2 comments/ 39764 views/ 10 favorites My Balls Inside Him By: txnmike I woke up in a dank basement chained to a four poster bed. Standing next to me, head bowed, was a man I didn't recognize. Lithe, well muscled, fairly young, and attractive, with short brown hair and brown eyes, maybe 22 or 23 years old best I could tell. His erect cock was sticking upward, as a young man's will, apparently from some manipulation by our Mistress. Our Mistress was sitting in the chair next to us, looking sexy as hell. She was dressed in a bustier, thin, a "high breasted" woman, brunette, blue eyed, with a very sexy rear end, that sexy thigh gap, and a voice that could make you cum without touching. I realized my cock was literally stretched from the head up and tied to the head of the bed. I too was hard, because I love being restrained, but even if I hadn't, it would have been stretched to a full eight inches (it wasn't quite that long) by the rope that attached it to the bed. I was restrained in a four corners restraint. I would have moved up to ease the stress on my penis, but my legs were spread wide and my ankles were securely fixed to the bedposts. I couldn't move. Then the instructions began. First the young erect slave was ordered to get lube. He was ordered to lube his anus. I began to think this might not turn out so bad. I would have enjoyed plowing that field. I watched as he slathered generous amounts of lubricant around his anus, then plunged his ring forefinger inside himself and watched him plunge it deeply. But things quickly took a turn for the worse. He was instructed to take a thin white cotton rope and wrap it tightly around my scrotum, until my balls were perched at least two inches above my legs. He complied, gently lifting my balls and then, under our Mistress's instructions, not so gently tightening the cotton rope around them. He tied the rope in a square knot, hard, as directed, and when he finished, my balls were poised in a rather extreme position, sticking straight up to the sky. I could see they were turning dark purple, matching the head of my grotesquely stretched penis. Our Mistress issued more instructions. He was told to slap my balls left and slap my balls right—Hard. I closed my eyes and then it came. "Damn." I groaned. She told me to shut up. She didn't want a sound from me. So I bit my lip in an effort to obey. She ordered him to slap them again, top, then bottom. He complied. I could feel the agony in my stomach and my instinct was to curl up, but I couldn't. I was so stretched out that I couldn't pull my knees in. Our Mistress instructed him to have a seat on my balls. He faced me, his long, thin, hard cock sticking up at a 45 degree angle, revealing a very large set of balls pulled high and tight in his scrotum because of his raging erection. His ass was resting on my raised balls. Uncomfortable, but not extremely so. Then she ordered him to bounce. Oh God, immediately the pain became excruciating. She started counting "Mississippi's." Every Mississippi was another bounce. She kept ordering him to get higher and then fall down on my extended testicles. I could hardly maintain my silence, but her stare told me I must. I did my best, but still uttered occasional sounds. She told me to "shut the fuck up" or she would remove him and take his place. It would be a lot worse, she told me. The bouncing went on for about five minutes, and I figure he bounced hard on my balls about 300 times. The agony of this process made it seem like hours. I looked down, and my balls were no longer just purple—they were now black and blue too. The pain in my gut was horrendous. Then she pulled out a doctor's reflex hammer—the kind with the pointed hard plastic end with a metal sheath holding it in place. She ordered her other slave to test my testicular reflexes, striking the top, the bottom, the left, the right, and directly in the middle five times each. Those damn things are made of hard rubber and they're heavy. I moaned audibly as he struck me repeatedly with that thing. Now, I was now beginning to feel nauseous. My stomach was absolutely in knots and I was pouring a cold, clammy sweat. She told me to shut up or it would be worse. She would take over and be far less merciful. " Yes," she concluded at last, my testicle reflexes were still intact. But it did become worse anyway. She ordered him to stick my balls inside his anus, one at a time. I don't think he was a virgin back there, but damn he was close. He stuck the right one in first. It was the more distended from the tight rope, and went in without a great deal of difficulty. I muttered damn to myself and she ordered him to put the left one in. It was slightly lower, and it took several minutes for him to work it in. The process was agony. He would press from the bottom, work it part of the way in, then it would pop free. He would repeat. Just going through this made my gut ache. Finally she said she would do it, grabbed it with her fingers, and pushed relentlessly until it popped in. I breathed hard because my balls were literally crushed against each other inside his asshole. I don't think it was any picnic for him either as he was likely stretched wider than he had ever been before. But that wasn't the end of it. When she forced the second inside his asshole at last, he was ordered to raise and lower himself very subtly, but if one came out, he would have to work it back in. He was very careful, probably not wishing to go through the insertion process again, lifting himself about an inch, then lowering himself. My nuts stayed inside him, but god it was horribly painful. I cried out in agony and she grabbed my nipples, pinched and twisted hard and ordered me to shut up again. Our Mistress ordered him to hold still, then started punching him in the stomach. Each punch produced an involuntary spasm, causing his asshole to clench and squeeze my balls mercilessly. Every blow, he was ordered to count. One---two—all the way to fifty. I was on the verge of passing out. Then our Mistress made it worse. She took his erect penis in her hand, began to stroke him slowly and deliberately, and started moaning seductively. His response was predictable. After about two minutes, I could feel his anus clinching and unclinching around my bound and trapped balls. My mind swirled with agony. His moans let me know he was about to cum from our Mistress's manipulations. I was thinking this was really gonna hurt. Finally, he reached the point of no return and she ordered him to sit very still and she let go of his cock. His anus started clinching involuntarily over and over, squeezing my already