Surrendering My Balls

How and why was I in this situation, only those of you who crave the same fun can understand.

I was a 32 year old marketing executive, beautiful wife, but with a craving for the dark side of B&D and even S&M that my All-American lifestyle did not include. The feeling of helplessness, of fear, and of humiliation that are not a part of "normal" peoples lives. Increasingly that feeling could not come from the string of dominatrix's that I had visited. While being tied up, forced to lick a woman's shoe, have nasty clamps attached to many sensitive parts of my body, whipped and paddled, and finally forced to masturbate and perhaps swallow my own cum did work for awhile, I needed to get to the next level but had no idea how. I needed to move from feeling like I was playing a game to some genuine fear.

A business trip to San Francisco, always a destination I eagerly anticipate, did not give me any reason to suspect that things were going to change soon. After a day of meetings I took a walk through the Union Square area, and picked up a local newspaper to see if I could find an interesting destination for my evenings fun. After flipping through ads for local clubs I came to the classified ads section. Many were routine escort ads describing impossibly beautiful women for hire. Some advertised dominant services, as usual causing a slight tingling in my lower regions. I was especially intrigued by the ads for several Asian mistresses, a novelty not often available on the east coast, and considered making a call. It was then that the ad jumped out at me. EXCRUCIATING. Extreme genital torture for men only. The ad shook me to my core. I kept reading it over and over. As I read further into the paper I kept coming back to it, and felt my heart race and breathing quicken each time I read it. I knew that this described that new plateau I needed, beyond having your butt paddled crimson. Genital torture, the thought makes you feel so vulnerable, so helpless. It goes to the core of vulnerability as a man. Just reading the ad had me sweating, but it also had created an uncomfortable bulge in my pants and a rapidly spreading spot of pre-cum on my underwear. However, there was a catch. Excruciating. Extreme genital torture for men only. Call Roger.

I am not gay, or even bi-sexual. I have never found a man to be even remotely attractive. I soon found myself imagining a submissive scene with a guy, and found the added humiliation of submitting to a man starting to turn me on even more. I dialed the phone. Roger sounded like any average guy, well spoken, articulate, intelligent. I described my interests to him, and he listened enthusiastically.

He then described a life-long fascination with genital torture, particularly torturing a guy's balls. "As long as I can remember, punishing a guys balls makes my dick hard", is how Roger described his obsession. We talked about safety and safe sex issues, and set a time for the following night. I was terrified at what I had gotten myself into, but was also unbearably aroused. I couldn't even imagine what I had signed up for, and was somewhat disgusted at the thought of being forced to submit to a guy. The next 24 hours were filled with a constant flip flop between not showing up, and unbearable curiosity. Finally I found myself standing outside the Castro area address, and knew that decision time was now. I rang the bell.

Roger was a regular looking guy. On the short side, stocky and muscular, 40ish. He greeted me with a firm handshake and a warm hello. He showed me into a spare room with two directors chairs, a small table on which we set cold drinks, and a massive king sized bed. The bed had the largest posts at each corner I had ever seen in a bed frame, at least 8"x 8". Each post had a heavy steel ring attached. The post and ring combination could easily hold back livestock. I started to sweat. It was obvious that once I allowed myself to be attached to those rings, my balls were totally at the mercy of this man I had just met.

My fears were not assuaged when I asked what he used for safewords. Roger looked amused, and said, "I don't really use them. As far as I'm concerned, the dick doesn't lie. If I'm into a scene and the dick stays hard, I keep going. If the dick starts going down, I go a different direction." Despite all evidence to the contrary, Roger seemed like a normal, intelligent guy and I felt I could trust him. When he said it was time to get undressed, I followed his instructions. This was when my first shock came, as Roger stood and quickly removed all of his clothing as well. I was now naked in the presence of another naked man, a situation I had been in many times, but was suddenly incredibly disturbing when the setting was not a locker room but a bedroom for the purpose of sexual pleasure. I was near panic when Roger instructed me to lay face up in the center of the bed, and then he climbed on top of me. I didn't know what to do, and froze as Roger just laid on top of me. After a long silence, Roger instructed me to put my arms around him. We laid in that position for several minutes. Finally Roger got up and started attaching leather bracelets around my wrists and ankles. He carefully attached each limb to one of the massive posts, and I was now spread quite tightly and securely to the bed. Rogers muscular body loomed over me, with his above average sized cock semi hard. I had no idea what to expect, and was legitimately afraid for the first time in a D&S scene.

