Amber Grip

Part II of "My Wife Finished Me".



My wife, Amber, had already given me a "ball-breaker cure," and she had indeed cured me of the fetish with a couple of well-placed kicks. The memory of that day came flooding back. I saw the sudden force of that quick kick and the unmistakable sensation of her foot driving my testicles toward my throat. Then, curling up in the fetal position, frantically searching for my missing testicle. Then I remember the second kick being brutal. It left me clutching ice to my balls for hours, desperate for the swelling to go down. It was the worst.


Every time she joked about it, the memories came flooding back. From that moment on, she couldn't resist making jokes about "fixing me," "grabbing my balls," or even "making me wear them like a tie, with a kick." She repeated like a broken record:

"The dishes are waiting for their bath!" One quick kick will teach you a lesson.

"You forgot to turn off the lights! I'll drag you by your balls while you flip every switch!"

I laughed, remembering her power to send me flying with a single kick. Her threats had made me more compliant. One day, in the middle of my hectic routine, I made the mistake of leaving the bed unmade. When I got home, she said, "Tonight, while you sleep, I'm going to tie a string from your balls to your fingertips. A little tug in the morning will remind you to make your bed!"

Her threats had taken a darker turn. Once, while I was making lemonade, she declared, "I've found a new purpose for this juicer," and pointed it at my groin.


The mere thought of my testicles being crushed by a lemon squeezer sent a shiver down my spine, making me instinctively clench my hands and let out a silent, agonizing scream.


My fear of her had diminished the spark in our intimate moments. I found solace in the digital realm, escaping into the world of porn and playful messages with Karla, a friend from work.


My connection with Karla was limited to digital whispers on WhatsApp. We flirted, and she would send me pictures of her magnificent breasts—a magnificent pair, crowned with dark, deliciously small nipples—and I would lose myself in their beauty, finding comfort in her embrace. I mustered the courage to ask her out.


That night, I told Amber I had a crucial business dinner. I got ready and put on cologne for the occasion. Karla's curves consumed my thoughts, and that day, I felt a new and powerful urge: to cheat on my wife.

Amber's eyes lit up when she saw me fully dressed, and she blurted out:

"You look stunning," she said.

I planted a cheeky kiss on her, and she responded with a kiss that was pure fire. Her hands danced as she undressed me. "Tonight, I'm going to have a wild night with two incredible women. I'm the fucking boss," I declared. That thought ignited a playful spark within me.

I pulled out a pair of handcuffs that had been gathering dust and playfully asked her to put them on me. She tied me to the bed, undressed me, and began a delicious handjob. Amber's performance was about to send me into a whirlwind of pleasure, and all I could dream about was her riding me.

I closed my eyes and said, "Baby, you're going to make me come..." At that moment, I felt her left hand firmly grasp my balls, and she asked, "Who's Karla?"

"Karl...?" Amber's hand gripped my testicles tightly, squeezing them. I barely finished my question before a sudden gasp ripped through me, shattering my voice into a scream.

"Oh my God, my balls! Oh my God, my balls!" My voice tore through the air, a scream of pure terror, three times in the blink of an eye. "Let them go, please," I begged, my eyes wide with desperation. She fixed her gaze on mine. Her gaze was fixed, her jaw clenched with determination.

My balls were squeezed into a tight knot, and a wave of pain surged up my stomach, leaving me breathless. I struggled to reach for my testicles, hoping to free myself from Amber's grip, but with my hands tied to the bed, I was helpless.

"WHO IS KARLA?" she screamed, tightening her grip.

My eyes filled with tears. Instinctively, I swallowed, trying to suppress the rising tide of agony, but it was useless. A sharp pain now settled in my chest, and my erection was gone.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," I cried, my breath fading. "Let me go!" But my pleas only fueled her rage, and her grip tightened with every word I spoke.

"TELL ME." A firm grip.

"WHO?" A firm grip.

"IS." A firm grip.

"KARLA." A loooooong, terrible grip.


"AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGH," I screamed.


My legs thrashed in a desperate dance to escape Amber's relentless grip. But her grip was unyielding: her thumb and forefinger formed a trap, lifting my testicles from my pelvis and catching them between her remaining fingers and the palm of her hand. Then she closed her fist, erasing my evidence trapped there. She had me, literally, by the balls. There was no escape.


For almost two minutes, Amber had been a playful torturer, squeezing and tugging at my balls with playful abandon, like she was milking a cow!


Then, with a sudden twist of her hand, she tangled the delicate spermatic cords of my testicles...

AAAAAAAAAGH! MY BALLS! Let go...

My scream was abruptly cut short by a sudden jerk, plunging me into a silent abyss. Amber's pull sent my insides plummeting. She leaned closer and said menacingly, "Tell me, or I'll rip them out."

My testicles were trapped, pressed together, desperately searching for a little breathing room. She was squeezing my balls, but the pain shot straight up my throat. I gave up.


"She's a friend from work who's been flirting with me."


She quickly released my balls. A wave of relief washed over me, and I let my eyes close. Amber planted herself right in front of me, gathered her strength, and delivered a thunderous kick directly to my groin.


CLAAAAAAAAAAP.


These horrible popping sounds reminded me of my previous ball-breaker trauma. At first, I felt time slow down. I felt Amber's foot explode both my testicles, my spermatic cord recoil, and my balls hide inside my body in a very painful process. My mind escaped to a very similar moment: the time Amber, from behind, sent my orbs flying to the moon with that vicious kick.


I felt nauseous, like I was going to throw up my broken testicles, but I can't. I cried:

Amber, you broke my testicles. HELP, MY BALLS!


Amber freed me from the shackles. My hands immediately searched for my now-bound testicles, but they were nowhere to be found. They were trapped deep inside me.


"Amber, call a doctor," I insisted, sobbing as I curled up in a fetal position.


Amber reached for her phone, opened Karla's chat, and began typing:

"I'm afraid I won't be able to see you today, honey. I have a bit of a stomachache."