confined and damaged balls inside his anus as he began to spasm. His long slender cock bounced in correspondence with each spasm as he ejaculated. His cum spurted all the way from my chin to my stomach, but all I felt was the vice grip on my black and blue balls. Rope after rope of cum erupted on my stomach, chest, shoulder and right arm. Every spasm gave me a new squeeze and I finally couldn't take any more. I screamed and he moaned as he spurted his huge load all over me, crushing my balls in the tight sphincter of his anus. Then came the worst of all. She began to rub her open palm over his sensitive post orgasmic glans, still ordering him not to move. He began to whimper, ultimately crying, and his anus spasmed repeatedly, squeezing my testicles tighter in their vice grip. Finally, I succumbed to the crushing of my testicles by his spasming asshole and I passed out. I awoke a while later. Dried cum was all over me, he was still seated on my crotch, and he still had my balls stuck up his ass. Our Mistress looked at us and asked if we were ready for the next round. We repeated the process, but the second time, it took the young guy a lot longer to cum, the spasms of his ruined orgasm lasted much longer, and the post orgasmic torture and his response took just as long. His torturous anal spasms lasted what must have been a full ten minutes. When it was over, I was overcome with the pain and he was completely spent. He just wanted those balls out of his ass. We agreed on that point. She told him to remain very still, then walked over and forcefully shoved him off me. My balls were suddenly forced through his narrow opening, bringing the final surge of agony into my gut. His long slender penis, flaccid for the first time, hung across his right leg, with the head pointed toward the top of the four poster bed. Our Mistress tells me after dinner, which I will be fed by him while still chained, I will thank him by letting him fuck my face. Then we're going to repeat the balls in process. We've got all weekend, he's young, and he can cum over and over again. He's no happier than I am. I'm thinking I might want her to just cut them off. He probably would be willing to give up his cock if he could avoid this. Both of us think It would be less painful than what we're in for. Part one of my fantasies. Chapter Two Still restrained in four directions, I awoke from a short nap. My stomach hurt, by testicles ached. My cock was still grotesquely stretched up, and I was still helpless. But hard. I was starving, but I was really more thirsty. I begged my Mistress to provide me with some water. She said "You'll get your liquid nourishment in a bit. But you will remember, I promised you dinner." She directed the sexy young man with the long slender penis to feed me. His cock was soft now, and dangled between his legs, flitting back and forth between his thighs as he walked. He started feeding me, reaching into a Chinese take out box and delivering bits of teriyaki steak via chop sticks into my mouth. My stomach told me I was famished and I ate them greedily. It was followed with a bit of fried rice and a spring roll. It was good but I wasn't quite full. The young man ate from the same box too. His cock, victim of multiple unsatisfactory orgasms, began to stiffen, and now half hard, hung close to my left arm as we shared the morsels and our Mistress talked to us. Our Mistress told me we would follow it up with a large piece of sausage and some custard. She began to gently tickle the head of the young man's cock. Amazingly, even though he had cum hard and been abused for several minutes after cumming twice, his young penis began to respond. In about a minute, I was staring at this long slender throbbing penis, again standing at a 45 degree angle from his body and bouncing up and down on the left side of my body. Our Mistress chuckled and marveled at how youth rebounds. She said I had been fed and now it was time to wash it down with some man juice. She ordered him to place his thighs over my shoulders as I lay on my back and place his lengthy member on my lips. She ordered me to get it in my mouth. I raised my head and struggled to work the upwardly angled cock between my lips. Finally, I looped my tongue over the tip, pulled it down and trapped it between my lips, holding it there. She told him that if he closed his eyes and used his imagination, his cock was in the mouth of a twenty year old supermodel—or the Mistress—and that he should have no trouble staying turned on. What it really was was the mouth of a forty something middle aged man. She then instructed him to continue feeding me by leaning forwarded and driving his cock into my mouth until his balls smacked my chin and his stomach pushed against my nose. He obeyed and my first response was to gag as the long slender penis reached the back of my throat. She told me that if he even so much as felt my teeth on him I would be severely punished. She told the young man it was the only chance he had for the weekend to reach a fulfilling orgasm, but that he had only five minutes to complete it. He began to attack my face with gusto. I gagged several more times, but adjusted and eventually was able to overcome my urge to throw up. After a few seconds, I began to feel a familiar pang in my stomach. Oh god, she was down there between my widely spread legs, my balls in her hands and was squeezing them with a powerful grip. My stomach again began to revolt as I was assaulted by this long man-meat in my throat and this sexy but cruel Mistress attacking my balls. I could feel her fingernails digging in to each testicle and squeezing tighter and tighter. My mouth full of cock, all I could do was scream a muffled "aaaaaargh." There was nothing more I could do, as I couldn't pull in my knees. Nor could I lift my head as I was assaulted by the young man throat fucking me. She ordered the young man to tell her when he was close. She told him he was at four minutes and he better hurry. He began to quicken his pace. His eyes were closed and I could tell he was imagining the mouth of his favorite actress or a coworker he desired. His cock began moving rapidly in and out of my mouth. I didn't want to help him, because the next time my balls were inside him, it would just take that much longer, so I withheld my tongue. At 4 ½ minutes, she squeezed my balls the hardest and said that if he didn't make it I was going to regret it. Not wanting to know what that meant, I started flicking my tongue on the tip of his cock. Finally he started to tremble, and just before five minutes, I felt the first jet of his sperm in