man narcissistic. Take them away and you take away much more than his pride. He looked in mirrors and felt he was the apotheosis of narcissism, even if he hadn't had sex in over a year. A 16-inch long, 4-inch wide dick scares the ladies away. He'd only had sex 4 times, and none of them had taken more than 8 inches before freaking out and telling him to get off. He had never cum in a pussy or ass. He had to content himself with several hundred blowjobs, and his bucketload ejaculations had strangely turned every woman off, not aroused them. He was built like Captain America, just as good-looking as that old actor from almost a century ago, and his narcissism was one of two reasons he was not quite so terrified as he had been before she spoke. His narcissism told him to hope that she wanted sex.

The other reason was that he was the only one shackled in a standing position. He was the only anomaly in the room. She had positioned him so she could face him, but none of the others. He didn't know what she was going to do to him so he thought hopeful thoughts. And what did her wink mean?

She turned and walked back behind him, he heard a scrape, and she returned with a wide, canvas bench in her left hand, strong enough to carry it effortlessly. It was wood and must have weighed 40 pounds but she balanced it on her upturned palm and he opened his mouth in awe at her flexed biceps. She carried a folding chair in the other, set the bench down to her left, behind three men, then walked to the man closest to the door and sat in the chair behind him. She picked up the clipboard. That man was shivering.

"Steve Alexander. 31 years old. 5 feet 10 inches." She read loudly enough for all to hear and her lusty voice echoed around and around. "Hair brown. Eyes brown. Crimes. Sedition, one, rape, one, assault, four, aggravated battery, two, grand theft auto, two, grand larceny, one, petty - Jesus, that's enough!" She tossed the clipboard out of the way. It clattered off the door as she stood and slid the chair away to the same spot and padded around behind him some ten steps in a semi-circle. Steve Alexander was breathing in deep, rapid gasps, and then yelped loud as she snapped her right foot up between his thighs. The smack was as shockingly loud as his yelp and reverberated through two more kicks. She drew her leg back quickly and Flynn saw Alexander squirming in his chains. His sling would not let him move anything. She snapped her leg forward again and drew it back with expert grace. The smack was much louder and Flynn watched his balls bounce. Alexander yelped in a much higher pitch and started sipping little hitches of breath. Her third kick was so powerful it spot-lifted his cage, with him in it, two inches off the floor and he howled. Flynn listened to the room rise around him in whimpers and moaning. The men were thinking of their crimes.

"Before I remove them," she growled like a wild animal, "I'm going to tenderize them! Do you hear me, Steve Alexander?" She unleashed another kick that lifted his cage off the floor. He shrieked and his voice whined down to a tenor whimper. He sounded just like a dog. He groaned and belched. She slammed her foot up between his thighs and felt both his balls flatten across the top of it, against his pelvis. He howled and his hitchy, uncertain breath made the howl break up and skitter. Then he was mewling, drooling, and as she drew her leg back, Flynn saw he was writhing and bucking against his chains as the pain roiled up into his gut. He tilted his head back, straight up, and Flynn listened to him groan up high as the pain welled and welled. His head flopped out of view and he belched again. Flynn heard him spit. It dribbled the floor. He spat again. Just as much dribble.

She padded around between his cage and the next, bent over, grabbed his hair and yanked his face up to hers. "Puke for me!" she seethed, shoved his head down, walked back behind him and Flynn watched the perfection in her kick. She didn't straight-leg it from her hip. She lifted her thigh first until her knee was almost parallel to the floor, then snapped her lower leg out like a spring and smashed Steve Alexander's dangling nuts flat against pelvis again and this time he didn't scream. Flynn heard an initial squeal that cut short and he knew why. Alexander could no longer breathe well enough to make much noise. She drew her leg back and he was convulsing vehemently, his feet twisting inward, toes curled up. Flynn didn't know what the end result of such agony was, but Alexander didn't look like he could take much more.

She didn't give a fuck. He was spitting and spitting and still she swung her foot up and flattened his balls as hard as she could, the cage lifted from the floor, settled, and that was the one that did it. Steve Alexander gasped and Flynn watched his whole body stiffen, back arch, and Steve Alexander vomited the large prison lunch he had eaten some hours ago directly into the drain beneath him. He vomited again, a great heaving, ragged moan of a little food and a lot of stomach acid. He spat and saliva and snot dangled form his face. And then the pain set in. He groaned and writhed as it worsened, but he couldn't breathe well enough now to be loud.

She turned around, facing Flynn for a moment, glanced at his dick, still flaccid, grinned and padded around. "You're probably wondering how much pain I'm going to make your balls cause you before you black out or go into shock and die!" She wasn't sweating. Not a hair out of place. She reminded him of Wonder Woman. Who was that woman who portrayed her in those old movies? Gal Gadot! That was she! But Cassandra looked like Gal Gadot in steroidal beast mode. And impossibly just as beautiful. "That's the bad news, fuckers! You were all injected with the latest cocktail available to prisons for corporal punishment! Three drugs! The first you may think of as a muscle relaxant just for your heart! It prevents your heart rate from surpassing 160! So you won't suffer fibrillations, arrhythmia, or a heart attack! The other two drugs work together in your brain! The first blocks any and all releases of endorphins! Endorphins are natural painkillers, much more powerful than morphine! And you will miss them! The second drug operates in your cerebellum! It prevents the cerebellum from realizing that there is too much pain, too much of a problem with the body! The cerebellum will, thus, NOT shut off your brain! This cocktail is my fucking favorite because of cunts like you! It prohibits you from escaping the agony! You will experience ZERO relief! No matter how I work you the fuck over! How long! Or how badly!"

Flynn smelled Steve Alexander's vomit. She turned back with her hands on her hips to Alexander, still writhing and groaning, lowered her hands and growled as she snapped a ninth kick up between his thighs. She had yet to miss either of them. Every kick flattened them both and this one made him shriek and the shriek died away only a little to a ragged whine, his head flew up, he grunted and shit all over himself, a spray of diarrhea that jetted a foot away to the floor, splattered his thighs, his calves and feet, and she started chuckling, turned and padded up past Flynn, he heard a spigot squeak, and she returned with a hose. Alexander was dry heaving, his whole body visibly waving pain up and down in the sling, as she rinsed him clean and rinsed it into the drain. She walked past Flynn replaced the hose, then returned to Alexander. Nine kicks. All full force. Based on his screams, his vomiting and shitting, Flynn was sure Cassandra's method of castration, at least for Alexander, was going to consist of kicking him until both his balls ruptured. Flynn was wrong.

She set the chair behind him with her left profile to Flynn so he could see Alexander's balls and what she was about to do them. She grabbed them both, swollen almost to the size of Flynn's, and Alexander gasped, his breath cut off, and he keened a thin, weak, high-pitched wail as she squeezed the right one, yanked it down, then slowly let it squirt up out of her grip. He bucked violently as she let it go. She squeezed the left one in her other hand, yanked it down, and slowly let it squirt out of her grip up toward his taint. It looked just like she was milking a cow, except she wasn't squeezing the teats of an udder. She was squeezing his balls and Flynn could see the muscles of her forearms rippling. She was squeezing as hard as she could.

"If you're worried that they're ruptured, Steve Alexander, don't," she growled. She let his left nut squirt out of her grip and he shrieked and started shuddering. "I could kick your naked, dangling balls all day and they wouldn't!" Flynn watched her dig her thumbnail into his right nut, Alexander's dry heaving began again, he let out a giant fart as his body attempted to cope with the hellish agony by voiding his stomach and bowels again, then she slowly let it squirt up and out as he finally found his voice again and let out a long, falsetto wail. It squirted out of her grip and he barked like a little rat dog, then started sobbing in great, rolling heaves. Sobbing because now the pain had finally become overwhelming. When that happens and you have not been injected with whatever cocktail she had described, you mercifully black out. Or your heart stops. Steve Alexander was about to experience only the most horrific mercy she would allow.

She gave both his nuts one final, powerful squeeze each at the same time, digging her nails in on all sides as his wail rose and rose in pitch, not volume, and his shuddering turned to frantic bucking, jingling the chains a little, but he was solidly trapped and as she slowly let them squirt out of her grip, his wail broke into sections of plaintive bleats, exactly the noise a lamb or a goat makes. He jolted hard upward against his bonds and settled back into waves of writhing anguish. He belched and farted a good five times as she stood and walked back toward Flynn. She didn't smile at him, but what he saw in her eyes made him catch his breath as she passed: unbridled malevolence. This woman was sadistic and having the time of her life.

She reappeared and stood a few feet from Flynn with a double-sided dildo and a padded black rubber mat, about 3 inches thick. One end of the dildo, 10 inches long and 3 inches wide, was chrome-plated steel. The other end was 12 inches long, 4 inches wide and made of hard, black rubber. There was a harness fitted to the center, and she began strapping it to her. She looked up at Flynn and slowly pushed the steel end into her pussy. Her eyes never left his as she smoothly pushed it all the way in without hesitation. She winked at him and smiled, then stood and tightened the harness, stretching it and letting it smack back against her beautiful ass. There was a small, concave shaped knob at the hilt of the steel end and she straightened it snugly over her clit.

