Yo Yo Chronicles Ch 01 Ending

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No way! I'm keeping my balls! - my ending to edrider73's Yo-yo Chronicles Ch.01

http://www.literotica.com/s/yo-yo-chronicles-ch-01

I don't normally do this. I like to finish incomplete stories that have been abandoned, for years, or stories that have open invitations to be completed. I request permission out of respect for the original authors, and if denied, I don't post a continuation.

edrider73's story drove me a little crazy, when the second 'chapter' had nothing to do with the first. I know it affected many others that way, I received three different requests to 'Finish the Damn Story'!

cpete wrote a completion for both chapters, and did a fine job. I had already started this one, and now with edrider73's permission, I'm going to post it. I'm working on a continuation of the second chapter, but it's started to get away from me, building into something longer and complex, and even something surprising, which will be revealed when I post that one.

The immediate revenge in this one is over the top, but the longer term response is more calculated, and something I'm sure Duna will approve of. No more hints.

There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed, or left hanging with disgusting endings. If I find a story that's been abandoned for too long, I'll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don't write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.

For Information on how I choose which stories to continue, please read my profile.

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I had ten seconds. That's what she said. Ten seconds, that was all. The warning tug on my balls reminded me.

There was no way I was going through with her plan. The whole bathroom thing was to give myself time to think. To try to figure out when my wife had lost her mind. I suffered the humiliation of having a man-hating cunt shove a nozzle up my ass and give me an enema, twice, while I struggled to understand what had happened.

I had tried to tell my wife it was a fantasy, that I had no interest in making it real. It was something to do while I was away. I went through phases. If I didn't have the browser history automatically deleted every 30 days, she would have seen me checking out mother/son videos. Not that I ever wanted to do anything with my Mom. Before that it had been amateur wife cuckolding. Did that mean I wanted her to cuckold me? Hell no! I pictured myself in the role of the bull, not the cuck.

Why couldn't she understand the difference between fantasy, curiosity and things you actually want to experience?

I had told her I didn't want her degrading herself. That I didn't want to do it. That she'd hate it, and I'd hate myself for going along. That it would likely destroy our marriage.

While cleansing my bowels, her words echoed in my mind. "I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do..." I had finally hesitantly agreed because I believed she wanted to do it, and she had put so much effort into arranging it. She wanted to experience it once, and I told her,

told

her, that she had to tell me to stop if it got to be too much.

Now, here she was, after the fact, changing all the rules. She

was

forcing me. She didn't allow me the choice of what was too much or what wasn't. I didn't get to choose the acts, as she had done. I didn't set the time limits. What we had done was consensual, between two married people who supposedly loved each other.

Now she wanted me raped. She was forcing me into gay sex, which was never anything I'd been interested in. Not in this fucking lifetime! The insane bitch was threatening me with castration, and putting the means of it in the hands of a butch lesbian man-hater. Of course her little surprises along the way, the 'after-the-fact' rule changes, like I wasn't supposed to come, were more proof of how deceitful, disgusting and hateful she'd become.

I guess I was wrong all along. I thought we were alike. Now I knew differently. I never would have forced her to do anything. I couldn't dream of it. I never would have involved outsiders. I certainly wouldn't think about having her raped!

I'd looked for an opportunity to break free of Myra in the bathroom, but she'd been twitchy, standing at a distance, keeping a constant pressure on that thin line wrapped around my balls. I wasn't about to let Jory pull this shit. I'd let her tear my balls off before I did, but I was hoping for a more painless resolution, at least for me.

The opportunity hadn't arisen, and now I was sitting on the edge of the bed, next to the hairy big dick bastard who'd willingly signed on to rape me, while that ugly dyke held the string tied to my sack. String, who the fuck was she kidding? It was my own Spiderwire, monofilament fishing line that looked like green string, with three times the strength of normal fishing line the same thickness. The bitch wouldn't pull my balls off, the damn line would slice right through the skin!

Ten seconds, that's all I had.

I turned to my soon to be ex-wife, and shrugged. "I can't believe you're forcing me to do this. This is no longer a fantasy. I guess you think you're smart, leaving me no choice. How you could want to humiliate and debase me like this, I don't understand." I stood, turning my body toward her as I stood and moved between Barclay's legs.