my throat. It was surprisingly large, given how many times the kid had already cum. I wasn't used to cum so I started to gag. She squeezed my nuts even harder—I gave the muffled groan of a cock filled mouth in response, but I got the message to pretend I was swallowing something desirable, like whipped cream. His orgasming body shuddered and spasmed as he filled my mouth with his seed and he jerked repeatedly in response to my tongue swirling around his head. After four or five spurts and oozing a generous amount of additional semen, his shudders eased and his long slender penis began to soften. He pulled away from my lips and there was an audible slurp. She heard the gulp as I swallowed his seed. She told me I had done well—and she released my nuts from her vice grip. Our Mistress grabbed the head of the young man's penis and started to palm it again. She asked if he finally had a satisfying orgasm? He answered "Yes" and then started to groan and cry again as she roughly abused his sensitive head. He started begging her to stop. She simply laughed and asked if he would rather have his testicles in somebody's ass because the tables could certainly be turned. He shouted that he preferred his side of things. Having had not a single orgasm despite witnessing all the sexual activity of the last half day, I would have gladly shoved a navel orange up my ass if I could just cum. But alas, it didn't seem it was going to be. We took no break at all. My Mistress produced a wooden spatula that I'm sure she reserved for just such occasions. She looked at the young man and said that it was either for me or him, but he could choose by his actions. Either he struck me hard enough to satisfy her, or he was going to be tied down and she would take care of him. My bonds had not been loosened, my penis was still grotesquely stretched, my balls were still tied and perched a couple of inches above my legs, and I was almost completely immobile from my ankles to my wrists in her four poster bed. The sheets were now covered with sweat, both his and mine, and semen, only his. Our Mistress told my torturer she wanted him to make me beg to stop, but he was only going to get ten strikes to make that happen. Failure would mean that tomorrow his balls would be inside me. The handsome young man decided he would take no chances. His first blow to my balls had me gasping for breath. The next caused me to cry out. Again she told me to shut up unless I was begging him to stop. Blow number three he nearly reached to the ceiling and came down with a thunderous blow. I began to gag. The next four were the same. I was trying to hang in because I wanted to be the one coming, even if it meant the young man's voluminous balls were in my ass. The next two were in rapid succession—whap whap. But still I didn't ask to stop. Tears flowed from my eyes, my stomach felt as if I had been kicked there by a mule, but I hung in like grim death. I watched as his hand reached up, well over his head, wielding the spatula with the spoon end facing back and I told them "OK OK, I can't take another blow. Please stop" Our Mistress walked over and gently caressed my throbbing balls—she told me I was brave to endure that much and that she might find an opportunity for pity for me. Then our Mistress ordered the young man on top of me and started counting Mississippi's. He knew what to do. The high bounces. Compared to the spatula though, these were child's play. I also saw the young man, already having produced three orgasms in just over a half day, begin to develop another full blown erection. Man, to be young again! His long slender member was again pointing to the sky. I too had been hard for most of the last half day, but hadn't unloaded even a drop of cum. This guy had produced about a bucketful, some still on my body, some in my stomach, and some on my Mistress's bed sheets. And he still got it up. And I mean up. Maybe he just enjoyed the ass to balls contact. She ordered him to reinsert them and I gasped. "Here we go again," I thought. He reached for the bottle of lube, but she told him he didn't have permission to use lube, had not asked permission, and his punishment would be to do it without lube. I wondered who was really being punished. This time he really struggled even to get the right one in. The second, he worked for what seemed like an hour, but I am sure was less than two or three minutes. She announced she would do it herself, reached over and forcefully shoved my left nut inside his rectum. My stomach ached after this was finished. She produced the spatula. She untied my left hand and handed it to me. She pulled back his long slender penis, pulling his testicles forward and told me I should strike him as many times as I wanted until he asked ME to stop. But if either of my balls came out of his rectum, she said, we would start from the beginning. I knew what this meant—every time I hit him, his anus was going to contract and I would get squeezed. The more I struck him, the more my balls would get squeezed. The quicker I forced him to ask for mercy, the harder they would get squeezed. I decided on the quick solution. I reached back and wailed with the spatula with all the strength I could muster. "Awwww goddddd," he screamed, his anus tightened forcefully, crushing my battered balls, but he did not ask me to stop. A second blow produced the same response. A third, this one probably as hard as I could produce, finally got him to scream "Please stop!" Our mistress looked behind him and discovered my left ball had leaked out. "Sorry" she said, "back in it goes," and with two fingers she shoved my left testicle back in his anus. Oh it hurt. "We can do this all day if you like." I drew back, looked at him, and said "You better keep them in this time" I came down with all the strength I had on his left testicle—a ball for a ball—and he screamed, "Oh please, stop." She looked behind him and said that nothing had come out and congratulations. She looked at me and handed me the tube of lube. She told me it wasn't for me, but that I would get to masturbate him to orgasm. She suggested I be quick about it, because if I got the young man off within five minutes, there would be no post orgasm torture, and we would call it a night. She might even remove my balls from his ass. I told him to imagine his favorite group of supermodels, female coworkers, or friends, think of them jerking him as a group and said "let's get this over with." The problem is he had already produced a massive amount of cum. Did he have any more left? He was still hard, even with the brutal spatula paddling he had