She returned to Steve Alexander, dropped the mat behind him, walked between the cages and yanked his sweaty head up and Flynn could see the look in her eyes from 30 feet. She glared at Alexander, who whimpered and panted beneath, with vibrant green eyes and a perfect, bright white grin, but that grin said "helpless." That look told Alexander and Flynn that she was cold and unsympathetic to their pleas because their pleas were sexually gratifying her. She placed her hand over his mouth to shut him up and said, "Steve Alexander." It was a growling purr. "Rape. One count." Her eyes and smile widened. Tears were streaming hot over her fingers and Alexander's eyes widened. Then he sniffled and shut them tight. She chuckled, let his head down, walked behind him, adjusted the mat and knelt on it. She flipped a switch through several settings and her steel end of the dildo hummed to life, a bass tone, about the same register Flynn would hum in, and she moaned. Flynn would never know if she had done it deliberately, but she was humming the same tone, just several octaves higher. He saw her ass jiggle. Not long, not really an orgasm, just an initial thank-you hiccup from her pussy.

She pressed the tip of the 12-inch end to Alexander's asshole. He shivered. He knew what was coming. The pain in his balls was still severe, but not quite as bad as the churning misery in his belly. "I could make this a lot worse," she growled and Flynn heard unsteadiness in her voice. Her vibrator was working her good. She waited for one last sniffling whimper from Alexander, and there it was. He didn't disappoint. "Oh. By the way. No lube."

She shoved 4 inches by 4 inches hard into his ass. He yelled but quickly stopped and began panting. It hurt but not as much as he had expected. It was nothing compared to his balls. She gripped the sides of his ass with her nails and shoved another inches in. He howled and his howl subsided to whining bleats, almost squelching whistles. She leaned forward, grabbed both his shoulders and muttered, "Welcome to my world, BITCH!!" and with the last word, shoved the last 4 inches in to a loud, meaty smack. Steve Alexander shrieked high and long with ragged breaks in his voice. It was precisely the sound a comic book or an author of pulp fiction would spell with a variation of "AAAAAIIIIEEEE!!!" Flynn winced for the first time. The last of it quickly trailed off to a weak squeal. With each rapid breath, he squealed weakly. He and Flynn both heard her chortle. Then, instead of pulling out, she wrapped those massive legs around the legs of his cage, curling her calves against his inner thighs, and shove herself as deep as she could, pulling back on his shoulders with all her strength. He shrieked again, much louder than before.

Flynn could hear in her voice that her teeth were clenched. He had a good idea of her facial expression, too. Raging aggression. She was the Alpha Female. She shoved again just as mightily. he shrieked again. He sounded like a very loud, squawking bird echoing for several seconds each time around the room. It was starting to hurt Flynn's ears. She uncurled her lower legs, set them on either side of the drain, pulled out about 5 or 6 inches and Steve Alexander panted and whimpered. He spoke then, "No. Please," very quietly, and Flynn heard her snarl, "HELL yeah..." then grunted and pounded the dildo balls deep again. Alexander shrieked that comic book sound effect eight times, rapidly, much higher, more ragged, and Flynn was shying away from it.

He almost had to close his eyes but he saw Cassandra grind her crotch sideways while buried to the hilt, and he kept his eyes open for that. She was grinding all 12 inches of that dildo in Steve Alexander's rectum, deep in his colon, and she was doing it to keep his screams going. They changed timbre 40 seconds into it, from the squawking of some huge bird to a much more strident ululation, like Tarzan's yell, but shredded, and now far beyond desperate or frantic. Flynn wouldn't understand until she explained a few moments later that if Alexander's brain could not shut off and his body could not die, there was no real respite, no relief, but there was a reckoning, and he had reached it.

She pulled out about 5 or 6 inches and paused to let his screaming slowly subside. Flynn honestly didn't think it would. He had never heard a man make this noise, not from a bullet through the kneecap, a broken femur, nothing. But it did slowly subside, over the course of 90 seconds, a long time to hear it. When Alexander was finally breathing quietly again, Flynn heard what he had been watching for the last several minutes. Cassandra's pussy was streaming juice and it was spattering the tile floor in a puddle the diameter of a basketball. She steadied her feet and Flynn shook his head. He winced ahead of it. She shoved the dildo right back to the hilt and Alexander wailed that awful, shredded Tarzan yell anew, ripped up, rising and falling and rising in pitch, in volume, falling, rising, and then he began to sob in great, retching heaves, full-voiced agony, misery, and sorrow, the sobbing of a child who has just seen his parents die. She ground away in him some more to play with his voice. She was using it like a musical instrument.

Then she pulled out halfway, unwrapped her legs from him, stood and pulled the rest out. She stepped shakily away from him. Flynn knew that walk. She had just had an extraordinarily powerful orgasm. Her face was beautifully flushed and she started laughing uncontrollably as she looked Alexander over. He wasn't whimpering, just giving voice to his panting. Dozens of breaths per minute but it quickly began slowing and Flynn knew full well that could not have been his constitution, his toughness. That was the drug she mentioned keeping his heart calm.

Cassandra unstrapped the dildo, switched it off, and pulled her end out in a long, sucking slurp. Pussy juice flooded out after it, splattering the floor, her feet, her shins. At least a cup of it, maybe a pint, and as it did, she moaned a long, loud, "Oh!" and started laughing again. She looked back at Steve Alexander, writhing and heaving gasps, and purred, "Was it good for you, too, babe?" She snorted some giggles and staggered back past Flynn. He heard her set the dildo down, then metal rattling in a pan. She reappeared with large pliers of some sort. She paused and looked at him. "This is a burdizzo. It's used for gelding livestock." Her pussy was still streaming down both legs.

She brought the chair back behind him, dropped the burdizzo to the floor, then padded around to his head. She pulled him up by his hair with her left hand and said, "Assault! Four counts! Aggravated battery! Two counts!" Then she reared back her right and punched him as hard as she could right across the mouth. He grunted, almost shouted, then groaned. She still held his hair. He wouldn't look back up, so she yanked him up, growled and punched him again, so hard Flynn winced away with his own groan. Facial bones are much harder than fingers and he was sure she had just broken one. He could have sworn he heard some kind of cracking noise, but she didn't shake her hand. She didn't seem to mind. Alexander spat and Flynn heard a tooth tinkle over the tile. She reared back and punched him again just as powerfully as she possibly could and Flynn was honestly unsure if he could punch any harder. He heard a much louder, sharper crack and Steve Alexander screamed for an instant, then shouted, "AH!! Ah!! Ah!! Ah!!" This dwindled into a long groan.

Cassandra walked back around behind him. "Enjoy your soup, fucker. How's that jaw feel?" Without a pause, she strode her left leg high over his ass and straddled him, sat down on his lumbar, reached down and grabbed his balls, one in each hand. They were swollen almost to the size of plums, now, and just as purple. Alexander mewled quietly, shivering as she separated them into her hands and gripped them. She looked up at Flynn with that bright smile. If he had been a sadist who was not at her mercy, he probably would have smiled back. Hers was one of pure joy, elation, not ecstasy. Ecstasy was what she had just enjoyed at the expense of Steve Alexander's colon. Elation was what she was about to enjoy at the final expense of his testicles.

She winked at Flynn, then carefully positioned Alexander's testicles each between the middle and ring fingers of each hand. Then she started squeezing. She didn't hesitate to enjoy the sound of his suffering. This was the beginning of the end of his sex life. It had long since become the beginning of the end of his mental well-being. He started whimpering more loudly. The old familiar hurt was rising inexorably again, but her squeeze was different. His balls were trapped between the muscles of the second and third joints of her fingers and the muscle of the tops of her palms. Everything around them was unyieldingly tight and he felt this immediately. Now he knew this was the end and his retching sobs hastened and increased in volume.

On and on, tighter and tighter, she squeezed. Steve Alexander had perhaps not seen or noted the muscle of her forearms, but Flynn had and he knew she had more than enough strength to go all the way. Testicles are incredibly tough, resilient. Perhaps Nature had made a mistake placing them outside most male animals' bodies, but it had compensated by making them nearly impervious. but they were not impervious and Steve Alexander was discovering this little by little, but fast, steadily. She was now squeezing them with all three joints of all four fingers, the tips carefully rolling into his soft, but gristly organs without her nails. Her nails seated themselves harmlessly in her palms. There would be no sharpness to this. Only dull, merciless pressure. His balls were not flattening out. She was keeping them round, more or less, with her fingers. They were becoming longer, more ovoid. She felt this, and shaped her palms to counter it. She drew her index and little fingers inward, pressing his balls back in, fatter, closer to their normal shape.

Flynn wasn't watching her hands so much as her pussy, flooding juice over Alexander's back, his ass, streaming from both sides of his waist, down both asscheeks, his hamstrings to the backs of his knees, pooling, dripping, streaming and dribbling onto the floor. She looked up at him. Flynn was now so horrified of her bestial wantonness that he dropped his gaze from her beautiful face. Alexander's whimpering had risen as steadily as her pressure. She was in total control of it. She was deciding how much he had to hurt in answer for his crimes. Flynn glanced up at a squawk in Alexander's voice. Cassandra was still glaring at him, eyes wide, filled with delectably rich euphoria. Her smile was slightly open and askew. If she'd been wearing facepaint, he would have thought of her as a female iteration of that clown from the old Stephen King book.

She had squeezed Steve Alexander's balls down to one-third their normal girth. But a tiny bit closer, a micron, an angstrom, that was all her fists had to close, and his balls would pop, and Alexander knew this by feel. She squeezed harder then, and his screaming whine became a screaming, bawling wail again, only now he really was no longer a human being. The agony she was wreaking in his balls had caused his brain to make him something new to science. Something bizarre to Flynn.

His wail rose and fell as before, but was now pure, not ragged or in his chest. It was falsetto, as plaintive and beseeching as ever, but singing clear as a bell, and his voice was now legitimately as perfect as that of a coloratura soprano in a professional opera. Then Flynn saw something that made him heave hard over. He didn't vomit, but he gagged strongly 4 times, then looked again in horrid disbelief. He shook his head but what he saw remained.