She pointed to her ears, reminding me she was wearing earplugs.

I watched Myra feed out the line, loosening it so it wouldn't show in the shot. By turning my body, I'd gotten a little extra slack. I tried to shut my mind down, as I leaned over the bastard's body. "Get a good shot baby. It will be the last. I'll be divorcing you after this." I told Jory, looking over at her. I placed one arm over the guy's shoulder looking down into his face.

"I don't want to do this. It's rape. I'm not giving my consent. Are you really going to be a rapist?" My other hand reached down and rubbed his cock. "What kind of bonus did she offer you?"

He grinned. "Relax man. You'll enjoy it eventually. You may think it's rape, but before I'm done you'll be begging me for it. The cool thing is every segment I hold off, I get a night with her, and we get to try it again. A hell of an incentive, huh?"

I peeked over and saw Jory filming, nipples hard in anticipation. I turned my head to face her. "Perfect. You want to make me a cuckold on top of everything else." I rubbed my cock against his, and saw him smile. Even Myra peeked up from under the bed for a better view.

"Jory?" I said softly, moving my hand from between my legs to run it down the poor bastard's chest. I knew she couldn't hear me because of the earplugs. I needed the stupid fucker underneath me to get used to my touch.

She moved closer, camera in hand, smiling, gesturing toward her ears.

"Please tell me this is all a lie. Tell me you're not going to let this guy rape me. Assure me you're not going to cheat on me with this asshole. You wouldn't

really

let Myra tug that string tied to my balls would you? It's 10 lb fishing line, it'll slice them off." As I said the words my free hand reached down to the line, and looped it stealthily around his cock, two, three, four times, twisting each loop once before dropping it to the base of his cock. As much as it disgusted me, I tried to make it feel like I was stroking him, as I moved each loop to the base of his swollen prick.

My wife gesticulated toward her ears, while Myra chuckled, her evil voice rising from below. "I'm looking forward to tearing them off, you pig," Jory's vicious accomplice said.

"I loved you, Jory. I can't believe you hate me this much," I told her before driving my stiff fingers into the reclining man's throat as powerfully as I could.

It was a blur of activity after that. He gurgled and grunted, his hands releasing his legs, and moving to his throat. I brought a hammer-fist down on his nose with all my might, and watched the blood spurt. Jory screamed, dropped the camera and stumbled backward. Moments later I felt pressure against my balls, and Barclay shrieked like a little girl. He started squirming, trying to push me off. Jory was yanking the earplugs out of her ears, screaming even louder.

Myra pulled on the string with both hands, a look of fear and shock on her face. "Go ahead. Castrate me! Give it your best you ugly bitch!" I snarled at her.

She gave another fierce tug, and when the only one that shrieked was Barclay, she finally dropped the string, and started trying to wiggle out from under the bed.

No, the bitch didn't get away that easily. I kicked her in the face a couple of times and she crawled back under the bed to get away from the vicious blows, moaning. Once she had, I leaned over, grabbed the headboard and pulled it down and away from the wall with all my strength.

The anger, fear and adrenaline did the job. The bed did precisely what I'd hoped for, separating the frame from the headboard, and dropping the frame and mattress down on the woman, and I use that term loosely, who'd tried her best to take my balls. She screamed in agony.

Barclay was in trouble. Big trouble. I stepped back, and saw his over-sized dick was now a one inch stub, pumping his life blood away. I quickly grabbed the line, to protect myself. Then I jumped on the bed, twice, before hopping off the far side.

"You might want to call 911," I told Jory. "Or your dyke girlfriend is probably going to be up for murder when the wannabe rapist bleeds out." It took a few seconds before I was able to free the string from my balls. "That'll make you an accomplice, you hateful, evil cunt."

"Ken! Please..." Jory whimpered, stepping toward me. I stiff armed the bitch, knocking her back on her ass, before picking up the camera off the floor. I stopped by the other three cameras, removing their SD cards, and wielding the tripods like a staff, slammed them into the walls destroying them. I tossed the broken remains into the walk-in closet before shutting the door.