Roger next made the whole safeword issue moot, as he worked a ball gag into my mouth and buckled it behind my head. My cock was pointing skyward, a fact I found terribly embarrassing in the presence of a man. Roger made note of this as he climbed off the bed, slapping my erection a little harder than I would have preferred. "God didn't do you any favors, did he?" noted Roger about my 5 inch erection. "Doesn't matter, big or small, they all hurt the same."

Roger approached the bed with what appeared to be a two headed electric massager. He told me that this first device would make me feel uncomfortable, but shouldn't hurt. For the next ten minutes the massager buzzed loudly as Roger cupped my balls and worked the massage heads all over and around my testicles. Just as he predicted, the sensation was uncomfortable and a little achy, but not painful. Still I was relieved when Roger finally shut the device off. I breathed deeply for a few minutes and rested. Roger busied himself with our next device.

Before I could see what our next round of fun would entail, Roger cupped my balls and started bouncing them lightly in his hand. My dick was rock hard and drooling a little. In his other hand Roger held something that induced nothing short of terror in me, a blindfold. Without asking me, he slipped it over my eyes and the room went black. I was scared of what could be happening on the other side of the blindfold, and tried to express my fear. The ball gag made sure that all I could do was make a mmmmff sound. I could hear chains rattling, and a device being fitted to my balls. Roger told me to flatten my back and lift my hips so that my balls were lifted up high. He explained that it makes the pain more bearable for reasons that he has never understood. I complied as I felt something tighten around my balls. Roger next ordered me to count to five slowly. The sound of me counting was amusing, as the ball gag muffled each word. As I counted, a discomfort in my balls would gradually increase, and at five I would gasp for air and focus on the throbbing. Eventually, the pain would level off and become bearable. Roger would then order me to start the counting process over. This process was repeated five times. By the third time I was hoping we would stop, at five times the throbbing was unbearable. I started grunting and my hips bucked, which only caused the device to bounce and increase the throbbing. Roger was laughing. He leaned over and said in a low voice, "Wanna see the fun we've been having?" The blindfold was pulled off, and Roger lifted my head with one hand. With his other hand he lifted a chain. Attached to one end of the chain was a pair of clear Lucite 6" x 6" panels with bolts in each corner. Wingnuts on the bolts controlled how snug the panels got. Sandwiched between the Lucite panels were my grotesquely flattened balls. The sight was horrifying, and Roger knew the effect it would have on me. I sucked air desperately through my gag, panicked by the sight of my flattened balls. Despite the pain, my fear, and my feeling of panic, my cock was rigidly erect. As Roger started to loosen the wingnuts he continued to chuckle. The sight of my intense erection fascinated me, as I was becoming acutely aware of how turned on I was despite the abuse my balls were taking. With my wrists still tightly bound, I now became aware for the first time that Roger not only was free to do what he wanted with my private parts, but he also controlled my increasing sexual need. This frightened me as Roger was also sporting an intense erection of his own that was significantly larger than mine, indicating he might soon be demanding more than just free access to my nuts.

Roger however, was nowhere near done using my balls as playtoys. A bracelet was attached around my scrotum above my balls, forcing my now swollen and tender balls into a tightly stretched lower portion of my nutsack. As I watched in horror, he pulled out a wooden kitchen spoon. He announced the new game, fifty lovetaps per testicle with me counting out loud. As he detailed my instructions, he was unsnapping the ball gag. As the ball popped free, I slowly started to flex my aching jaw. The aching jaw became secondary though as the spoon rapped my left testicle, after a few seconds the spoon rapped a second time.