Cassandra's grips suddenly completed. All at once, she finished making fists. Her fingers plunged in. Her fists became as small as they were going to become.

Steve Alexander puled. It was all he had left. To him it was a roar, but to the room it was a pule, a weak, soft, bleating cry. His balls had just popped in her grips, the left one first because it was in her strong hand, then his right. Flynn could not hear the sound from his distance, but Cassandra could and lifted her head up and back with a laughing smile. Her hips bucked and bucked. Pussy juice sprayed high, 20 feet across the floor and Flynn knew it was 20 feet because he was good at eyeballing distance. He stood 10 feet from it. She sprayed again, and now she began to yipe in that beautiful contralto. Purring, falsetto squeals, while Steve Alexander bucked and writhed in overwhelming agony. His head lolled in every direction as he tried to get away from it. But there was no escape.

Cassandra bucked and writhed in overwhelming ecstasy as she came and came, wave after wave. Fat spurts of cum rolled out of her vagina to join the others shot into the air. Flynn did not realize it, but their splatters were music to his lust. His cock made its first twitch. Her pussy's smell was deliciously disgusting, intoxicatingly rich and full. He wanted to chug her cum. He wanted to slurp the last of it from her lips.

Steve Alexander's whining, soprano squeal went on and on as she shifted her grips and made sure that his balls were a homogeneous jelly. They were. And she released them. His whining squeal droned on. She took a deep breath and sighed...long.

Then stood high off him. She enjoyed his bucking squirming for a moment. She reached for the chair, sat in it. She leaned over and picked up the burdizzo. Alexander began dry heaving again. He ripped a massive fart and it was a cloud of blood. She burst out laughing. Flynn beheld all this with an air of simple horror. He knew he would be last, and he knew he would not be able to withstand it. None of them would. This dungeon was Hell. She was Satan Herself. And they waited at her mercy. No one was whimpering or moaning or muttering anymore. He noticed this then. No one but Steve Alexander.

She opened the burdizzo, settled it above Alexander's balls, then above his right ball. He didn't feel this. He only felt the still-detonating agony in his balls and the misery ravaging gleefully in his bowels. His brain could not fathom the intensity of it because without the drugs he had been injected with his brain would have shut off a long time ago. Now it was in no-man's land. No one knows what to do in no-man's land. All a mind can do is observe and record. She did not hesitate. She had had her fun with Steve Alexander. There were 14 more men in this room.

She clamped the burdizzo down on Alexander's right spermatic cord. His sack had already swelled to the size of a softball with blood. He would have bled to death in 15 minutes, but death would have been a blessing. He wouldn't have learned anything. Now he was in the process of learning that every crime he had committed was a crime and he had committed them. What little vestige of sanity remained understood that it was sorry. She had made her point. She had won.

He gasped, paused, and started keening again, that sickening, high-pitched note that was no longer an aspect of a voice. It was just a noise. Some sound a goat might make for the same reason. Flynn heard the cord crunch and shut his eyes tight at it, a crunch as strong as that of a celery stick, but there was a popping sound as well, something like a whole head of celery wrapped in rubber bands. The rubber had to pop free and that was Steve Alexander's tunica albuginea releasing its hold from the artery and vein in his right spermatic cord. The tunica albuginea, with which Flynn would become intimately familiar later, was a gristly sheet of pure nerve fiber that wrapped the balls and their cords, all the way up into the abdomen to the spermatic plexus. Cassandra had just crushed Steve Alexander's right spermatic cord, stopping all blood flow and nerve stimulus to that testicle. It no longer caused him pain. But the spermatic cord did, the same pain as his crushed ball.

He no longer made any noise but sips of breath. She orgasmed and Flynn saw that this was because of Alexander's bucking, his writhing, his desperate squirming against his shackles. Flynn had seen women orgasm this many times this quickly, but he had never in his life seen so much cum involved. Cup after cup of it streamed, sprayed, dribbled, flooded out of her, splattering the floor and her feet, the musk so thick in the air that he could taste it now on the back of his tongue with each breath. She had to be dying of thirst.

She clamped down again on his right spermatic cord, above the first crimp. She could have crushed his cord higher first, then lower afterward and this would have spared him some pain, but she had not and Flynn knew why. She wasn't done torturing him. This second crimp made Alexander burst alive with fresh thrashing in his bonds. It seemed impossible to Flynn that he could still have this energy, but he demonstrated it. Alexander made no noise except cavernous panting. His throat was open all the way to his stomach and if there had been anything in it, he would have puked. But he was past this. Flynn dimly considered that what he was witnessing was worse than Hell.

Cassandra released his right spermatic cord, then settled the burdizzo around his left cord and clamped it shut. Alexander yowled only once, a quick, tenor bark. Then he was back to his gasping and dribbling spit. She twisted the burdizzo around to see what she was doing, opened it, pushed it an inch higher and clamped it shut again. Flynn winced at the celery crunch. Steve Alexander shrieked, quite the full-voiced shriek given his condition. She would tell Flynn later that this was because whatever was left of his mind still understood that this fourth and last crunch signalled the end of his nuts, the end of his sex life, the last time he would ever have an orgasm.

She squeezed the burdizzo a little harder to be sure, then opened it, stood, and brought it with her, walking to Flynn. She wasn't going to pass him by, and he shied backward, eyes suddenly wider. She grinned, eyes suddenly wider, stepped face to face with him. And she kissed him. A slathering, slurpy French kiss. He hesitated and backed off at first, but she didn't bite, and when he heard the burdizzo clatter on the floor, he kissed her back, sucked her tongue, she sucked his, wrapped her arms around his back, he felt her jump and then her legs were locked tight around his lumbar. She sucked his tongue out to the root, smacking and slurping at the insides of his cheeks, then his lips, then sucked away from him and looked him in the eyes.

He stood looking into the eyes of an Alpha Female wolf. He was sure of this now. And she confirmed it: "I'm going to make you my bitch!"

Full story with illustrations here

Contains: >!circumcision humiliation, rupture, castration, mommy roleplay!<

Pain.

His world was pain. Nothing but pain. The boy groaned in agony as consciousness mercilessly flooded his mind. Nerves sang with electric pain, concentrated right between his legs. He tried to remember where he was. He tried to remember who he was.

When he looked up at the vision before him, he realised what had happened.

He’d died. He was dead, and this was the afterlife. He just wasn’t quite sure which one yet.

The pain between his legs told him it was hell. The breasts in his face, and the beautiful, wonderfully naked middle-aged woman they belonged to, told him it was heaven. Certainly, this angel was an improvement over a cherub with a harp. He just wished the pain would stop.

Her outline was soft and doubled, like everything else in the strange purgatory he’d ascended or descended into. She knelt between his legs, leaning over him with an expression somehow between sympathy and avarice. Her boobs were inches from his face, and when she noticed he was awake, she grabbed his face and pressed him into them. They were warm and deliciously supple against his face. The scent of sweat and womanly musk enveloped him completely.

This must be heaven. He instinctively tried to grab a handful, but something tugged his wrist tight.

“Oh Robert, sweetie, it's ok! Mommy has you. You're ok.” He was moderately sure that wasn't his name, but he didn't see the need to correct the angel yet. And he really hoped mommy was a title, or the fact that he was buried face-deep in her tits and rock hard might actually send him to hell.

“What…what happened?”

“You don’t remember?” His memories were still slippery, and he couldn't keep hold. Something almost came back to him, a pub, a…woman. He almost had it, but a lance of searing nutpain knocked it away.

“You played a prank on me. You always loved your pranks, and…you got me good, Robert. Really good. You were on the floor, hiding, and you grabbed my leg to make me trip — I didn't see you at all. You made me completely lose my balance.”

She sighed. “I'd always warned you not to prank me like that. But I think you're going to be a little more careful from now on.”

“What do you mean?” Cold fear tickled in the back of his brain. Fear. Something besides the burning agony in his scrotum felt very wrong.

“I landed right on your little…on your privates, dear. And I was wearing my heels. The really pointy ones.”

“I stepped on them good. Stomped on them, really. And you know I've gained a little weight since becoming a mom, and you had gotten naked, for some reason, so you didn’t have any protection at all…” she winced. “My toe came down full force onto your left testicle. Like, smack right on top of it.”

“No…”

She nodded sadly. “Like I said, you really should've been more careful, honey. At least you still have the right one.”

“What!?”

“Let this be a lesson for you. Don't prank mommy if you don't want her to accidentally pop your ball like a grape.”

POP

The sound…

That pain.

His memories came flooding back.

“GET OFF!!! Get the FUCK OFF OF ME!! LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!”

Melody sighed again. “Well, that was fun while it lasted.”

---

Melody

Melody was happy but unsurprised to see her bonds were strong enough to withstand Ryan’s attempts to escape. She'd gotten quite good at tying boys up in her year playing with Malcolm, and Ryan was a good deal smaller than him. She kept her knee between his legs; his left ball was totally mush now, but he clearly still had some nerve endings in his ballsack for her to enjoy. She pressed him harder into her boobs to muffle his screams.

“I do appreciate you holding back, Ryan. I would've figured you for a quick shot, but I guess your real mom took that sensitivity away from you.”

“Oh God, my balls…what did you do?!”

“I popped one, obviously. And you managed not to cum. Very impressive, for a cum loaded virgin.”

Ryan started to hyperventilate. She eased up the pressure on his broken nut and watched as the truth set in.

