My Poor Balls: Chapter 21: Sunday: The Long Painful Walk Home (Cock Torture, Ball Kicks)
**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](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/104ljcm/my_poor_balls_chapter_17_picking_my_own_switch/) (Kicking, Caning)
* [Chapter 18](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/10bptiz/my_poor_balls_chapter_18_weenie_roast_cock_burning/) (Cock Burning)
* [Chapter 19](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/1aw4119/my_poor_balls_chapter_19_good_night_beating_caning/) (Caning)
* [Chapter 20](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/1aw4c0j/my_poor_balls_chapter_20_wake_up_and_smell_the/) (Caning, Kicking, Taser)
# Chapter 21: Sunday: The Long Painful Walk Home (Cock Torture, Ball Kicks)
Every step sent fresh waves of nausea rolling through my gut. My balls had never felt this wrecked after a session — not even after the really bad needle nights. The left one was grotesquely swollen, hanging lower and heavier than the right, constantly bumping against my thigh and sending sharp reminders with every movement. But the worst pain wasn’t even in the balls themselves. It was deeper, higher up — that sick, pulled-muscle ache from the taser that made me want to vomit with every jolt of my hips.
I kept my mouth shut about it. Complaining never helped. It only gave her ideas.
When the campsite was finally packed, my wife came over holding the coiled clothesline rope that had served as my leash on the way in. She didn’t say a word at first — just fashioned a fresh noose with practiced fingers and held it out to me expectantly.
I took a shaky breath, spread my stance, and carefully worked the loop around my tender, swollen sack. The moment I started tightening it, the rope bit into the already bruised cords above my testicles. A low whine escaped my throat before I could stop it.
She gave the rope an experimental tug before I was even ready. My whole body lurched forward, knees buckling as white-hot pain flared through my groin. I nearly dropped to the dirt right there.
“…really do seem a tad worn out this morning,” she finished, clearly amused that I’d missed the beginning of her sentence while I was busy gasping.
“I… I don’t think I can manage a ‘ball’ hike like this,” I admitted, voice cracking. Looking up into her calm, pretty face, the shame hit me hard. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”
She stepped closer, cupped my cheek for a second, then smiled softly. “Honey, it’s okay.” Without another word she lifted her shirt and bra, exposing those beautiful heavy breasts I adore. She grabbed my wrist and pressed my palm firmly against one warm, soft breast. “Here. Have a little tit time until you feel ready.”
I leaned in immediately, burying my face against the other one, breathing her in. For a few precious seconds the pain faded into the background.
“Well, look at that,” she said with a light laugh, glancing down. “That thing still works just fine.” My cock had hardened despite everything. She reached into her pack and pulled out the broken tent pole — the one she liked to use for “weinie roasts.” A thin length of fishing line was already tied to the end. With careful, deliberate movements she lassoed the head of my penis and cinched it tight.
She gave the pole a little wave from side to side. The thin line dug in cruelly. I had no choice but to follow every twitch or risk it slicing deeper.
“Hands,” she commanded cheerfully.
I turned around without protest. The zip-ties ratcheted tight behind my back, biting into my wrists.
She shouldered her pack, gave the fishing line a firm tug, and started walking. “Let’s go, sweetie.”
The hike was pure torment. Every step made my swollen left nut swing and slap painfully. The constant pull on my cock-head kept me stumbling forward at her pace while the deep ache above my balls made me feel like I was going to be sick. I fought the urge to close my legs or slow down with everything I had. Those fucking balls were going to get me in even more trouble if I couldn’t keep up.
After what felt like forever she suddenly jerked the pole downward hard, forcing me to my knees.
“Let’s take a break,” she said brightly, lowering her pack. She took a long drink from her canteen, then held it to my lips like I was a child. When I’d finished she leaned against a tree and looked me over with that familiar playful glint in her eye.
“Boy howdy, that mushroom head is turning a lovely shade of purple,” she observed. “I bet it’s so numb it barely feels anything anymore.”
“It hurts…” I whispered.
She giggled, the sound light and cruel. “Poor thing.” Then she bent down, picked up a rough pinecone from the forest floor, and pressed it firmly against my exposed piss-slit. She started rubbing it back and forth aggressively, grinding the sharp edges into the sensitive opening.