I locked the door to the bathroom, and started the shower. I had the eunuch's blood all over me. Ignoring the crimson mess for the moment, I tenderly rubbed my balls, while I started replaying the video.

As much as I hated to do it, I erased the first video. The one showing all the things I'd done with Jory. All I had was the final scene, explaining what she was trying to do. It had only taken a couple of minutes for it all to play out, and the dropped camera footage was gold. The camera had landed on its side, and it showed Myra tugging firmly, and then desperately at the string, while capturing all the screaming. It was shooting directly under the bed, and you got to see her start to climb out, then wriggle back under, without seeing me kick her face.

I snapped the other SD cards in half and flushed them down the toilet. I flushed a second time to make sure they were gone.

I started up the camera, and cleaned myself, with the video recording merrily away, pointed at a blank wall. I could hear the yelling, screaming, cursing and crying going on in the bedroom. Once I stepped out from under the shower head, and started drying myself off, I heard my wife's voice pleading from behind the door.

"I'm sorry!" she kept screaming. "I wouldn't have let her really hurt you. She knew she wasn't supposed to pull the string that hard. I love you, Ken. I'm sorry!"

"You were going to have that bastard rape me," I told her loudly rubbing my hair dry.

"It was only fair! I let you do those things to me."

"That's the difference. It was

your

idea to do them with you. You let me, you told me to do it. It was just you and me. You could trust me, I would never intentionally hurt you. The first time you said stop, I would have."

"I didn't want to do them. I hated the idea. I suggested it for you."

Keep digging your grave, bitch!

"How could you think I'd want a man to ass-rape me? I've never hinted I was interested in a man!"

"I couldn't do it!" she yelled.

"You couldn't have used a strap on?" I reminded her.

She was quiet a moment. "I guess I could have, but then I couldn't play that game with trying to make you come for me."

I opened the door, hearing the sirens outside. My wife was lying on the floor sobbing, the phone at her side. Myra was under the bed, moaning, but no longer moving. Barclay was curled up in a ball, whimpering, his hands clutched between his legs. I jumped on the bed again, for good luck, using it like a trampoline, until the man-hater's moaning stopped. I almost bounced the whiny rapist off the bed.

"It wasn't a game, Jory. You tried to get me raped, by a porn pro. You and I have had anal sex a lot, you had time to prepare yourself. I've never done anything like that. He would have torn me open. You sprung this on me, lied to me, tricked me, and then tried to castrate me. You let that man-hating bitch hold a string tied to my balls, and laughed when she yanked it. You put earplugs in your ears, so you couldn't hear my pleas. You promised to cuckold me with that bastard, if he could hold out. You've destroyed us."

I stepped over her naked body, as I heard the vehicles pulling up out front. I grabbed a shirt and shorts and pulled them on as I walked to the front door. I opened it as the EMTs and police arrived, and pointed them to the back of the house.

It had been a hell of a day, and I grabbed a beer before seeing how it was all going to work out. I was nervous, exhausted, and coming off the adrenaline high. Mostly I was sad that my marriage was over.

~ * ~ * ~

They did manage to save Barclay's life and sew his dick back on. It was a few inches shorter, and never worked the same, but he still had one. It was a hell of a lot more than he deserved. He was out of a job, of course. Nobody wanted a leading man with a short, ugly, scarred dick that never got fully hard.

Myra was injured worse than I'd thought. The bed crushed her rib-cage pretty good. One broken rib pierced her lung. She got a concussion. My kicks, even barefoot, managed to break her jaw and her nose. The ugly bitch just got uglier. Her outside now matched her inside.

They were still trying to work out the criminal charges. The video helped a lot. It had continued recording until the card was full. It was clear that Myra had severed Barclay's dick. It was also clear that I was being threatened and forced into a sex act I didn't want to do, and my actions were in self-defense.

I had loved Jory, but she had destroyed that love in a few sick minutes. She got away mostly free, except for the destruction of her reputation. That and the divorce.

Her lawyer offered to let me have almost everything, if I'd just let her walk away and drop the charges. She couldn't face me after that day, although I still received the notes and messages apologizing, and saying she'd do anything to make it up to me. They finally stopped.