“Please…I need to go to the hospital. They can save it. Please call an ambulance. They can still save it please!”

“No, Ryan, I promise they can't.” She pinched the left side of his scrotum between two fingers and rolled it around.

“See? It’s just mush.” Ryan bawled, and Melody felt herself getting wet again.

“I think Mommy needs to cum again, Ryan.”

“Please…I can’t…”

She turned around and sat on his face, cutting off the rest of his protests. Grinding her pussy against his mouth, she enjoyed the vibrations from his screams. Leaning forward, she lined her breasts up with his continuously rock-hard cock and wrapped them around it. He gasped.

“See? I know what’s best for you. You’ve been so good to me — eating me out, letting me play with you, even letting me pop you —” She hugged her massive boobs tightly, and his dick twitched and let out a massive splurt of precum. Bobbing up and down, she lubed up his cock thoroughly between her breasts and rocked back and forth on top of his face. His screams had turned to moans. She was sure his broken ball was still excruciating, but he could still enjoy the feeling of her tits against his dick.

“I shouldn’t tell you what to do now that you have some experience. Come on, Ryan, pick up the pace.” His tongue started sliding into and around her. She lifted up and gave his cock a pump with her breasts, and he sped up. Holding her boobs tight around his cock, she started to give him his first boobjob. His pink, bare little head nearly poked through her cleavage on each downstroke.

“You know, if you were just a little bigger, you could reach my mouth.” Her pussy muffled his whines entirely.

“No, I know you’re not tiny. If you were tiny, you couldn’t fit between my tits at all.” She grabbed them together with both hands and sped up the pace of her titfucking. She sped up even more, her tits a blur up and down his bare cock. His scrotum started to slap against her. Most boys’ ballsacks get really tight and rigid when they’re this close, but Melody figured being half-full meant his scrotum would still be floppy even when he was on the verge of cumming. She went even faster and as hard as she possibly could. Both his intact and broken ball were now slapping loudly against her boobs with each stroke, and the high-pitched screams beneath her told her that her boobjob was as painful as it was pleasurable.

“Aw, why are you crying, babe?” She panted as she neared her own orgasm, but didn’t let up on his cock at all. Leaning back and releasing his cock from her cleavage, she grabbed the shaft with both hands and began pumping as quickly and roughly as she possibly could; he was leaking more than enough precum to lubricate her hands. His damaged scrotum slapped against her with every stroke, over and over, gaining speed as she kept the rhythm of her pumping fast and painful. She could feel him screaming beneath her, thrashing desperately, probably begging her to slow down his inaugural handjob. The screams provided beautiful vibrations against her pussy, and ruining the little pleasure she was giving him with even more sack-slapping ballpain was truly so fucking satisfying. She quickly reached another edge.

“Oh FUCK, RYAN!” She gushed all over his face, letting go of his dick not a second too soon. His cock fired off spurt after spurt, but through her orgasm she was satisfied to see his cum stayed completely clear; she still hadn’t pushed him over the edge.

She grabbed his last ball with both hands, thankful it was large enough to fit both around, and squeezed as hard as she could, her fingers pressing it into her palm, deforming the organ deliciously around all ten points of pressure and causing it to bubble between her knuckles. She wriggled her fingers and felt some important piece of those delicate, tangled sperm-producing testicular insides give way and shift apart. She was sure she’d just snuffed out countless millions of his future children. His screams rose another octave.

Her orgasm petered off at last. She continued her deep tissue massage of his last gonad through her aftershocks, churning her fingers through the impressively sized organ, then finally let go. Rolling the swollen babymaker between her thumb and forefinger, she admired her work. It was still intact, unlike its brother, but it was definitely not the full, healthy organ it had been at the beginning of the night. Swollen from a respectable chicken egg into a ridiculous plum size, the thing was dotted with bruises and blotches. Some regions were still completely intact, but many more were squishy and giving like a badly bruised fruit. Mapping out the exquisite pain of his agony, she wondered if it was too big yet. It had certainly swollen up a lot since she’d sized it up earlier.

But no. It would work. The change in size had come with a corresponding change in pliability. She slid down and flipped around, straddling his waist. Her pussy was now closer to his cock and ball than it had been all night. Melody smiled down at him.

“What do you want to do next, Ryan?”

---

Ryan

“I need to go to the hospital.”

Sometime between losing his ball and being forced to lick her to another selfish orgasm, Ryan had a realisation.

There had never been a chance of losing his virginity in this flat.

Against all reason, he still wanted her, badly. He could feel the heat of her pussy centimetres from his dick. Every cell of his body was screaming out, urging him to thrust forward and slide inside. But she’d just hop off his dick, tease him to another edge, and then…stomp his bollock into pudding, or twist it until it snapped off, or some other horrible testicular war crime he couldn’t imagine. He needed to get himself under control and focus on saving what remained of his sex life before she ended it forever. He needed to stop focusing on what he wanted, and focus on what he needed. And what he needed was to remain a biological man (or at least, half of one).

Even though she’d just inched her way upwards. Even though her pussy lips were now on top of his cock, pressing it against his belly, hotdogging its numbed, circumcised underside. Even though, if she just adjusted herself a tiny bit more and pointed him upwards, he could slide into her dripping wet cunt, and could finally feel that one core experience that defined every other man’s life, that sensation he’d imagined thousands of times in bed while stroking himself.

He definitely needed to ignore all of that.

“Aw, are you sure?”

“Yes. Hospital. Now.”

“But sweetie…You still haven’t gone inside of me. Don’t you want to feel inside mommy? I promised, remember?”

“You’re not going to let me,” he said sullenly. “You already told me. I’d broken my promise, so you broke yours. You’re going to trick me, or pull away at the last second, or pop my other ball, or…something. I don’t know.”

“No, Ryan, I mean it. You’ve been so good to me. I know losing your little nut was uncomfortable, but you’ve made me cum so hard…I just want to make it up to you.”

“It wasn’t uncomfortable.” He was almost shaking. “It was the most painful thing I’ve ever felt, Melody. Do you know what it feels like when your bollock fucking explodes?”

“Hm. No, I suppose I don’t. I’ve seen it happen to enough other boys, I understand it’s not too fun though.”

Of course she’d done this before. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“And it’s…gone. It’s just gone now.”

“I know. And it’s not coming back, not ever. You’re going to be my cute little half-man for the rest of your life.”

“But…Ryan, sweetie, it’s over now. You paid a very high price for something, and wouldn’t it be a waste if you didn’t get what you paid for?”

“And what’s that?” He spat sarcastically. “More bollock torture? Are you going to pop my last one too? It’s not bad enough that I’m half a man now, you need to neuter me completely for your sick fetish? I know you’re not going to fuck me. Stop messing with my head.”

“I’m serious, Ryan. I’ll call an ambulance if you really want, but I’d rather ride you first.”

A glimmer of hope wormed its way past his defences.

“You’re lying.”

“I promise, I’m not.”

She had a point. He still hated her for what she did to him, but hate wouldn’t bring his ball back.

“So, what do you say?”

“...You’re really going to let me inside of you?”

“Yes, Ryan. I absolutely promise.”

“And you’ll let me cum?”

She laughed. “Well, that’s up to you. I’m going to enjoy myself mostly. I can be a little selfish like that. But no, I won’t intentionally stop you from cumming anymore.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Ryan.”

“Ok. Ok, yeah, let’s…let’s have sex.”

She stroked his cheek and leaned over seductively.

“Oh Ryan. I didn’t quite say that.”

She slid down more, her pussy lips leaving his cock. She reached behind her and grabbed his last ball. He started shaking.

“No no no…no more busting. You promised. No more pain…”

“I definitely didn’t promise that, Ryan. I was very careful with my words.” She was straddling his ball now, and he felt her fingers press against it. The entrance to her pussy was very, very wet.

“You promised!”

“I promised you’d get me off and go inside of me. I’m not breaking those promises.”

She considered for a second. “I also said I’d avoid any permanent damage…I guess I didn’t keep that promise. But you broke your promise too. One broken promise for one broken nut — that seems fair to me.”

She pushed his nut against her. His stomach dropped as he comprehended her plan.

“You LIED!”

“Technically, I didn’t.”

“You TRICKED ME!”

“Well. Yeah.”

Her fingers stabbed into him, and his bollock slid inside her.

He’d seen anatomical diagrams of pussies, and had certainly watched enough porn, to know the opening inside was distinctly not testicle-shaped. It was a long, thin crevasse, going up between her lips deep inside her. As his ball flattened out between the two sides, he experienced it firsthand, feeling every distinct ridge and soft pleasurable fold meant for his dick flattening out and squeezing a very different part of his anatomy.

When she’d compressed his nut in her hands, her fingers had dug in sharply, but at least his ball could bulge out between where she wasn’t squeezing, giving him some relief. Her pussy had no such pressure outlet; she squeezed him now from every direction, absolutely equally, crushing and deforming him into a shape more fitting for herself. His massive babymaker almost squirted out of her dripping pussy, but she used one hand to keep it inside, pressing it deeper and deeper into her, until all at once it reached some new widening inside and slid forward of its own accord. His nutcords stretched away from him as she pulled him deeper inside, not even using her hands anymore.

It was quite painful. Melody rocked on top of him slowly, her face flushed but triumphant.

“I knew I could get the fucker in. How's it feel to finally be inside a woman, Ryan?”

“IT HURTS! TAKE IT OUT, PLEASE!”

She ignored him. “They say giving birth makes a woman loose, you know. I was terribly self-conscious about that when I was younger. My doctor recommended kegels, so I did those every day. Do you know what kegels are?”