"Since you can't seem to count, we will have to start over." Roger chuckled. The rapping started over. Each rap was consistent in severity, but the spacing was erratic. Sometimes there would be a ten second or more gap between raps, sometimes there would be three or four in rapid succession. At thirty raps, my left nut was ached like never before, and pain radiated through my abdomen. I tried to block out the pain and keep my complete focus on counting, knowing I could not survive starting over. I gritted my teeth through the last ten, and at fifty I felt jubilation, and intense pain. I writhed silently on the bed, sweat pored off my body. I temporarily forgot about Roger, so focussed was I on the ache in my groin. As the pain slowly subsided I started to become aware of Roger's presence in the room. He was kneeling over me, spoon in hand, grinning. His now condom covered dick jutted upward at a 45 degree angle. It was much larger than my cock, and looked as much like a weapon as anything else in the room. I suddenly realized my right testicle was due for it's fifty whacks. I started to beg that we not go forward with the spoon game. Roger listened bemusedly, and idly stroked his hard-on a few times. He finally asked, "Are we ready to start counting?" I knew that it was a rhetorical question.

The thumping started again, and followed the same erratic pattern. I counted each thump out loud, gasping between each one. At thirty, it seem like he had been beating my right testicle forever, and yet there was still forever to go. Roger paused for a moment and eyed my sweat soaked body. He looked toward the end of the bed, I tried to see what he was looking at. Without warning the spoon slapped my nut again while I was distracted. Somehow, the pain was much worse when I wasn't prepared. I gasped, just barely remembering to count 31 , Roger laughed heartily. "Surprised you, didn't I." My balls, snug when the bracelet was first snapped on my scrotum, had now stretched the skin super tight as they swelled to fill their package. Roger gave me another swat, and said, "What do you say we get these last few over with."

Eighteen rapid drumbeats rained down on my captive testicle in machine gun fashion, I gritted my teeth and barked out the numbers. I settled into an overwhelming ache after the last blow, and could only focus on the radiating pain. I was unaware, and uncaring, of Rogers activities as tried to surf down the slope of slowly diminishing pain. After what seemed like hours, I opened my eyes to find Roger laying on his side next to me. He was enjoying watching my pain induced dance, and was masturbating in a lazy fashion. He noticed me watching his nonchalant handjob, and glancing at my own rock hard and drooling cock said, "I bet you wish you could do this about now too, huh. Let's see if I have something that can help that little dick of yours get even harder."

Despite the ache in my groin, my state of arousal had me feeling quite desperate. I had no idea what Roger had in mind, but felt genuine fear of being forced to endure even more intense arousal with no ability to get myself off. I felt a swell of envy for this man with a much larger cock who could get off anytime he wanted, and an intense humiliation at being forced to become desperately turned on at the hands of a man. For a moment, the throbbing in my balls was secondary to the complete control of me Roger now had because of my rock hard erection. Roger now approached me with a tube of KY Jelly, and what I quickly recognized as a cock ring. He lubed the ring thoroughly, and then set it lightly on the tip of my cockhead as he gently held my dick. My cock jerked involuntarily. Roger gripped the ring with two fingers and his thumb, and in one expert motion shoved it all the way down to the base of my cock. Immediately my cock bulged out around the ring. Having worn a ring before, I knew very well what was going to happen. Fitted correctly as this ring most definitely was, it dramatically restricts the flow of blood out of the erect cock. This has two building effects. The cock becomes grotesquely swollen with a much more intense erection. It also turns the cock a reddish purple. You feel as if you are going to burst. Left in place, it becomes a very slow and difficult process to lose your erection, often keeping you hard without stimulation for an hour or more. This intense erection also makes you crave ejaculation in a way you never have before.

