My Poor Balls: Chapter 17: Picking my own switch. (Kicking, Caning)

**Disclaimer**: These stories are a work of fiction. None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted. My wife and I do have a relationship that sometimes incorporates some ballbusting, but these stories are fantasy.

Here are the previous chapters.

* [Chapter 1 and 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cwek6v/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_1_and_2_story/) (Kicking and electrical play)
* [Chapter 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cxs5tc/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_3_story/) (Kicking and licking)
* [Chapter 4 and 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/czuziy/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_4_and_5_story/) (Kicking and crushing in a vice)
* [Chapter 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/d3yrq6/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_6_story/) (Hammering and sex)
* [Chapter 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/do0w3p/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_7_story/) (Execution style weight play and licking)
* [Chapter 8](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/epvzsf/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_8_story/) (Caning in stocks)
* [Chapter 9](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/fevozj/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_9_story/) (Kicking)
* [Chapter 10](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/gj9e9a/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_10_story/) (Crushing)
* [Chapter 11](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/gl3r25/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_11_story/) (Kicking)
* [Chapter 12](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/pdaix2/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_12_story/) (Hammering)
* [Chapter 13](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/q3r6cp/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_13_story/) (Cattle Prod)
* [Chapter 14](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/y8wo2s/my_poor_ball_chapter_14_training_resumes_kicking/) (Kicking)
* [Chapter 15](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/ybh9ds/my_poor_balls_chapter_15_the_hike_leashed_pulling/) (Leashed pulling, Kicking)
* [Chapter 16](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/103xmhp/my_poor_balls_chapter_16_setting_up_camp_kicking/) (Kicking, Shocking)

**Chapter 17: Saturday: Picking my own switch. (Kicking, Caning)**

I made it back to camp with a second armful of firewood. I set it in the pile I had created with the first batch. As she had done after the first load, my wife called out “Boot Test” as soon as I had dropped the wood.

She had put her shorts back on. I don’t think I was going to get to cover my balls at all this weekend until we made it back to the car. Gingerly I uncouple the dog shock collar that I had worn on my balls during my wood collection.

I take my place on an area of dirt mostly free of rocks, and spread my legs and tried to prepare myself. My balls were sore, as they were most of the time, but they had been abused so many times in so many different ways already today, and with only a few minutes in between to recover they were not ready for something as small as 3 kicks from my wife’s hiking boots. Still, I knew my place, and right now that place was kneeling with my legs spread to expose my vulnerable balls to whatever my wife wanted to do to them.

She takes her place directly in front of me, looking down from above. “Are you ready?” She asks. Then not waiting for the answer she boots me in my manparts so hard that it felt like I might be lifted from the ground.

I lean forward, feeling light headed. She gives me a bit, but only a short bit, and then pulls at my shoulder encouraging me to get back up.

“I didn’t hear a count” she says. “We will do one penalty kick for that, and if you forget to count again it will be 10 penalty kicks.”

“Eh” I grunt in acknowledgement, and rise to make my balls as vulnerable as possible. She kicks me again. I want to pass out. I want to fall into a fetal position, but I love her so much and don’t want to disappoint her. After struggling for breath for a few seconds, I say “Penalty.”

“Much better she praises”. Then uses two finger to beckon me back into position. As soon as I reach it, she kicks again savagely.

“Hruuuuu” all of the air rushes out of my lungs in a painful screech. “Uh...uh...two” I say.

“OK, last one.” she beacons me upright again. Thwunk a meaty sound as her boot makes impact with my sensitive orbs. I fall to my side, and dry wretch a bit.

“Fuck!” my wife says. “Those fucking balls just got blood on my boot!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I say from the ground.

“What are you sorry about? This was the fault of those fucking balls.” Then she considers. “Why don’t you go find a switch we can use to discipline them, since we aren’t going to be able to train with my boots for the rest of the weekend.

A switch worthy of my wife, and her desire to cause pain to my testicles. It can’t be too long. My balls, even in their punished and swollen state, are a relatively small target. It should be straight. Is she going to demand barbs on the switch?

I find a stick on the ground similar in size to the cane that she uses on my nuts when she is testing me. That cane is so terrible. Maybe something smaller? Would she go for something smaller? She is angry with my nuts.