Ryan shook his head frantically. “No no no. Please don't, Melody.”

“It's where you squeeze your pelvic floor. Supposed to exercise all those muscles, keep me nice and tight. I’m not sure if it worked, though. What do you think?”

“You’re tight, I promise. You’re really really tight, Melody.” He tried not to focus on how good that tightness would’ve felt around his dick.

“Are you sure? I think I can make it tighter. Here, I'll show you what a kegel is like.”

She bit her lip, sticking her tongue out and closing one eye with effort. He saw her soft abs tense. The omnidirectional vise surrounding his bollock squeezed even tighter somehow. His vision went white when the pain hit.

“Did you feel that?”

“YES! God, stop, please!”

She loosened her pussy’s grip, then tightened it again. This time, he could definitely feel something crack, and he started panicking.

“MELODY! SOMETHING BROKE!”

“God, I know.” She had a small smile on her face. “I could feel that too.”

“PLEASE! It’s my last nut!!! Please, for all of your fantasies and your…foreplay, can’t you please just let me keep one?”

She leaned over him as she continued, dangling her boobs in his face, and he could faintly feel the stiff poke of her clit against the bottom of his dick. She was rubbing against him, selfishly taking her pleasure from his cock without allowing him anything but pain. Mere centimetres separated his needy virgin cock from the cunt that was supposed to deflower it.

“No, Ryan. You can’t. I’m going to pop it inside my pussy, unless you can manage to hold out.”

“WHY?!”

“Because I love this.” Squeeze. Crackle.

“I love busting nuts. I love feeling that pop. I love knowing what you’ll lose out on.” Squeeze. Squick

“I have for years. Since high school, and college. I was a demon. I neutered boys left and right. Some deserved it. Most didn’t. And then…I felt bad. I felt like I was broken. I thought, ‘Why can’t I just enjoy normal sex like other girls? What’s wrong with me?’”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I don’t know. I’m just kinky, I guess. Castration is a shockingly common fetish in women these days, you know.”

“...WHAT THE FU-GUH?!” Another tight squeeze. Another nauseating crunch.

“I guess you wouldn’t know. You’ve never been with a girl, have you? And porn aimed at men certainly doesn’t show any pops.”

“PLEASE!”

“It’s the feeling of it all. The physicality. The way a ball holds out for so long, against my foot, or my thumb, or my…” She bit her lip and quivered as she gave the hardest squeeze yet. His vision went white.

“...My ‘quim’. But it’s more than just the physical feeling — I like destroying you. I like messing with your head and making you think you had a chance to walk out of this apartment with your balls intact.”

“I like knowing that, after we’re done, you’ll never have kids, and likely never get a hard-on again. I like knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life with an empty scrotum flapping between your legs, reminding you of that one desperate, magical night you got so close to losing your virginity.”

“I like knowing this is going to be the single most painful, memorable, important, nauseating, soul-crushing hour of your entire existence. And for me…It’s just going to be one more night of sexual relief. I don’t even know if I’ll remember your name in a year or two. But I think you’ll always remember me. Oh fuck.” Ryan felt a gush of wetness over his cock, and realised how close she was to yet another orgasm.

He tried to control himself and get his emotions under control. It was hard when he could literally feel his last testicle breaking away piece by piece, but through the haze and horror of what was happening, he realised that anger and begging wasn’t going to get him anywhere. His balls had been doomed since he’d entered this cursed flat. But maybe he could get something from her before she took everything from him. Ryan switched to bargaining.

“Please…Can’t I just…Can’t I just cum, once? If you’re going to pop it anyway? I’ve waited 27 years. I’ve…I’ve been a good guy. I’ve never harassed any women. Whenever I get turned down for a date, I take it nicely. I’m not a creep. I just…I just want to know what it feels like.”

“Just once, before you —” He swallowed hard. “Before you castrate me.”

“Oh Ryan.” She kissed him on the forehead. “That’d ruin all the fun. But, honestly, even I can’t control you that much. Most boys splatter their load when their last ball pops. I’m sure you’ll do the same. I might even touch your dick while you do it, assuming I’ve already orgasmed.”

“Can you at least do it before it pops?”

“Definitely not. But…I’m getting close — Fuck that feels good. You know, women squeeze even harder when we cum, right? It’ll be harder than I can squeeze on purpose, even with my kegels.”

“Please, god no…”

“You’re really doing a fantastic job fucking me with your ball. It’s even better than most of the cock I’ve taken. It’s almost a shame this will be our last time together.”

He grasped at the sliver of hope she dangled in front of him. “Then don’t! Let me keep it! I…I can fuck you with it again! You can put my ball in you, and crush it, or…or kick me as hard as you want! I won’t even run, or scream. Er, unless you want me to! Please, Melody, just…please let me keep it.”

“Ahhh, Ryan. You are so cute.” She ground against his cock harder, and he reached another edge, his cock spurting several full blasts of precum onto his belly.

“Keep begging like that, and I just might.”

“PLEASE LET ME KEEP IT! LET ME KEEP MY BALL! DON’T NEUTER ME, DON’T CASTRATE ME! I CAN STILL BE A MAN, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE—”

“Oh GOD that’s perfect, honey —”

Her words cut off and she shrieked like a banshee. A bucket of her girl cum covered him, and she began her orgasm.

And Ryan felt her pussy walls pinch together completely, tighter than he could squeeze his own fist. With a gushing, muffled plmf, his last testicle detonated completely inside of her. He heard it just milliseconds before he felt it, searing pain shooting up the torn remnants of his spermatic cords, every part of his body suffusing with agony, his mind blue-screened entirely by the irreversible implications — and yet, he just focused on what she’d said before. He might have one last chance, at least to cum, if he could just…If he could just stay conscious enough to enjoy —

---

Melody

Melody wriggled back and forth on top of Ryan, smiling down at the boy as his eyes rolled back and he passed out. Inside of her, she squeezed hard, grinding anything solid into mush with her pussy, while her clit ground against his still-throbbing cock outside. No final release for him, then. The thought of denying him even that last indignity drove her into another gasping orgasm.

When that was finished, she got to her feet shakily. Ryan’s ballbag slid out of her, still shockingly full, albeit with absolutely nothing resembling a solid testicle sloshing around inside. His dick was, absurdly, still hard.

“I’m ready, Malcolm,” she said, loud enough for him to hear, and Malcolm opened the closet door and stepped out. His massive cock jutted out the full 9 inches in front of him, his scrotum stretched along with it and drooping low to display his own solitary testicle. He stared at Ryan, who was splayed out on the bed. The one-balled man shuddered at the sight of the eunuch’s empty, mushy scrotum, but he also wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking again.

“Do you want to kick me, or squeeze me first? Or…Do you need to get your high heels?”

Smiling lustily, she squatted over Ryan’s face and bent over to present herself to him.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Malcolm, but…I think I’ve had enough ballbusting for right now. I just really need a good fuck.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

---

Ryan

Ryan tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

This was a nightmare, for sure. Or a dream, like one final fantasy of what could’ve been. What his life would’ve looked like if he’d actually convinced her to let him keep one of his testes. Why he was fantasising about a time after losing a testicle, instead of while he had been fully intact, made no sense. But this definitely couldn’t be real.

The pussy being fucked just centimetres from his face was most certainly Melody’s. His doppelganger was fucking Melody with wild abandon, the exact same way he’d been fantasising about all night. The single low-hanging testicle in his sack slapped forward with each grunting thrust, hitting her clit and making her moan. She wasn’t squeezing him, or hurting him, or popping him. And apparently, he fantasised about having a dick ten centimetres longer.

“Oh…oh Ryan, you’re awake!” Melody’s panting reached his ears. “Do you like what you see?”

With growing horror, he tried to pinch himself, but his arms were still tied up. This was horribly real, yet again. He didn’t even get the mercy of a few minutes of amnesia before the horror of reality set in. His testicles were gone, forever, dissolved into an agonising mush. And now, some other man was fucking her? This was some guy he would’ve felt sorry for, maybe even made fun of, just a day ago for being only half a man. Now, Ryan had never been more jealous of anyone in his life. He closed his eyes and started to cry.

“Keep them open, Ryan. Now! I want you to see what you’re missing. I know you never got a chance to try it, but at least you’re getting to see Malcolm enjoy my pussy up close. I’m serious, open your eyes or I’ll snip your dick off too.”

Reluctantly, Ryan pried his eyes back open.

“Isn’t it hot? I took Malcolm’s first nut, a year ago, but he’s still got the other. And he’s definitely still functional. Just let us finish up here and we’ll take you to the hospital when we’re done.”

Ryan’s cock was somehow, pointlessly erect through the whole cruel monologue.

They fucked for hours. He tried to focus on the searing pain in his ballsack to hopefully try to make his brain short-circuit into unconsciousness again. When that didn’t work, he tried his best not to think about it, and try to avoid the searing pain and what he knew would be lifelong changes as a result.

He even tried to cum. His cock stayed hard the whole time, and he could bob it up and down just a bit, just barely enough to make contact with his own waistline. His cockhead was so, so sensitive, and he could almost get over the edge, but even after hours of that gentle, barely felt touch, he couldn’t manage to spurt. He sobbed as Malcolm let out a roar and squirted into the beautiful pussy above yet again.

---

Melody

Melody smiled at the hospital receptionist. “Hi, I’m here to see my son?”

“Of course, ma’am. What’s his name?”

“Ryan!”

“Um, and his last name, please?”