Once before a kinky girlfriend had invited me back to her apartment. She invited me into her bedroom, pulled her sweater over her head, and asked me to undress. Once I was undressed, she handcuffed my wrists behind my back. She slid a cockring on my semi-hard dick and stroked me to full erection in a way that was effective but without any passion or even interest. Not understanding the effect of the cockring, I enjoyed the view as she stood before me in tight jeans and a black lace bra. She leaned over and whispered, "I'm going to enjoy this alot more than you tonight." I didn't know what she meant, but was enjoying the view of her full 36C breasts overflowing her bra. She caught my gaze, and covered her cleavage with her hand. Glancing at my raging erection, she said "I see these have done their work for the evening." I groaned as she reached for a top, and pulled on a tight t-shirt. She took out a Polaroid camera and quickly took several pictures over my protests. Without any explanation she produced a tape measure, and measured my erection in a very business like fashion. She wrote 5 1/16" on the back of a photo and chuckled. By now the cock ring was taking it's toll, and my breathing was becoming ragged. As my hips began moving rhythmically I started to tire of this game, and was anxious to get my tool somewhere warm and wet. She then told me what my fate would be. I was not allowed to see or touch those magnificent breasts, not now, not ever. Further, from now on I could only pleasure her with my tongue . My sexual pleasure, when it was allowed, would only come from my own hand, and only if she was completely happy with my performance.

She sat and watched, laughing as I was panting and unconsciously humping the air. Since it was obvious to both of us who was in control, she had assumed a very authoritarian air. Her next instructions were very specific, say one word without permission and you don't get off tonight. While I had never seen her like this before, I knew she was serious. I was ordered to my knees, and forced to lick pussy for an hour. A kitchen timer ticked off the minutes while the cockring enhanced hardon hammered away, my jaw and knees ached. She writhed through orgasm after orgasm. At the end of an hour I begged like never before as she sprawled before me, laughing and casually smoking a cigarette. The timer was set again, and I spent fifteen minutes doing the one thing I had told her I would never do, working my tongue into her asshole until she got off for about the tenth time that night. The bitter taste didn't leave my mouth for hours. She then set the same kitchen timer for another twenty minutes so I could stare at my grossly swollen and discolored cock, and think about what a gift it would be if she allowed me to get off. This gave her time to set up the video camera, and film me contorting as I knelt on the floor jerking myself to a mind shattering orgasm. Half an hour later, the ring finally came off my slowly shrinking, aching dick.

The video tape ensured that all future sex between us consisted of me licking pussy until she was sated, then leaving with a hard cock and damp underwear. I never did reach that threshold of pleasing her to the point she would allow me to jerk off, and was told I never would with a 5" dick. She loved to tell me about the size of other lovers, pointing out that my undersized cock reached barely half way to my navel. She would reach under her shirt a caress her breasts as the talk of large penises obviously aroused her. I could only dream of how those full, firm breasts and hard nipples felt. She would enjoy a post coital cigarette and tell me of other lovers who were 8 inches or more, and extended well beyond their navel when erect. One time she even showed me a photo of a "friend" she was screwing regularly, as he proudly displayed an enormous hard-on. It was more than twice as long as my cock on it's best day and appeared to be as thick as a soda can. Her only complaint was that she couldn't fit all of it in her, and his incredible stamina often left her sore. As I stared in open mouthed amazement she laughed. She pushed her breasts together creating enormous cleavage and said, "You better believe he gets to touch these anytime he wants." I moaned in frustration, as it was her large breasts that had first attracted me to her and they were now strictly off limits. I continued to stare at the photo, deeply envious of his enormous tool and the effect it must have on women. I knew that my small endowment never inspired anything but disappointment, while his created jaw-dropping lust. "Do you always get this turned on staring at a big dick," she asked as she nudged my rock hard cock. To my horror, my cock had stood straight up as I stared at the picture. "I guess everyone likes a huge hard-on," she laughed, "but neither of us will ever know what it's like to have one."

This memory flooded back as I stared at my darkening and bulging member. I knew that not only was I at the mercy of this man who loved to punish my balls, but this simple ring would quickly turn me into a panting, desperate sex slave. The process was inevitable, and I was helpless to stop it. It made no difference that my owner was now a muscular guy with an 8" cock, he controlled when and if I would get off that evening. The cockring was quickly making getting off the only thing that mattered to me. As my hardon throbbed, Roger busied himself with black attaché like device, pulling from the case two wires that he attached to the bracelet that was still wrapped around my scrotum. I watched with intense curiosity, and couldn't help noticing how bizarre my groin now looked. My nuts, swollen and purplish looking, were cinched tight in their nutsack, wires running from their bracelet captor. My cock was grotesquely swollen and scarlet, with pre-cum oozing in a steady slick over the head.