received. But I thought he might be dry. My Balls Inside Him, Requiem Sunday—Requiem I don't know how long I slept, but I woke much more rested than the night before. I think the previous two days had exhausted all of us, including our Mistress. What finally awakened me was the sound of lots of activity at the head of the four poster bed. A six foot wooden frame with a pulley suspended from the top rail was in place. I hadn't heard it being moved in the room. I woke up, sat up, looked around and realized the aluminum bucket was still there, several lengths of rope were laying across the bed (which mercifully finally had clean sheets), a medical tray with many instruments was perched on a rolling table next to the bed, and our Mistress had donned a sexy nurses uniform—the kind you can get at a novelty store around Halloween. Of course handsome Mr. Long Penis was still naked, I think he had been all weekend, and was working on getting the frame in place under our Mistress's direction. "Good morning," she said in the most friendly tone she had used all weekend. "It's time for your examination. Step over here please." I complied. "Please lay back on the bed and put your feet in the air." I did as I was instructed. Holding her nose, she looked at her naked assistant and said "He smells awful. Please take him to the corner and have him wash." Her well-hung assistant lifted me by the arm—I was still a bit unsteady, and walked me toward a corner of the room. There was a small drain but no shower. He picked up a hose and tossed me a bar of soap. He began to spray me. The water was cold, but rather refreshing and it helped me wake up. He wet me down, I washed myself, and then he sprayed me off. "Be sure to get those testicles thoroughly cleaned." He stepped closer to me, I raised my penis, and he applied the spray directly to my balls. Damn, the pain already started. I didn't say a word because I felt today was going to be the toughest day of all, and I didn't want to make it worse for myself by complaining already. The assistant threw me a dry towel and I quickly dried myself off. He took me by the arm and helped me back to the bed. "Lay back again," she said. I obeyed and lay crossways across the bed. Sniffing the air, she said, "ahhh, much better, my pungent patient. Now put your feet up please." I did. Without so much as a word, her assistant with the long slender penis walked to the other side of the bed, grabbed my feet and pulled them toward him. The head of his circumcised penis was (for a change) pointing downward, about an inch from my forehead. Our Mistress sat on a stool, leaned forward, gently grabbed my testicles, and began examining them again. "The swelling and bruising is much better," she said "which means our fun can continue. However, this left one has given us a lot of trouble this weekend and I think we need to remedy that. Remember how much trouble he had getting it inside him and how it slipped out when we were playing our games?" "You may release him and step to the instrument tray." She instructed her naked assistant. Even though I knew I was in for an ordeal, I began to get aroused and I could feel my penis swelling. He walked around to the tray. She looked at him and said "Clamp." He held out a medical clamp, the kind a surgeon might use on a bleeding artery. She took it in her right hand, tightened it around my scrotum just above where my left testicle is attached to the chord, and tightened it in place. It hurt a bit, but wasn't terribly painful. I breathed, but didn't utter a sound. "The problem with this left testicle, sir, is that it doesn't hang as low as the other one. That's what's been causing us so much trouble this weekend. I aim to remedy that." She said matter-of-factly. She instructed her naked assistant to step to the clamp, and pull it toward him. "Let's see if this solves the problem. If not, we may need more extreme measures." He started to pull and the pain caused me to start to pant. "Pull harder," she shouted. I began to feel my left nut extend toward him and the pain of having it constricted within my sack was horrible. "Keep pulling," she shouted and I saw him start to lean back in an effort to apply more force. I began slapping my hands on the bed, but still didn't cry out, fearing the consequences. The pain shot into my stomach and the nausea returned. After two or three minutes, the pulling was so forceful that I began to slide off the bed toward him. "OK, you can release the clamp." Our Mistress ordered. Mr. Long Penis complied. "Let's have a look at you." She said. After a moment of some rather pleasant fondling, she said, "Left one still doesn't hang low enough. We're going to have to go to plan B." I had the impression that she was going to use plan B regardless of whether plan A worked anyway. "Please secure him to the bed," she instructed her well endowed assistant. "We can't have him slapping the bed any more." His work was also having an effect on him, he was at full mast and his long slender penis was throbbing and bouncing up and down. "We must further evaluate how to tame this rogue left testicle." The assistant secured me to the bed, feet first then hands. Again, his penis, in its high erect position, was only a few inches from my face as he secured my hands. She saw my reaction to his long slender organ and barely suppressed her smile. Our Mistress handed him a length of thin cotton rope and instructed him, "Tie off the left testicle and make sure we can access this ring." She slid a metal ring down the rope. I felt his fingers isolate the left nut and then the rope tying it off. "Biggest difference in testicles I've ever seen. The right hangs twice as low as the left. Never seen that before." She observed. Our Mistress instructed her assistant to tie a second rope, probably about twenty feet long, to the ring, then throw it over the frame above the head of the bed where I was secured. Looking up, I could see it probably reached to the floor. Our Mistress reached down, picked up the aluminum bucket, and walked over to where the rope lapped over the frame. Our Mistress looked at her assistant and sneered, "I'll handle this part, because we must be careful when handling a single testicle, and you're not good for anything but fucking and anal nut encapsulation." She chuckled at her comment. Still looking up, I saw our Mistress tie the rope securely to the aluminum bucket. She dropped the bucket, and I felt a bit of pressure on my left testicle, but not uncomfortable pressure. I looked down and saw that for the first time it was a bit higher than the right. "Please get the reflex