Melody frowned. “Please, miss. I just want to see my son. He had a really bad injury, he’s really traumatized, and he needs his mother.”

“Ok, I understand, I just need his —”

Melody pinched herself beneath the desk, forcing tears out. “I…I don’t have time to do paperwork, or answer all these questions!”

“Right, I understand, but just to find him —”

“He lost his balls, do you understand?!” She sobbed at the woman. “He’s nutless, and he’ll never have sex, and I’ll never have grandchildren. Do you get it? Can you just let me comfort my fucking son?!”

“Ok! Ok.” The nurse swallowed hard. “Yeah, I…we know him, of course. He’s the first double orchiectomy we’ve had in decades. He was very memorable. You know, we don’t exactly cut off a lot of balls around here. Do you know what happened?”

“Hm?” Melody hadn’t prepared for such an absurd question. Even small hospitals where she lived tended to process five to ten castrations a day, she happened to know.

“Oh. Um, he…tripped. He fell really hard. Please, just let me see him.”

“Um, just down the hall, to the left.”

“Thank you!” Melody hurried to see her ‘son’.

---

Ryan

Ryan lay back miserably in his hospital bed, his legs still suspended in the stirrups. His empty scrotum and limp dick hung loosely below his hospital gown. He was just going through the short list of people he needed to inform about his newly found sterility. His step-mother and his family doctor were just about the only people who’d really care, and he was just contemplating the dreadful act of explaining this to either of them when Melody opened the door. His eyes went wide.

“I told them not to let you in…”

“Mom’s always got her ways.”

“You’re not my mum.”

“Well, they didn’t know that.” She looked underneath his gown, down between his legs and grinned.

“Wow. They took it all out, didn’t they? I bet that feels familiar. The surgeon was a woman, I think? Feels familiar being back in a hospital, getting your bits snipped away?”

“What do you want? What more can you possibly take from me?”

She shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean, I could actually snip your dick off, but honestly that’s never really been my thing, you know?”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” he said acidly.

“I actually wanted to offer you something.”

“No.”

“Aw.” She furrowed her brow. “You didn’t even let me explain!”

“There’s nothing you possibly have that I could want. Just leave me alone, please.”

“Oh honey, I think we both know there’s one thing you still want.” She walked up to him, her pussy directly at face height, and lifted her skirt up. Once again, she was pantiless.

Somehow, against all logic, his cock sprang to life. He gasped in pain as it pulled on the stitches in his scrotum. The doctors had warned him about this; he’d still have some remnants of his libido swishing around inside of him, but once the last of his hormones wore off, he’d be limp forever.

“See? You’re still twitching for me. Wow, you’re really hard!”

“You didn’t even let me cum one last time.” She shrugged.

“I told you, that was up to you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but it’s not all bad.”

“Not all bad,” he repeated softly. “You fucking popped my balls.”

“You got to taste my pussy, at least. That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Thanks. How selfless of you.”

“I know. And you were so good at it, Ryan! For your first time ever, you were honestly really impressive.”

“Well, that’s useless now, isn’t it? No point learning to eat pussy if I’m never going to have a girlfriend.”

“That’s not true. I mean, you’re definitely not going to get a girlfriend, but your pussy eating can still be useful.”

She frowned. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d really like it if you came back to the States with me.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?!”

“Well, to be my eunuch slave, of course.” She said it like it was the most obvious conclusion in the world. Ryan gaped at her, but irrationally, something inside him stirred to life.

“I mean, really, Ryan. What do you have left here? Do you have a really important job you need to go back to? A family to take care of? A girl you’ve got a crush on?” He had several of the last, but he knew she included it just to drive home how pointless a crush was for him now. But the rest…His dead end office job wouldn’t miss him. His family lived hours away and they’d never been close.

She was right. He didn’t have much reason to stay, and this was the closest to a life partner he’d ever got. The closest to any woman he’d ever got, really. And she really couldn’t take anything more from him, at this point.

What was he thinking?! He tried to shake himself out of her spell.

“No. Fuck no. It’s another trick. It’s another…you’re going to…”

“What, Ryan? What ‘trick’ can I play on you now? You lost your most vulnerable bits — you’re safe from any real torture.”

She stared at his quivering dick, and bit her lip. “And you know…it is possible for eunuchs to have sex.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not getting pegged, and the doctor said —”

“Oh, fuck the doctor. They don’t know anything about castration around here. I can tell you, from personal experience, some eunuchs can still manage an erection. It’s really rare; I’ve only seen three guys do it after losing their nuts, so that’s about a one in one hundred chance. But…your little guy seems especially active. You might be one of the lucky ones.”

“And I promise you this: If you ever manage to get hard after you’re healed up, I’ll actually let you fuck me.” She leaned over him and stroked his hair. “Of course, Malcolm would still be my main toy, but your tongue is truly something magical. I’ve never had a boy eat me so eagerly, even while I was hurting him. I’d be happy to let you see what real sex would’ve been like, some day, in exchange for your service. Assuming you’re capable, of course. I’m sure it won’t feel as good as it would’ve when you still had all your bits intact, but that’s better than nothing, right?”

“You’re…you’re lying.”

“No, Ryan, I promise. And even if we never have real sex, you will get to eat my pussy as much as you’ll ever want. You’ll never have to be alone or fuck your fist again. I’ve got a spare room; I can take care of you.”

Every reasonable line of thought led him to reject her. He almost certainly wasn’t going to be able to get an erection. If, somehow, what she was saying was true, and he was part of that lucky one percent, she wouldn’t let him fuck her.

But through that, there was still a sliver of a chance of hope. He turned to her, her darkly furred pussy lining up perfectly with his line of sight. Just beneath her hair, he could make out that cleft that had suffocated him twice before castrating him. Even now, it was the only thing he could think about.

“Ok.”

She smiled victoriously down at him, then slid her hand beneath his gown and gently stroked his dick. When he was quivering on the edge yet again, her hand moved lower, and he winced in pain when she made contact with his stitches. She was much gentler with his ballsack now that she’d emptied it, and his anaesthesia still kept most of the pain at bay, but he was still deeply uncomfortable with being touched there. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to feel up his own empty ballsack yet. But he did his best to stay quiet as she rolled the flap of skin that had been his manhood around in her hands.

“Good boy.” With two gentle pats of his groin, she left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.

No recuerdo exactamente dónde leí está historia, se que es aquí en Reddit, trata de un tipo que tiene una novia keyholder, en esa historia los hombres de más de 18 años tienen que tener una dueña l serán castrados y vendidos como esclavos, resulta que la novia decide dejarlo y el,.desesperado, acepta ser el esclavo de dos tipas universitarias que le hacen circuncisión laser, lo maltratan, lo dejan estéril y por último lo castran, después lo dejan ir y se encuentra con su ex (creo que se llama Jessica pero no recuerdo) y se entera de que ella tuvo hijos y castró al padre

Cassandra put her hands on Flynn's chest, squeezed his pecs upward and massaged them around his nipples, then unwrapped her legs from him and pushed away with a hop to the floor. She lightly slapped him and smiled as she walked behind him. He heard a door open, shut, and then her chugging. She walked back into view with a large bottle of grape Gatorade upended at her mouth, face tilted to the ceiling and throat rolling down and up. She drank half of it, lowered the bottle and said, "You want some?"

He nodded quickly. He was thirsty but even if he weren't, something told him he was going to need water and electrolytes later. She put the bottle to his lips and he slowly turned up, closed his eyes at the bright light and she stroked his throat as he swallowed. He finished it, about 32 ounces, and she tossed the bottle behind him bouncing on the floor, then walked back to Steve Alexander, still shivering and squirming in agony that refused to end. That part of his brain was possibly the only part still functioning as it was meant to. She picked up the chair and walked to the next man. He was shaking and sniffling in his cage.

She sat and picked up his clipboard and cleared her throat. "John Fulp!" she announced to the room. "18 years old. Five feet six inches. Hair blond. Eyes pale blue. Crimes. Sedition, one. That's it?" She looked down at him. Every movement she made caused his shivering to increase. He sniffed, then swallowed, then coughed several times. He looked to have hit the gym a few times, but not much. A little muscular and very lanky. No fat at all. She flipped the first page of his dossier over and said, "Detailed. Sniper." He shook in his sling through a long pause, and then heard the clipboard clatter to the floor. She stood and padded away to the far end of the room where she had been talking to someone.

She returned past Flynn with a coffee cup in her left hand and something yellow in her right but didn't bother to show him. She sat by John Fulp again, took a deep breath and sighed. "Hmm." She set the cup down behind him, set the yellow thing on his back, and cupped his balls up behind him in her left hand. He whimpered loudly but she only caressed them, both hands gently, warmly covering them on all sides. Average. A pretty rose-pink. Average dick. Circumcised. She tugged them gently and he was so scared she could see his side shaking to match his breathing. He finally worked up the courage or despair to speak. "Please! I'm sorry! I - it was a stupid move! I swear I won't ever do it again! Resistance is fucking stupid, okay!? I'm just a young kid! I'm not - I - I didn't know any better!" He was sniffling. He still had a boy's voice. A pretty, soft tenor. She did not let his balls go. His sniffles turned into frantic whimpers. He wept in a breaking voice, "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Keep me in prison for the rest of my life!! I understand that! I mean, I deserve it! You don't have to! Please!! Please!! Miss! Please don't crush my balls!! Pleeeease!!!" His voice died away to blubbering. She knew that sound. He was so scared he had sucked his lips in over his teeth and his breath was rattling them.

