Happy ending - stitched up by a colleague

“Damn man, I am jealous! The Bangkok work trips are the BEST dude”.

James and Dylan were in the office kitchen.

“You been a few times then?” Asked Dylan, barely concealing his glee at the fact he’d made the invite list and James hadn’t.

“Yeah man, it’s a great city, the drinks are always free, swanky hotels and all the other associates meet up to go clubbing after” James reeled off wistfully.

“Ah a few drinks is fun, but honestly, I want to relax, warm weather and some quiet nights in” Dylan replied, “maybe a cheap massage if I can avoid any of the places that give out happy endings, certainly don’t want to get fired for that on a work trip!”

“For real man, I know a good place if you want the name, honestly they all do happy endings, but this place is good, they’ll only do it if you ask - otherwise they’re just a normal spa” James grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the name. “Just make sure you don’t ask for the red plums, then you’ll be fine” and with a wink he handed Dylan the piece of paper and headed back to his desk.

————————————

Everyone was right, Bangkok was wild. The actual conference elements were condensed into a few short hours, the drinks started early on a rooftop and before long the partners had all headed off, leaving a group of randy associates with free-flowing booze. After far more beers than he’d originally planned, Dylan decided the night was done and headed back to his hotel. Fumbling through his wallet for his key card he found the note from James, “lemongrass spa, Bangkok - don’t ask for the red plums”.

His dick twitched. He gave the place a quick google search, open until midnight, it was only 9:30pm. Fuck it, when was he going to have this chance again. Hailing a cab he was at the spa in 15mins, nervous excitement burning in him.

“Hello Sir” the pretty Asian receptionist greeted him, “we have a few slots left for this evening if you would like a massage”.

“Yes please, how much for the full body Thai massage?” He enquired.

“400Bh for the full body without fruit, or 1000Bh to include fruit, sir” she smiled at him knowingly.

This was the moment, he could feel his cock hardening, tenting in his trousers, it had always been a fantasy of his to be sucked off face down through a glory hole table.

“I’ll, umm, I’ll add the red plums please” he stuttered, avoiding looking directly at the receptionist. If he had, he may have noticed her eyes momentarily widen in shock before she recovered herself.

“Yes of course sir, please insert your card and sign these health and safety waivers”.

The admin completed in a haze of horniness, Dylan sat back down in the waiting room already rock hard. At 10pm the receptionist came and collected him.

“You’re in room Q3 Sir, please follow me, it’s one of our tailored quiet rooms” she showed him in to what looked like a normal spa room, albeit with some obvious sound-proofing and noise cancelling. The massage table looked almost normal, however there were restrains on each corner for each of his limbs.

“If you want to remove your clothes and get yourself all sorted, the masseuse will be with you in about 5minutes” she quietly left the room, leaving Dylan to strip off to the calming whale noises and soft lighting.

Dylan dropped his boxers and pulled off his top, his cock was starting to get soft again with the sheer nerves of what he’d signed himself up for. As he got onto the table he realised that unlike a traditional massage table it had two holes, one much smaller for his dick and balls to pass through, with a rubber silicone rim to hold it all in place, and the usual hole for his head. The head hole had an extra feature, a bright red ball gag and a strap which could be fastened over the back of his head to prevent him pulling his head out.

‘I guess they cater for all tastes’ he thought, gently climbing on to the table and pushing his junk through the hole. The fit was snug and held his package perfectly in place.

Dylan had been blessed with fat, low hanging balls, his cock however was a mere 5” hard and pretty thin. In his semi hard state, it didn’t hang as low as his ripe juicy plums, but for what he’d unwittingly sign up for, that wasn’t going to be an issue.

Just as Dylan rested his head into the hole and locked his jaw around the ball gag he heard the door open softly.

“Hello Sir” said the masseuse in dulcet tones, she pulled a towel off the stack and gently laid it over his naked body, pulling down the top half to expose his shoulders. She then applied a liberal amount of massage oil to his back and began to slowly work the muscles on his shoulders and neck.

Dylan relaxed, forgetting momentarily that his junk was spilling out under the table or that he had a gag in his mouth.

“Is the pressure okay for you Sir?” she asked.

“Mm-hm” he replied, unable to really indicate either way, but his relaxed tone told her there was no issue. Just after his response she gently picked up the strap and clicked the latch behind his head, somewhere deep in Dylan’s brain he registered that his mean he could no longer move his head back, or get off the bed easily, but at this moment he had no desire to.

Over the course of the next ten minutes this process repeated itself as the masseuse would rub down his arms, hands and fingers before softly applying the restraints at the end of each limb. By this time Dylan was trapped, each arm, both legs and his head were securely fastened whilst his balls hung relaxed and vulnerable under him.

Without any change in pace, the masseuse knelt down on a pillow and moved under the table like she was about to milk a cow, applying the same oil she softly took Dylan’s manhood in her hands and began to rub them gently, once his cock was fully hard she moved to his balls, slowly she increased the pressure until it was more like she had applied to his hands. “Is that pressure okay Sir?” She asked, “mmhh-hmm” Dylan responded, in honestly he wanted to say it was a little hard, but he assumed she wouldn’t spend too much of the remaining 45mins on his sack. How wrong he was.

“Ah ok Sir, I will go a little harder if you like?” She questioned rhetorically, without waiting for an answer, doubled the pressure on his balls, each milking downward stroke pinched his ball between her fingers and the palm of her hand and pulled them unrelentingly towards the floor. After three more organising downward yaks Dylan decided he couldn’t take any more.