hammer," she instructed the naked assistant. He did, and handed it to her. She shook her head no and said, "You can handle this part of the procedure since it involves brute force." "We need to evaluate the reflexes of the left testicle in light of everything that's happened this weekend. Please give him several firm blows on his left testicle from all angles and let's evaluate those reflexes." Our Mistress's assistant climbed between my thighs and began several gentle blows on my testicles. With each, I writhed and grunted (but kept my mouth closed, not wanting to cry out), but definitely had a reaction. "Harder," she said sternly, "you're not getting his full reaction." I saw him raise his hand a good two feet in the air and bring it down with all his might. "Aaaaarghhhhh!" I screamed. She told him to do it four more times. I began to gag from the horrible pain in the pit of my stomach. I was near to throwing up when she told him to stop. I took a deep breath and gave a sigh of relief. Our Mistress gave a pleased grin, looked at her assistant and said, "good, we've established that this testicle still has reflexes, now we will get it out of it's uncooperative state. Please go get the garden hose and bring it over here." The hose had a spray nozzle attached, allowing the user to control the water flow. When aimed at my balls earlier at high pressure, it was really painful, but it could be throttled down quite a bit. Our Mistress took the hose and began to hear a soft hiss as a trickle of water entered the bucket. She smirked, and acting as if she were talking to my left nut, she said "two or three gallons of water in that bucket ought to get you out there with your big brother." Now the assistant smiled. I heard the spray of water increase. I felt my left testicle begin to be pulled upward and squeezed tighter and tighter by the rope that bound it. The pressure increased steadily as the hiss of water into the bucket continued. Looking down, I could see my dark purple left testicle squeezed by the rope and stretched a full half inch further than my right. The bucket must have been getting fuller because the pain was beginning to become unbearable. She stopped and gave the hose back to her assistant. Looking at him as he approached her, I could see that he was fully erect and his cock was bobbing up and down. Apparently he was aroused by my torture. She ordered the assistant to get a large canvas bag from the cabinet. I could tell when he picked it up that it was quite heavy, he leaned to the side to carry it. Our Mistress walked over to the bag, pulled out a small weight, and held it in front of me. "See these? Guess where they're going." "Drop one every few seconds into the bucket," Our Mistress commanded her assistant. I heard the first plop of the weight into the water, then a ting when it struck the bottom. After about a minute, I began to experience a noticeable increase in the weight pulling on my testicle. After about five minutes, the combined weight of the water and the weights in the bucket lifted my butt off the bed. Five minutes after I was first lifted up, the handsome man with the long hard penis looked at Our Mistress and said "That's all Mistress." "It's taking two gallons of water plus 16 pounds of lead weights to get your left nut to behave." She said in a rather frustrated tone. "Come here, my assistant, and service my pussy while his left testicle stretches to a satisfactory location." The assistant practically ran to her, his high angled penis bouncing in front of him and she sat in a chair, pulled up her nurses skirt and pushed her thong to the side. Looking left, I got a glimpse of a prize I had never experienced. A shaved vagina with fat outer labia and delicate inner labia that protruded slightly from her heavenly vulva. I watched the young man begin to lick greedily between her thighs, acting as if it was the first pussy he'd ever eaten. But I could tell from her sighs that it was clearly not. Temporarily, I forgot that my left nut was stretched with 35 pounds of force. After several minutes of listening to him lapping away at her, she threw her head back, grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled him hard against her pussy. "Ohhhhh, God," she screamed. "Yes. God that is incredible." I could see her legs tremble as she was racked by waves of orgasmic tremors. She held him that way for two or three minutes before she collapsed against her chair and pushed him to the side. If it's possible, I think his cock was even harder than when he began. I wish I could have stroked myself while watching him eat her, but damnit, I hadn't been allowed to touch myself all weekend and still longed to release my cum. With the show over, I was brought back to the reality that my left nut was being pulled by so much weight I was lifted an inch or two from the bed. Gathering herself, she pulled her thong back in place, lowered her skirt, and walked over to inspect their handiwork. She flicked my left testicle in several places with her finger. Because the testicle was so extremely compressed, the flicking immediately produced intense pain. She took what looked like a dental pick from the medical tray and began to prod my left testicle with it. I grimaced with the pain of that—not the stomach jarring pain of a deep ball strike, but the "local" pain of my scrotum being pricked. Finally, she looked at her big dicked cunnilinguist and said, "Let's see what the results of our efforts have been." She ordered him to untie the bucket and lower it to the ground. She held up my left testicle and squeezed it hard. But I made no sound. Honestly, I think it was slightly numb from the pressure and the weight that it had borne. It was a deep purple color, while the right one, though still slightly bruised, had more of a skin tone. "Only one way to find out." She said, and the assistant groaned. "Put them back in there," pointing to his anus, and let's continue. My left testicle was already aching and he grabbed it first. "No, no, no," She commanded, "right first, then left, as is our custom." She looked at his hard cock, still sticking upright. "All that pussy eating seems to have made you excited, didn't it. Get those balls in, then you can cum." Although he wasn't happy about having to insert my balls again, he was certainly happy to learn he was going to cum, so he practically shoved both my testicles into his rectum. This time, the left one plopped in easily. Still, it was very painful to be so confined and three days of this were really taking a toll on me. She looked at me. "Guess whose going to take care of this problem." She