But she only stroked his balls with her fingers, her palms, all around, tickled his scrotum, slowly slid her fingers up to his taint and kneaded its whole length, from his asshole to his scrotum and down its backside and frontside, fondling his balls. And she got what she wanted. Regardless of his terror, regardless that he had just watched Steve Alexander's face contort through all his Hell - the only man in the room who had seen this - John Fulp's dick had swelled to life and was now rock hard, pointing straight at the floor as she cradled his balls up. She let his balls flop down and his dick sprang up to his belly where it throbbed. "Not a bad dick, John Fulp," she purred. John Fulp was not good at reading tone of voice. He calmed down quite a bit just from those few words. Flynn did not. Flynn had a huge edge. He had seen this woman's eyes. Sex was not the only thing that made her orgasm.

"Too late for genetic enhancement, but a solid seven thick inches. All natural. That impresses me." She paused, then pulled his balls back up and tickled them with her nails, cuddled them, gently stretched his sack, tugging it. His cock was dripping pre-cum now. She could easily get him off just doing this. John Fulp had calmed down very much now. She saw the sudden stillness of his body and laughed a little through her nose. She let his balls drop again and stood, took the yellow thing from his back and walked around between his cage and the next, squatted, giving the next man a view of her ass 3 inches from his nose, a pungent smell of her pussy dripping the floor. John Fulp looked up and met her eyes. What he saw in them told him most of what Flynn knew about her. And John Fulp started shaking again as if he were freezing to death. 

She calmly brought up the yellow thing before his eyes and he watched her unfold it. It was a straight razor with a yellow handle. His eyes widened and his rapid whimpering resumed. He looked up into her eyes and she grinned a little wider. What he saw in her eyes made his heart skip two full beats in spite of the drugs he had been given. She was glaring at him but not in rage. What he beheld in them was brightly gleeful, psychopathic malevolence. Then she winked. 

She stood and padded back behind him.

"NO!! NO!!!! PLEASE!! JESUS CHRIST! LADY!! I'M SORRY!!! I'M SORRY!!!" Adrenaline was enabling him to speak with good coherence while sobbing at the same time. "LOOK! LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!! I NEVER - I WENT - I ONLY WENT ON THREE OR FOUR ROAMING PATROLS!!!" He was screaming up high and thinly like a girl now. "I NEVER KILLED ANYBODY!!! LADY!! LADY!!!!!" She sat in the chair. "I ONLY FIRED LIKE SIX SHOTS AND I DIDN'T FUCKING HIT ANYTHING!!!" She gently cradled up his balls in her left hand. His cock was so hard now that she could see every single vein. Pre-cum streamed in a long line of slime to a quarter-size pool on the floor.

"FOR CHRIST JESUS'S SAKE!!! FUCK!! LADY!! I'M A VIRGIN!!! ALRIGHT!?!?! I'M A GODDAMN VIRGIN!!!! PLEASE!!! GODDAMMIT!!! PLEASE DON'T CUT MY BALLS OFF!!!" His adrenaline reserves ran out just then and everything else he said quaked and rolled through panting blubbery. "P-p-p-LEASE!!! Don't - don't - NO - NNOO! - NNOO! - I WANT MY BALLS!!! P-P-P-PLEASE!!! JESUS FUCK!! M-M-MAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING PRISON RAPE ME!! ANYTHING!! F-F-FFUCKIN F-FEED ME GLASS!! JUST PLEASE DON'T CUT OFF MY BALLS!!! I DIDN'T KILL ANYONE! I SWEAR TO GOD!!!!!!"

The torture Flynn saw her perform most expertly up to this point was when she spoke during the instant of silence between "I SWEAR TO GOD!!!!!" and whatever John Fulp was about to shout next. As if she had known he would say it. As if she were waiting for him to say those words.

Flynn, with wide eyes and shaking head, bore witness to this exchange: 

"I DIDN'T KILL ANYONE! I SWEAR TO GOD!!!!!!"

She quietly purred, "Swear to me," and sliced off John Fulp's balls.

He howled as he felt the first fiery entry of the blade, but in less than half a second the cutting was done. The blade was through and under. The weight of his blood-filled dick swung free and his open mouth of sack trailed after. His dick bopped against his belly. Blood trickled across the floor. 17-year-old virgin John Fulp roared in his dainty tenor voice and the roar reverberated powerfully around the dungeon. All the men's hands were bound too far from their ears so they shied away. His memory played it over in his head and he did not want it to. He had felt a fiery slice, then for only an instant, the fire sparked shockingly electric in his left cord, then in the next instant sparked shockingly electric in his right, then dulled to a searing fiery slice that carried out of his body. That electric, menthol anguish in his cords was overhwelmingly severe but within five seconds was almost gone. What was left was mostly a deep, roasting burn in a straight line across his scrotum.

John Fulp was the right-most victim of this horrible woman. The man to his left had watched her ass leave and John Fulp's face change until now, and now he watched in dismay, disbelief, surreality. This next man had heard the razor blade passing through flesh, the very same sound it would have made passing through a stack of soaking-wet paper. That was the moment the third man winced away, shut his eyes, and now shied from John Fulp's thunderous, adolescent voice.

John Fulp was wailing now, the pitch rising fast from tenor to alto in his chest voice to a softer soprano falsetto. Cassandra stood holding in her left palm his severed balls, sitting half-immersed in blood in the bottom of his severed scrotum, laid the bloody razor open in the chair, then walked around between his cage and the next, squatted, smiled her bright teeth at his guffawing grimace, eyes clenched tight, tears streaming in sheets across his cheeks, bottom lip sucked over his teeth. He wasn't roaring at the height of his falsetto voice in pain or fear. The pain was almost completely gone already. He was roaring in falsetto because the instant the fire finished passing across his scrotum he no longer felt her hand holding his balls. And when his dick flopped back to his belly, he no longer felt the weight of his balls. All he felt down there now was a faint running of fluid.

John Fulp knew certainly that he was a eunuch. A virgin eunuch. He had never had sex. He had never had any kind of sex. And now he never would.

She scrunched up her nose like a rabbit and giggled. She could hear in his weakening falsetto roar why he was crying. Despondent grief. He would never again be able to orgasm. His dick was now a waste of flesh and she chuckled brightly in his face. He heard it and opened his bleary eyes. He could barely discern her shape through his tears. Then he saw her grow larger. His voice stopped. She leaned in, held the top of his cage, and slowly licked her whole tongue across his left eye, licked down his left cheek, swallowed, and then licked his right. He heard a burbly gulp, blinked, and saw her clearly. She blinked him a flirty smile, then pinched his severed sack shut with her right fingers and held it up like a coin purse in front of his eyes.

The entire countenance of his face switched from the disconnected, exhausted interest in why she was there smiling at him to a shocked, dismayed, open-mouthed grimace. His lips drew in and his eyes flooded fresh tears pouring down his face, trickling from his nose, his mouth and his chin, and he screamed a full-voiced, falsetto shatter of great heaves, slowly billowing his voice with his breath, a roiling undulation of sobs. She put her left hand on his head and stroked his hair for a couple seconds, then stood and walked behind him. "Too bad, kiddo."

It took two full minutes for his roaring to dwindle into silent, quaking sorrow filled with tears, but no sound at all. His throat was open as wide as his mouth all the way to his lungs and his face had turned fuschia. He was crying like a little child whose world had come to an end because that is precisely what he was. He sucked in narrow gasps of air and then continued sobbing. His balls were gone. He had never fucked. He had no idea what the inside of a vagina felt like, and now never would.

It was not until he went silent that she resumed. She had plopped his ball sack into the coffee cup near his foot, walked back to Flynn and retrieved the burdizzo, and now sat in the chair waiting. When his sorrow was just heaving silence interspersed with gasps, she spread the maw of his sack wide, reached up in with the burdizzo and settled it around his right cord flush against his pelvis.

He whimpered a little then. He was despondent at his new life: his new life was an absolute absence of sex at an age when that was all he really wanted; and he had never had any. She clamped down. A celery crunch. John Fulp's quiet heaves shuddered up to a soft squeal. He was inhaling. His body jolted in the cage and his lower legs rattled the open tubes they were shackled in. She opened the burdizzo slid it down one inch and clamped it shut again. That horrid crunch made Flynn grit his teeth. John Fulp's keening squeal remained the same. His shuddering remained the same. He didn't feel that one.

She opened the burdizzo and set it up high against his pelvis around his left cord, clamped it shut and he yowled. Flynn sighed away at the sound of Fulp's voice then. That yowling sound he had made was one of pure pain. His desperate horror at now being a eunuch, a virgin eunuch, had just then been disrupted by exquisitely severe agony searing with a minty blaze out of his left spermatic cord.

She opened and slid it down one inch and crunched his cord shut. His bleeding had stopped for the most part. His sack still dripped the floor. She stood and padded past Flynn who, in petrified fear, moved only his eyes, mouth ajar, as he watched her go, and reappeared with a triage staple gun. She sat behind John Fulp, folded in the bloody edges of his sack, then folded them up, pinched it shut with her left fingers and stapled it at the right corner. The grieving sorrow in his voice was interrupted by a weak yelp. She stapled again. Another yelp. And so on until she closed his sack around the bare ends of his spermatic cords. He would bleed for two to three hours, but not much.

Cassandra set the staple gun on the floor, picked up the coffee cup and walked back to Flynn. Her eyes exuded pure, raging vibrance. A fuming, emotionless joy. This woman was in her element and could not possibly be happier. She stooped before him, tipped the cup into her left hand, set the cup on the floor, then stood and held her hand open before him. Flynn saw what was inside a man's scrotum. He saw two bluish-white testicles sitting in the blood at the bottom of John Fulp's nutsack. Cassandra smiled and picked one out by its cord. "I'll eat one. You eat the other."