I tentatively swat at a tree with the stick. It hits hard, but is a bit hard to swing. I discard it, and then realize that she might be satisfied with something stingy, and since my balls had experienced so much thuddy pain recently, a bit of sting might be a relief.

I cast about, and find a young tree with a straight branch that seems a bit springy. I experiment with the branch a bit, and then lightly tap my leg with it. Yep. Stingy, this should do. I head back to camp.

My wife had rigged up a caning spot. A sleeping pad was laid across the ground, and a rope was looped over a nearby tree. She was in the process of tying a noose in the end.

“Back already?” she asks. “The switch had better be good. I really want to teach the balls a lesson this time.”

My testicles existed in a constant state of instruction. They were taught lesson after lesson, and still somehow never learned not to bleed when kicked repeatedly by my wife’s hiking boots.

“Here you go.” I hand her the stick I had picked out.

She takes it from me, and feels the weights. Tests it lightly against her palm, then looks to me and says, “Let’s see” then she gestures to my crotch with the stick.

I take up my balls in my hands, grip my scrotum above my balls firmly in my right hand. This causes my sensitive organs to thrust forward vulnerably. I look up, and we lock eyes. Then she smiles. Then she swings. Swoosh, thwap, my balls are snapped painfully. I drop them immediately. It stings so bad.

“Show me” she demands to inspect the damage. I hold my balls up trying to reveal the section of scrotum that took the hit. Already a small red welt has appeared amongst the bruises and minor abrasions.

“Good. Good” she says appraisingly. “Now lay down on the mat.”

She finishes her noose, then measures the rope so that the noose hangs at waist level as she ties the other end to her, mostly empty pack. Then she hoists the pack, which lowers the noose to me on the ground.

I take a deep breath, and then grab it and loop it around my testicles.

“OK, hands under your butt.” Then she appraises the stick, and muses, “If you can keep your hands underneath you, I’ll flash my boobs after caning the balls.”

I nod. She drops her pack, which jerks the rope on my balls abruptly upward. I’m briefly worried they will be torn off, and then the weight settles. It is mildly painful. Probably 15 pounds. Not a challenging weight for my balls most of the time, but hurting now.

She takes her position, and asks “Why are we doing this?’
“Because ‘the balls’ bled on your boots.”

“That is right!” she punctuates the last word with a swing. Swoosh, thwap. Every muscle tenses as I struggle to absorb the pain.

“One” I say, Swoosh, thwap. I try to squirm a bit, struggling to overcome the urge to defend my bound nuts.

“Two” I say. Swoosh, thwap. I feel light headed as my brain releases endorphins. The stick is stingy, but also has so much thud.

“Three” Swoosh, thwap. I buck at the newest attack. But keep my hands firmly in place.

“Four” Swoosh, thwap. 5 hits now, all within a few millimeters on my vulnerable ball sack. My nuts are exuding pain.

“Five”. Swoosh thwap. Another hit in the exact same spot. I can’t take it, my body rejects my attempt to keep my hands in place. My genitals are under attack. My hands surge towards my balls, then pull up short.

“Don’t you defend those balls from me.” She orders, then “Give the count”.

“Six”, A savage swing that makes no noise, or none that I can hear as I’m cast into a brief moment of blinding white light.

I’m shaking now. “Ssss seven.” Swoosh, thwap. It’s an explosion on the surface of my scrotum that penetrates deep into my nut meat causing blinding pain.

My hands are wheeling about at my side clenched into fists. I’m trying with all my might to keep them from giving comfort to my beaten nuts.

“Ei eig eight.” I force out. I’m blinded by the pain, and don’t hear the swoosh, but it connects solidly. “Eeeeee” I make an animal noise, and shuffle from side to side.

“Count” she commands when I take too long.

“Ni nine” I force out, and thwap one more mind obliterating swipe. I’m lost to darkness. Then come back to burning and pain in my orbs. I’ve turned sideways, and am cradling my balls which are still trapped by the noose, and holding the weight.

“Good job picking a switch, honey.” My wife says pleasantly. “I’m not sure I could have done better myself.” Then she leans down, drops the switch beside me, and pets me on the side as I’m still shaking from the pain.

“I’m going to start dinner,” she says as she walks away. “We’ll do a weenie roast afterwards, then one more round with the switch before bed.”

I grit my teeth and quiver in pain.

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Looking for volunteers to edit my stories before I post them, send me a DM if you are interested.