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Six months later, the legal battles were still ongoing. They all revolved around the other three, and I'd been left out except for being subpoenaed as a witness. We were divorced, and I have to admit it made me sick to find out through our friends, that a video was floating around of Jory doing many of those things she'd done with me. Apparently, she'd developed a taste for them.

I felt guilty that my online viewing started the whole thing. Guilty, yes, but I refused to accept any of the blame. She could have talked to me, she could have been honest. I would have done almost anything for her except be raped, forced into gay sex, and humiliated in front of strangers. That, and I wasn't about to let her take my balls.

When I heard she lost her job, I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. We'd had several great years together, and I had loved her, heart and soul. What she had done was unconscionable, and her promise of cuckolding me afterward, unthinkable. I don't know how she had completely lost her mind, but she had.

Deanna, her older sister, happily married with two adorable kids, showed up at my door out of the blue. She tried to put on a good face, but moments after she was inside, she was in my arms sobbing, crying her heart out.

I guided her to the couch, got her a drink, and settled her down.

"You have to help her, Ken," she pleaded. "She's self-destructing."

"Dee, I'm sure you know what happened, by now. I don't

have

to do anything for her. She made her bed. She destroyed what we had. We're divorced. She's not my problem any more."

"You loved her once. If there's even a shred of that love left, you have to help her. I've tried, so have Mom and Dad, but we can't get through to her. It's gonna kill her, Ken. I know it is. I know you can get through to her. Please, I'm begging."

She started opening her shirt. "Anything Ken, I'll do anything. She's my baby sister." I watched the tears roll down her face, as she exposed her plain white bra.

I stopped her, and pulled her close. "Don't do that, Dee. You don't want to cheat on your husband. You don't want to humiliate yourself like this."

She shook her head. "Please, Ken? What will it take? I don't have much money, but you can have it. I ... I'll suck you. I've never done it but I will for you, if you'll just help her."

I pushed her away gently, and buttoned up her shirt. "Tell me what the problem is. Don't hold anything back."

What she told me was more than disturbing. Her sister had sunk into depression, then started on drugs. She was homeless, and broke. The little she'd gotten out of the divorce was already gone. She'd lived with her friends, sleeping on couches until nobody would put up with her. Now she was trading her body for a roof, with one guy after another. Jory was willing to do the most disgusting things anybody could imagine, and a couple of the bastards had recorded some of her sessions. She was doing trains, gangbangs, whatever it took to get that next level of degradation and humiliation. She'd already been in and out of the hospital twice.

When it was happening, I'd wanted to kill the traitorous bitch. Strangle her. Tie that damn string around her tits, and yank them off. See how she liked that. I wanted her to suffer, to burn in hell, for doing that to me, and for destroying what we had.

That's what I thought I'd wanted. Now, seven months later, I didn't know. I just wanted to move on. But I didn't want her destroyed. She had screwed up, screwed up royally, but she shouldn't have to die for it.

Myra, maybe.

"Let me see what I can do. I can't promise anything, but I'll try, alright?"

Her eyes lit up, and she gave me a big hug, kissing my face, her tears wetting my face. When she finally pulled away, she slid down between my legs, reaching for my belt.

"No, Dee," I said softly, brushing her hands away.

She sat back on her heels, looking confused. "What do you want, Ken? Not ... not what she did?"

"No, sweetie. I'll do it for what we had, and for a sister's love. As pretty as you are, as tempting as it is, I don't want you to do anything that would hurt your marriage."

"I could maybe get Mom and Dad to give you some money."

"You don't have to do anything, Deanna. No sex, no money, nothing like that. I love your Mom and Dad, they were always good to me. You're a wonderful sister, and sister-in-law. You are as sweet as the day is long. Stay that way. That's all I need from you."

She got off her knees, leaned over and gave me a deep kiss. "Thank you, Ken. Thank you so much."

Shit, that was a nice kiss. It almost had me changing my mind.

~ * ~ * ~

The building at the address Dee had given me looked like crap. I had a bad feeling about it. I took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

An acne faced, lanky haired, scrawny guy answered. "Yeah?"