He gasped...then slowly realized that it would be okay for him to shake his head. He shook his head. 

She nodded with a blink and said, "Yes, you will." He slowly exhaled a shaky breath and shivered. He gulped and pleaded with his eyes.

"It's an acquired taste you haven't acquired, but it won't kill you. I want you to chew it up really well before you swallow it. The outer part is called the tunica albuginea and it's like gristle. You can chew it and chew it and chew it, but when the insides burst out, they'll taste like bitter milk. You don't have to eat the skin!" She squeezed the testicles into her right palm then tossed the bottom of John Fulp's scrotum away to the left. Flynn heard it hit the floor. He regarded her as a prey animal in a snare regards its approaching captor. His stomach rumbled. She glanced at it then sighed and said, "If you swallow it whole or spit it out, or if you throw it up, I promise I'll make you VERY sorry." She grinned. He knew she meant it, but she seemed as if she didn't mean anything by it. He got the feeling that punishment was business to her, even if she did enjoy it. If he didn't break her rules, she wouldn't punish him. She took one testicle by the stump of cord and held it in front of his lips. "Open, Flynn."

He took a deep, wincing breath, and finally nodded. Her grin widened. He opened his mouth and she set a human testicle on his tongue. He closed his mouth. "I'll be right here with you."

He tasted coppery blood but nothing else. The testicle rested on his tongue. He did not dare move. She laughed and dropped the other one in her mouth, swished it under her right molars, crunched down and he heard a hideous splashing sound in her mouth. Her ball had popped like a tomato. She chewed it a few times, then opened her mouth so he could see what nut mush looked like. It was light orange, almost like a pureed sweet potato. He didn't expect that. She closed her eyes and swallowed. He shook his head a little and suddenly quivered down to his feet as he watched her throat roll down then up. She licked her lips. The hair of his forearms was on end.

Then she almost sang, "Go ahead and chew it up!" She batted her eyes and giggled.

He felt his throat convulsing in a gag and quickly leaned forward a little to do so. He curled his tongue up to hold the ball on it. He didn't want it to plop against his teeth. "It's going to be disgusting, but you can do it!" He panted through his nose as the nut rested on his tongue. He couldn't taste it. 

He shivered. He lurched forward again and gagged. He didn't want to swallow it by accident. The ball rested on his tongue. He closed his eyes, shifted it between his right molars, drew a slow, deep breath, and chomped down. It deformed to about one-third its normal size, then splatted apart like a very tough-walled fruit. Whatever was inside a testicle squirted across his tongue. It was abhorrently bitter. It almost reminded him of Southern Comfort and pure Everclear mixed. He had tried both straight so he could imagine the mixture. Neither tasted good. He gagged, lurched over, scrunched up his face and grunted through his nose.

"Don't spit!" she purred. "Don't puke!" She chuckled as he took another deep breath and then boldly chewed and chewed and chewed, juicy smacking noises muffled by his lips.

"There you go! Swish it around! I want you to really taste it!" His eyes watered but he swished his tongue through the vile, bitter pulp of John Fulp's testicle, and then she said, "Alright, that's enough. Swallow! Take a deep breath first then swallow it as fast as you can!"

He did just that before she finished speaking, and as his food passed over the back of his tongue where the bitter taste buds are, he grimaced and grunted hard. The ground-up, ragged gristle that was John Fulp's testicular wall tickled its way down his esophagus. She frowned as his abs flexed and she quickly turned his mouth straight up at the ceiling and held him steady with both hands. "Keep your mouth shut no matter what happens! It's coming back up but only a little! You just keep swallowing! Do NOT open your mouth!" The gag was so heavy he clenched his eyes shut and tears squirted over his cheeks. He'd gotten it down but it was trying hard to come back up. She pinched his nose shut tight and massaged his throat downward. His Adam's Apple came up just past halfway and he shivered out a high-pitched groan.

Then his stomach finally rumbled and she sighed a grin as his Adam's Apple slowly descended.

It was over. He swallowed four more times but felt no reaction. "Open your mouth!" she purred and he did. He lifted his tongue. There was nothing inside. Flynn Fitzherbert had eaten a man's testicle. He met her eyes and his mouth quivered. He really was about to burst into shrill, whimpery tears. "D'awww!" she said and kissed him, slathering her bitter tongue over his. He didn't gag. His stomach made no noise. She pressed her hands to his cheeks and held him to her and they tasted each other's tongues, their cheeks, their teeth and swished their salivas together until his trembling stilled.

Then she sucked away and gazed into his pretty eyes. She was smiling but what she said came out in a clotted, throaty growl. "Time for Number Three!"

He swallowed and felt thick, slimy mucus coating his throat, thicker and slimier than if he had swallowed raw eggs, and then realized it wasn't mucus. It was why her growl sounded so gargly. Their throats were coated with testicle mash.

FOURSOME by ED

I could hardly believe it was happening, I was on my way to meet with three women for a foursome of great sex. I found the threesome by answering an ad on one of those internet personals and after a couple of e-mails, we had set up today as the day to do it. The house was in the country deep in the woods, not a sign of any other people for miles. I went up to the door and rang the bell. A women answered the door and asked me in. There in the living room were two more who came over to greet me. We all introduced ourselves and got to know a little about each other. They were all good lookers. Jill was 28 and slim, Mary was 30 and a little heavy by sexy looking and Cathy was 32 and also a little heavy but sexy. After a few minutes, Jill said that we should all go down in the basement to the playroom and really get to know each other. My heart started pounding, I could hardly wait. As soon as we got downstairs, all three women removed all their clothes in an instant then came over to me and started undressing me as I looked around the room. It was finished with carpet on the walls and tile on the floor except for a large red throw rug in the middle. Once I was naked Cathy suggested that I lay on the rug and we all got down on the floor. Mary got between my legs and started massaging my balls. Jill sat on my stomach with her back towards me an ran her fingers up and down my cock. Cathy started running her fingers around my body. It only took seconds and I was throbbing hard. Mary said my balls were getting tight and Jill could see some pre-cum on my cock head, Cathy said that they should stop before I cum too soon. Cathy went over to a table and brought back some cord and tape. I asked what it was for and Cathy explained that they, the women, did not like rubbers or shoving anything up their pussy, that they liked doing it natural. Cathy said that they also didn't want to get pregnant so they were going to tie my balls off to stop the sperm. I laughed and said that doesn't work. But Cathy proceeded to tell me that it did work if done right. I figured what's the difference if it makes them happy, I was ready for sex and was game for anything. Cathy got down between my legs and got a grip on my balls. Then she slowly pulled streching the sack enough so Jill could start wrapping the cord tight above my balls. Jill wrapped the thin cord about ten times tight and tied it off. Then Jill got the tape and wrapped tape over the cord. I asked what the tape was for and Cathy said it was to make sure the cord did not untie itself. I looked down at my balls tight in their tied sack and thought that it actually felt erotic. I asked if they wern't tied too tight because of my balls turning red but Cathy told me not to worry, they wouldn't be tied all that long. Cathy got up and positioned her pussy over my hard cock and slowly sat down, god it felt great. Up and down she went, slow at first then faster. She watched my face and after a few minutes saw I was close to cumming and got up. Then Jill pulled me over on top of her and said it was her turn, I slid my cock into her pussy and started pumping. After a few minutes Mary came over and pulled me off Jill and said don't forget me. Mary laid me on my back and sat on my cock and worked me some more. This went on for about an hour with each one stopping just before I would cum, I was going nuts, I just had to cum. Then Cathy said that it was time for me to get mine so she had Jill lay on the floor legs spread, I mounted Jill and Cathy and Mary got behind me. Cathy said she was going to massage and squeeze my balls to get me off and Mary would help. I was so excited, I started pumping as hard as I could as I felt Mary squeezing my balls. I could feel the pressure building up in my balls as my cock seemed to get bigger than it ever had when Jill started cumming letting out moans of pleasure. I could hear Cathy say it's time and gave my balls a pull and squeeze, I felt a burning sensation in my balls and I cummed like I never cummed before. I looked at Jills face, she was looking back at Cathy with an ear to ear smile as I slowed down thrusting my still hard cock. Jill asked me how it felt and I said it felt great like I never felt it before. Cathy got up and grabbed my hand, she tells me that it will never feel like that again and puts into my hand my severed balls, she had castrated me just as I started cumming. I jumped up and looked at my crotch and sure enough, all there was left was part of the tape which was holding my skin closed, some blood was dripping out but nothing bad. All the women got up and held me thanking me for fullfilling their life long fantasy. Then they asked me how it felt and I explained the feeling at the moment I know the knife went through. I could see they were enjoying what I was explaining, then they told me how Cathy held my balls tight as Mary sliced down the middle of the tape through the ball sack. I was still hard and Cathy and Mary had not cummed. Jill got in front of me and put her hand around my cock and started stroking it. Cathy and Mary get on each side of me and they all pull me down to the floor. Cathy has me mount her, I thrust my cock into her pussy and in seconds she cums. Mary pulls me off Cathy and brings her pussy down on my still hard cock and works it up and down until she also cums. Lying on the floor, the women inspect with satisfaction their castration. They all agree I have a nice cock and how much they enjoyed it. Later, I have been stiched up and cleaned leaving to go home and as I am walking out the door I hear Cathy at the computer say, oh look, John has e-mailed that he can make it this Saturday.