I couldn’t help squirming. She immediately grabbed the base of my cock to hold it steady. “None of that now.”
When she finally got bored she tossed the pinecone aside and plucked a long, stiff pine needle from a nearby branch. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I’ve got a fun little challenge for you,” she said. “If you can carry this pine needle all the way back to the car in your pee-hole without it falling out, I won’t kick the balls even once before you get inside. Sound fair?”
I knew it wasn’t. Nothing ever was. But I still nodded quickly. “Okay… I’ll try.”
She smiled sweetly and slowly worked the long needle down my urethra. The intrusion was oddly intimate and uncomfortable, but compared to everything else it was almost nothing.
Without another word she picked up the tent-pole leash and gave it a sharp jerk. “Walk time.”
The rest of the hike was worse. The fishing line had started cutting into the flesh behind my cockhead, burning with every tug. Tears blurred my vision as I struggled to keep pace, the swollen left ball bouncing painfully with every forced step. I kept glancing down, terrified the pine needle would slip free.
When the car finally came into view through the trees she paused.
“Well, well…” she said, voice dripping with mock disappointment.
I looked down. The pine needle was still there — barely — the end just barely visible at my slit.
She grinned. “Only a few more feet, honey. You were so close.”
Then she took off again, deliberately shaking the pole violently from side to side and up and down as we stepped out of the tree line into the ditch beside the car. The fishing line tore deeper. I cried out as the needle was yanked free and disappeared into the grass.
“Three kicks it is,” she announced cheerfully, as if she’d just decided on dinner. “Get on your knees.”
I struggled down, pack still heavy on my back, hands bound, legs shaking. Spreading them hurt so much my body screamed at me to close up and protect the balls. I fought that instinct with everything I had and presented my battered, swollen sack to her.
She used the tent pole to hold my aching cock up and out of the way. “With that big swelling from the officer’s baton earlier, I’ll bet this is really going to teach that naughty left nut a lesson.”
She pulled her hiking boot back and smashed it forward with full force.
The impact exploded through my groin. I pitched forward, gagging and sobbing, unable to find any position that didn’t make it worse with my hands tied and the pack weighing me down. I ended up face down in the muck, while also still on my knees.
“Uh-uh,” she chided gently. “I said three kicks. Get those legs back open for me, sweetie.”
“I… I can’t…” I whimpered.
She studied me for a moment, then softened just a fraction. “Okay. Just open your legs as wide as you can. I’ll do the rest.”
I took a shuddering breath and forced my trembling thighs apart, offering my mangled testicles again even as every nerve in my body begged me to curl up and hide them.
She walked around behind me, and then commanded “Wider,”
I obeyed.
Her boot slammed in again, catching the swollen left ball dead-on. The world went white. I dry-heaved violently, fighting not to pass out, I ended up on my side.
Before I could recover she nudged my side lightly with her toe. “One more, honey. Be a good boy and spread for me.”
I somehow managed to open my legs one last time, tears streaming down my face. The final kick wasn’t perfectly aimed — part of it caught my thigh — but the shockwave still ripped through my brutalized balls. I tried and failed to curl into a fetal position, vision blurring.
She crouched down, cut the zip-ties off my wrists, and stroked my hair gently while I gasped.
“There we go. All done.” She leaned in close, her voice warm and loving. “I love you.”
Her hand shot down without warning and crushed my swollen balls in a firm, lingering grip. I whimpered into her shoulder as fresh agony bloomed.
She kissed my temple and whispered, “Now load those silly, troublemaking balls into the car before I decide to leave one of them behind as a souvenir.”
I nodded weakly, still fighting for breath. Despite everything — the pain, the humiliation, the way my body hated me right now — I couldn’t help but smile just a little.
It really had been a good trip.
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**Meta Note:** Sorry for the years of delay. I never found an editor that was a good fit. I finally found an AI tool to assist me with editing. It is my hope to post more regularly now that I have an AI assistant. I have about 15 more drafted stories.
I really appreciate feedback. Throw me a comment if you like my writing to let me know what you'd like to see in the future.