“Mmhmm-mhm-mm-ahh” Dylan moaned into the ball gag attempting to explain the pressure with too much.

“Certainly sir, I can go harder.” The masseuse responded, suppressing a giggle, and this time she held nothing back squeezing his sack like pulp from an orange.

Dylan’s calm, relaxed state evaporated, he quickly realised the only way to get through the nut crushing was to remain silent. He bit down hard on the ball gag, his hips bucking wildly as his body attempted to protect his precious jewels. After 5 more ball popping tugs the masseuse moved back to his cock. The brutal ball crushing had reduced his hard on to a 2 inch soft cock leaking pre-cum. Despite the immense pain, in his rapidly swelling balls, Dylan’s cock responded to her touch and soon pulsing stiff again.

“Okay sir, as you did not choose the cucumber or chilli options, I will be focusing just on the plums now” she informed him and deftly attached his cock to the roof of the massage table with a quick Velcro tie, leaving his heavy sack alone to hang below the table. Dylan’s thoughts were blinded by pain, cucumber or chilli? What had he signed up to? The pain was slowly receding, but he knew that was at least half an hour of the massage left and it sounded like she wasn’t moving on from his nuts any time soon.

The masseuse moved around the room preparing items, Dylan heard her set up the soft click of a metronome, it’s low-level tapping beating out a slow rhythm, at first every two seconds. Back under the table, Dylan’s heavy fat nuts were hanging undefended.

“Sir they look swollen but not yet the right shade of red to be plums, so now I punch, ok?” Without waiting for an answer she began to drive her fist directly up into the sensitive nutsack, each punch flattened them into the table, causing untold agony to the stud above, timed perfectly to the metronome.

“Mmhmm-hhhm-hmmm” Dylan began to almost weep into the ball gag. He knew the room was soundproof and he knew this sadistic masseuse wasn’t going to let up but he couldn’t help himself from crying out.

After what left like an eternity of consistently cruel upper cuts she changed tact, upping the speed of the metronome, the masseuse began slapping his balls rapidly. Before long his nuts were flying around, ricocheting back to knock into the table before swinging back to meet another violence slap. The masseuse was slapping the way you might bitch slap your ex around the face, and he was sure he could hear giggling as he moaned into the ball gag.

Suddenly the clicking stopped and so did the sadistic slaps. Dylan heard her moving around as he dared to hope the hour was nearly over. He felt her gently reach out and fondle his aching nutsacks.

“Sir, your plums are definitely ripe, but they are still not the right shade of red” she moved a 5 shade colour pallet onto the floor below the hole his face was locked into, “your balls are only level 2 and you paid for at least level 3, I normally strive for 4 to make sure we have given a customer full satisfaction sir”.

Dylan tried to shake his head, he shouted into the gag, it was fine, he would leave with a shade 2 of red plums, but all that came out was unintelligible groaning.

“Yes exactly sir, I need to be a little rough with them to get them to the right shade, you will get what you paid for, don’t worry.”



‘If the last 45 minutes of ruthless ball torture didn’t count as being rough with them, what on earth was she going to do next?’ Dylan thought in misery.

“Stubborn balls like yours is why we keep a few paddles.” With ruthless efficiency, she attached a strong cord around his nut sack and added what felt like at least 2kgs of weight. Held perfectly in place and already being uncomfortably yanked on by the weight, she began to deal killer blows his precious jewels, without the slightest ability to swing around now they absorbed the full force of each paddle stroke.

Dylan could no longer take the pain, with tears streaming down his face he began to blackout, coming round each time the Earth shattering paddle collided with his manhood. After a few short minutes of this Dylan‘s balls were reduced not just to bright red, but a deep blue and purple.

“Perfect sir, we have your perfect red plums, I will now leave you to enjoy the spa for a few minutes” almost noiselessly, the masseuse added a further 2 kg weight to his practically demolished balls and let herself out of the room.

Dylan lay in agony, unsure if he even still possessed a pair of testicles. All he knew was pain radiating from his abdomen. He was acutely aware of the weight mercilessly dragging his balls towards the floor, but unable to move or even lift his head he could only lay there whilst the relaxing Spa music echo around him.

After what felt like hours he heard the door open, the receptionist had come to collect him. “Oh sir, I see you are still enjoying the facilities.”

“HMM-MMM-HMMM” Dylan screamed into the gag and thrashed around on the table. As much as she wanted to pretend to misinterpret this response the receptionist knew she’d better release the poor client. Some dudes think they want ballbusting until they book in and then they get cold feet. She slowly removed each of the restraints in turn, neglecting to remove the crippling weight from his now rapidly swelling balls.

The second his head was free Dylan was begging “please please, remove the weight from my balls please”.

“Ah yes sir, of course” she ducked down and deftly removed the tie, noting the shrivelled inch of flaccid penis was now dwarfed by one of the reddist, most pulverised ball bags she’d ever seen, damn Mindy had really done a number on this guy.

“Sir please complete this client questionnaire whilst I collect your clothes” said the receptionist as she slipped out of the room.

The last thing Dylan wanted to do was provide feedback to his torturers, he wanted to curl up into the fetal position and not move for about 8 days whilst his balls recovered. Gingerly he looked at the form, “Red Plums: complete testicle beating” below the title there were a series of questions to agree or disagree with, he skimmed down the list “I felt my nuts were appropriately bruised after the session”, “I felt I could not escape my fate during the session”, the list went on. Fuck, they thought he’d really wanted this! He was gunna kill James when he got back to the office.