smirked. She released my right hand and poured a bit of lubricant onto it. "Stroke him at the count of five, but not before." She began to count. I stroked at five and he moaned. I stroked again at five. Over and over, I repeated the process. Because of the delay between strokes, I knew this was going to take a long time and that, if I were allowed to bring him to full orgasm, it would probably be at that pace or perhaps even slower. I used every technique I could think of to help speed up the process. The one thing I couldn't do was tickle the balls, which always seems to do the trick, at least for me. Our Mistress pulled out a digital camera and began making snapshots of me stroking the assistant's long rigid penis. I'm sure the videotape captured it as well. "For your wife." Our Mistress said. I kept going, but because of our Mistress's strict insistence on waiting for her five count between strokes, it was a lengthy process. He would seem to get close, then would back away. The anal spasms would start, then subside. Each spasm was of course, a nutcrusher. After about twenty minutes of mutual frustration on the part of me and Mr. Long Cock, our Mistress picked up a long, slender vibrator. She held it up, looked at him, and said "Maybe this will help you along." But instead of putting it against his balls or the base of his cock, for direct stimulation, she walked around behind him and forcefully shoved the vibrator in his anus. There was no room! He screamed from the pain of having his rectum stretched even wider. I screamed from the pain of having an even more constricted space for my balls in there. But the vibrator did seem to help and after I adjusted, it also became somewhat pleasant for me. After about another 15 to 20 strokes, he began the slow moaning of a man about to shoot his load. I think the vibrator was probably pushing on his prostate, and the cum, though less voluminous than the day before, erupted with considerable force, striking me in the face and under my chin. After it hit me, it began to run down my cheeks and onto my neck. "Oh, I must have a picture of that. Look at what my two little toy boys just did for me." She chuckled. Snapping away. She hadn't told me to stop, so I kept going until I could tell there was no more cum left in this load. Our Mistress then got really cruel. She grabbed a scrubber from the tray, the kind they use at the hospital to scrub your nails. She soaped it up and began to scrub the sensitive head of his penis with it. This one took the cake. He gave the worst cries of post orgasm torture that I have ever heard. His anus placed so much pressure on the vibrator and my balls that I thought they would surely be mush. I squeezed my hands tight against my restraints, attempting to control my screams. Because of all the pressure, the vibration, his struggles as she scrubbed his cock head, and all the sexual activity I had witnessed during the weekend, the scrubbing created a big problem for me. I involuntarily began to spasm as I could feel a handsfree orgasm approaching. "Please Mistress may I cum?" I cried out. "Don't you even dare!" Was her reply. "I cant control it. I can't stop it. Please, please!" And with that cum began seeping out of my tightly tied penis. Even with a tightly tied and stretched penis, the ropes of cum erupted and I could not stop them. "You see what happens to boys after they cum, don't you?" She said in a low seething voice. She took the same scrub brush and started to forcefully rub the head of my cock with it. I was powerless to even move. She looked at me sternly and said "If anything comes out of his asshole, there will be hell to pay. Just take it like a man." She tortured my cock head with the scrub brush for what seemed like forever, but it was probably only three or four minutes. By the time she finished, I had tears streaming down my eyes and I was whimpering for mercy. She spoke as she scrubbed my cock head raw. "You directly disobeyed me and I will not tolerate disobedience from you. You will learn to follow my orders to the letter." I could see my cock head, already purple and now with little bright red streaks where the teeth of the scrubbing pad left their marks. Now my cock was hurting even worse than my balls. She walked over to the well-endowed young man, knocked him off of me, and said that my disobedience would have to be punished. She had the young man untie my feet, come around to the head of the bed, and hold them over my shoulders. She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a large strapon. It looked to be at least 8 inches long and thicker than anything I'd ever had up there. Certainly thicker than her assistant's. She strapped it on, lubed it up, and walked over to me. "You're going to get fucked like the little harlot that you are, my boy!" she said with a sneer. "And I'll tell you for how long. Two minutes after I start, he's going to be hard." she said, motioning to the well-hung assistant. "You just emptied his balls out on your face and he's going to fuck your mouth from there until he cums. When he's finished, that's when I'll finish. Let's go." She inserted the large dildo into my ass and it was damned uncomfortable. The largest thing I'd ever had in there was maybe a couple of fingers. I'd always had a strap on fantasy, but pictured something much smaller, at least for a beginning. She didn't give me any time to get accustomed, she drove it to the hilt on the first plunge and I groaned. True to form Mr. Long Penis was very quickly at full attention again. Holding my feet with one arm, he the other one to push his penis toward my mouth. Our Mistress looked at him and said, "I'm going to fuck him at a regular pace. You have to count five between each plunge. And don't disobey me or you'll be where he is." Our Mistress grabbed my balls and used them to gain the leverage to do a forceful assault against my anus. She pushed with such force that I felt as if my insides were being ripped apart by the dildo. Mr. Long Penis, of course, having cum just minutes earlier, took forever to finish. I used my tongue the most effective way I know how, lavishing attention on that beautiful cock head, but the closer he seemed to get, the further away he would drift during his five-count pause. The weekend was coming to a horrible end. I was pinned down and being fucked unmercifully from both ends. They fucked me without pause for what was likely an hour. Finally, I felt his legs begin to tremble and his breathing quicken as he came (down my throat) thankfully without as much force as before, and my Mistress made one final ferocious push that left me howling in pain. And of course, throughout the session, I kept hearing the click, click, click of the camera shutter. My Balls Inside Him, Requiem Finally, she sat back on the foot of the bed panting from the exertion. I was panting from being used like a cheap whore. And Mr. Long Penis was smiling contentedly, as he'd just gotten to cum without being tortured afterward. "Too bad he's completely spent. Maybe next time you visit we can both do you in the ass at the same time." Our Mistress climbed off the bed. And walked toward the stairs. "You two clean this place up" she said. "It's a pig sty. I've seen you eyeing his cock," she said as she looked at me with a grin. "But you two are my property and you can fuck only if I say so." Our Mistress threw our clothes down the stairs and closed the door behind her. At long last the weekend was over. This handsome man with such a lovely long penis was working side by side with me, but I wasn't even aroused any more. He'd been naked so long that he didn't even seem self conscious about it. We cleaned up, I stuffed my massively swollen balls into my boxers, put on my jeans and looked down to see this huge bulge caused by my balls. "Well," I thought, "at least a few people will be impressed." Mr. Long Penis got dressed, we hugged and thanked each other for helping make it through this. He then hobbled up the stairs (walking gingerly) with me behind and said "I'm just glad to get those damn balls out of my ass." "Not half as glad as I am," I replied. My Balls Inside Him I was wrong—wish I was that young! In actually only about two minutes, staring into the sexy blue eyes of our Mistress, he again produced a copious amount of sperm—crushing my poor testicles in the process with four or five anal spasms. Our Mistress pulled my hand away—she says we need him tomorrow, and let his orgasm conclude unsatisfactorily. But she spared me the post-orgasmic torture of the previous sessions. I was grateful. She pulled him up by the hair and my balls emerged with an audible plop! They ached. Despite my earlier claim that I might prefer her cutting them off, I was happy to see them. I was untied, including my very stretched cock, and left to sleep on the bare mattress in the dark, cold basement without a cover. I also got to go to the bathroom. She asked the young man upstairs with her, reporting that she would probably fuck him a couple of times that night. His erection had finally subsided and when he walked the long slender organ alternately struck each thigh. I suspected my Mistress could change that. In the cold basement, I more shivered than slept. The bare lights were left on and I was left to snatch a little bit of rest. Exhausted from the day's activities, I craved sleep. I still had received no liquids but his thick gooey cum, my mouth was dry, and my lips were starting to chap. What couldn't have been more than three hours later, I was awakened by a familiar feeling. My balls were being lifted and stretched toward the ceiling in her hand. My Mistress, pulling my balls as high as she could, told me to get ready, showed me a tennis ball, then forced it into what looked like an athletic sock. She handed it to the well-hung young man and said, "You've got 5 shots to make him beg you to quit. If you don't, it's your turn." He reached back with the sock with the tennis ball inside, swinging it with all his might. The blow took my breath away. I tried to breathe in and out to ease the pain. He reached back again, swinging the sock in a circle, and wailed away. "Oh god," I thought, "I can't take three more of these." The next time he reached back, I said "Please don't. I can't take it." "Tie him back up." She ordered. He cuffed my legs to the lower bed posts. Then grabbed my wrists and cuffed them to the headboard posts. He grabbed my erect cock, looped the rope around it, and stretched it grotesquely to the headboard. Finally, he took a six foot rope, looped it around my balls, and again tied them so they pointed toward the sky. "Put a pillow under his head," she instructed. The young man did as he was told. "I want him to watch this." She placed an approximately 3 inch wide flat board under my distended testicles. Placed another on top. Then she put a bolt and wing nut through a hole in each end. She tightened them until they were snug but not painful. She ordered the handsome young man to tighten each side one full turn. He did so. Again, snug, but not painful. Our mistress said to the young man, "OK, you have 3 minutes. Every 30 seconds, you're going to tighten the wing nuts another full turn." She looked at me and said "If you so much as utter a sound, you'll spend the rest of the day like that, and I will be testing the reflexes on your flattened balls while our young man here attacks your mouth again." Anticipating the pain that was coming, I began the deep cleansing breaths of a woman giving childbirth. Thirty seconds went by and I got the first full turn each side. Still bearable. Thirty more seconds went by and I began to feel the squeeze from the second full turn. At a minute and a half, the next turn came and it really started to hurt. At two minutes, I clenched my teeth and looked down at my now very flattening testicles. But I kept my silence. At 2 ½ minutes, I felt nauseous when he turned the screws another full turn. At three minutes, he turned again and I dug my nails into my palms, but I held my silence. She backed him away and left me like that. "Very good!" Our Mistress said, tracing her finger up and down the length of the underside of my penis. She stopped at the base and said, "This has been neglected too long." She directed the young man to bring her a large C-Clamp. He did, and she tightened it at about the midpoint of my stretched cock. She placed the clamp so tightly that my cock now looked like a figure 8, crimped almost completely in the middle. She handed the doctor's reflex hammer to the young man, directing him to strike the boards crushing my balls every five seconds. She licked her fingers and started to rub the underside of my cock with two fingers, on the frenulum, where the head joins the underside. I had been waiting so long and had seen so much sexual activity that I very quickly responded to the light touch of her fingers. At five seconds, I felt the first blow—It hurt so bad. Then another, then another, then another. Despite that, the fingers on my frenulum were beginning to have an effect. I felt a tingle in my groin and legs, a spark of electricity through me, then I started to spasm. My breathing grew heavy and I began the spasmic response of an orgasm. But I produced nothing. The C Clamp prevented anything from coming out. My cock was twitching and her fingers kept rubbing, but my orgasm was dry. It was terribly unsatisfying and I clenched my firsts and drew my breath in frustration. Everybody was getting theirs but me. My balls were being abused horribly, but they weren't getting any relief. She continued to tickle the underside of my cock with her two fingers and he continued to pound the boards crushing my balls. My body kept reacting to the unsatisfying stimulation. Our Mistress kept rubbing the sensitive underside of my head for a full two minutes after my dry orgasm. I was so frustrated, I was virtually in tears. Our Mistress asked me if I wanted some water and I nodded. I still didn't dare speak. It felt so good to get moisture in my mouth for the first time in more than 24 hours. I drank greedily, thanked her , and lay my head back on the pillow. She directed the handsome young man to free my balls, untie my penis, but to leave me chained to the bed. As near as I could figure, it was still only Saturday. I had a day to go. My stomach ached and my testicles felt like they'd been through a meat grinder. I wondered if I could fit my bruised, swollen testicles inside my khakis when I went to work on Monday. She took the young man upstairs again. I watched his penis flopping back and forth as they climbed the stairs and I stared at our Mistresses' sexy ass. I was horny, unsatisfied, and very jealous. I heard some noise upstairs, maybe they were making dinner or having a drink. About 20 minutes later, our Mistress came back down the stairs carrying a large aluminum bucket. She sat the bucket by the bed and climbed between my legs. She lifted my balls gently and began to study them. "These seem badly bruised and very swollen." She reported. "I've got plans for them tomorrow, so I think we need to heal them a little." She reached in the bucket, picked up a large plastic bag full of ice, and dropped it from about a foot above me onto my crotch. I gasped at the combination of the force of the drop and the sudden sensation of extreme cold. She reached back in the bucket and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Using several strips of the duct tape, she taped the bag to my crotch. It was so cold I was already starting to have that "hurt" feeling you get from ice on bare skin. "That should make sure the bag doesn't fall off." She said, almost giggling. "I'll be back in a while to check on you. A good slave would be grateful to have his injuries attended to." "Thank you mistress," I whispered as my teeth began to chatter. "You might want to try and get some sleep. The finale is tomorrow." She said. A sly smile erupted from her face, as she turned and walked that fine ass away from me. I couldn't help but think that smile meant that tomorrow would be worse. How? It didn't seem possible. I looked to my right and saw the bucket was still there. Had she forgotten it? Very soon, my balls, my thighs, my penis and my stomach were completely numb from the exposure to the plastic bag filled with ice. The bag was "sweating" and water ran down my sides and between my thighs and began to soak the bed. Between the ice and the irritating wet sheets, there was no way I could sleep. I tried to at least slide away from the wetness, but it was useless, I was so thoroughly stretched I simply couldn't move. Our Mistress hadn't told me how long I would be like this and I had no concept of time by this point anyway. It could have been an hour, two hours, or more. Finally, I heard the creaking hinges to the door above the stairs and heard the familiar clop, clop, clop of her heels on the stairs. "Let's have another look at 'my' balls." She sneered. She began slowly peeling away the duct tape (and all the hair beneath it), causing my to groan. "Shut the fuck up or I will simply tape the bag back down." She shouted. I got the message. I breathed hard as she slowly lifted the four strips of duct tape securing the bag of ice. She removed the bag, placing it on my chest—horrible cold again—and performed another testicle exam. "Be grateful I even deem these worthy of touching." She said sternly. And began to roll them around in her fingers. "I see a little bit of improvement, but I think we need to ice you down a while longer." She grabbed the bag, threw it on my crotch again, and applied the duct tape. "I have a young stud ready to fuck me, upstairs." I think now I know how Eskimos feel during sex. The sexy ass walked away from me again, she ascended the stairs, the door hinges creaked as she closed it, and the numb feeling in my crotch returned. And the damned sheets were still wet. Exhausted and still stretched in four directions, I think I may have dozed a bit. Sometime later, the door hinges caused me to awake with a start. This time there was no clop, clop. Rather, the soft bare feet of Mr. Long Penis began to come down the stairs. "Mistress told me to come down and remove the ice." He said softly, one of a very few words he had uttered the entire weekend. "She said you can also be released to sleep over there," pointing at the mattress, "and that I'm to provide you a blanket." He too, slowly pulled the duct tape away, causing me great discomfort, and finally removed the ice. He didn't pause to inspect my testicles, but I suspect he was glad they were less swollen than when he left, given where they would likely be. He removed the cuffs securing from my feet to the bed, then from my hands, his big cock hanging mere inches from my face. He helped me get into a sitting position on the bed, then put my arm over his shoulder and slowly walked me to the mattress. My cock was stiff as a board because of sexual frustration and I think the closeness of our contact caused him to become aroused. He too began to stiffen and again assumed the 45 degree angle. We walked together across the room, our cocks bouncing down, then up with each step. "Don't touch yourself, Mistresses orders." He warned. "Just sleep." Then he whispered, " I'd help you out with that, but. . ." he concealed his hand and then pointed toward the upper wall of the room with his index finger. There was a camera. My entire ordeal was being videotaped and Mistress was probably monitoring us to make sure we didn't take care of any of our sexual frustration there. "Thanks." Was my whispered reply. " But right now I just want to sleep in a warm dry place." He released me to lay down, walked over to a small cabinet, pulled out a blanket, and spread it over me. He told me goodnight and I think I was asleep before he reached the stairs.