Daddy’s Balls Chapter 2: Hard Balls Thursday (Incest, Discovery, Ball Caning)

**Disclaimer**:  These stories are a work of fiction.  All of the characters depicted are at least 18 years old.  None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted.  

Previous chapters:

* [Chapter 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/comments/1scku4o/daddys_balls_chapter_1_soft_balls_tuesday_incest/) (Incest, Discovery, Vice Crushing)



# Daddy’s Balls Chapter 2: Hard Balls Thursday



Denise couldn’t get the image of Lizzy’s dad’s balls out of her head. When they were flattened in the vice they were so oddly shaped. Huge in circumference, pale, almost white, but no more than three-quarter inch thick. If that was ‘soft balls’, what could ‘hard balls’ mean? It was scary to be in the orbit of such a weird ritual. The family, unlike any other she had met, was clearly comfortable with the shocking image of Lizzy’s dad naked tied to a coffee table with his testicles flattened.

Lizzy wasn’t interested in having Denise over again after how weird she had been, and how unable to focus on chemistry. But Denise had a plan. She’d kissed Tyson, and implied he could get to 2nd base with her, if he invited her over on Thursday. Tyson was clearly a virgin, and had jumped at the opportunity, but warned Denise that Thursdays are family night, and they would have to play games with his sisters and mom before they could have any alone time.

So now Denise stood on the threshold, the doorway in front of her led to the answer to the mysteries that had plagued her. Tyson’s sweaty palm in hers was pulling her through the doorway after her brief pause. In she went, walking, shoes off in the mud room, coat hung on the coat rack, through the kitchen into the living room. Tyson, now the one not keeping up.

Ruth was sitting on the couch reading a paper, and looked up. “Oh, hi Denise. Did you come to see Lizzy?”

Denise looked at her. A stunningly attractive woman, despite her years. What powers did this woman command to have a husband willing to submit to the agony she had seen only two days prior?

“No. She’s with me. Uh.. we were going to hang out after family night.” Tyson clarifies.

“Tyson, that’s great. I love to see you with a girl, especially a pretty one like Denise here.” She turns to Denise, “Honey, we do family night on Thursday, you are welcome to join us.”

“Sure” Denise says as she tries and fails to play it cool. Anticipation and fear mixing together to give her an otherworldly feeling. “Is tonight ‘hard balls’ or ‘soft balls’?” she asks, hoping that pretending not to know would cover for her intense desire to figure out what-ever ‘hard balls’ meant.

Ruth grins. “It’s ‘hard balls’ tonight honey.” she says, not elaborating. “Now where is that husband of mine?”

Ruth steps to the patio door, and calls out: “John! Are you about ready? We have a guest tonight!”

From outside, Denise hears, “Come on out, I’m almost ready.”

Ruth steps back, and shouts up the stairs. “Girls! Dad is ready for family night.”

“OK Mom” and “Be right down” come from two different voices.

Ruth heads out to the patio, and Denise is tight on her heels eager to solve the mystery.

John is standing pantless just outside. He is pulling on a ball gag, like in movies Denise had seen. John was a scrawny man, with a bushy mustache and a simple jacket, no pants or underwear, and knee length socks that look silly. He wasn’t particularly attractive, and didn’t seem like someone that would have won over Ruth, or produced daughters like Lizzy and April. Maybe it was his ‘magic balls’ Denise thought, and glanced down.

John’s limp penis hung down, but not quite as long as his testicles. Both appeared of average size as well as Denise could tell.

Ball gag in place, John stepped up to a plank of wood that was securely fastened at waist level between two pillars. With a practiced ease, he slid his genitals through a hole in the board, and secured his penis out of the way with some sort of latching mechanism. Then he picked up a small loop sitting on top of the board, and, stretching it, he placed it over his testicles. Then a 2nd loop followed. Now his testicles were tightly bound protruding through the board, and sticking roughly straight out several inches.

Finally, he put his hands to the side. There were cuffs on his wrist, and metal loops protruded upward from the board.

“Alright girls, hook him in.” Ruth ordered.

Lizzy and April each step up to the board, and using a carabiner, clip the shackles to the metal loops. Now John is helpless.

Ruth eyes the situation, and decides that everything is ready, and she steps to a closet, and withdraws a wooden stick about 2 feet long, and ¼ inch thick.

She holds it out to Lizzy, “Youngest goes first”

Lizzy casts an eye at Denise. “Denise is younger.  She is just a freshman. She should go first.”

Ruth holds the stick out to Denise. Denise panics, and takes 2 steps back. “Wha… Wha… What do you want me to do with that?” Stepping back another step she backs into Tyson.

Tyson explains, “We are testing daddy’s ability to make his balls hard. Each person takes 3 swings with the cane. Tonight we have to break 5 canes until we are sure Daddy’s balls are hard enough.”

“But you're a freshman, Too!” Denise exclaims louder than intended. “Why don’t you go first?”

Lizzy looks at Denise, and explains as if it’s a basic concept to a slow pupil. “Tyson has balls. Little boy wussy balls, but still balls. Only those without balls can test balls.”

Ruth tries to hand Denise the stick again. Denise, still terrified, says “No. I can’t. I mean, I can, but I’d prefer to just watch this time.” She looks up at Ruth. “Is that OK?”

“Sure is, sweety” Ruth says, and hands the cane to Lizzy.

Lizzy steps up, and measures her stroke by slowly moving the cane into contact with John’s trapped balls, then she rears back and swings with gusto.  The cane lays a red stripe right across the middle of John’s tightly packaged balls.  

“One” Ruth, April, and Tyson all chant in unison.  Lizzy swings again, and Denise hears a swoosh in the air followed by a thwack as the cane makes contact.  

“Two” the assembled watchers chant.

Swoosh. ThwackDenise marvels at the sounds, and the point of impact, where the cane seems to embed itself briefly into the testicle meat before bouncing away, leaving a clearly visible, angry red welt where it impacted.  

“Three” everyone chants.  Denise tries to chant with them, but is a bit late.

Lizzy eyes her handiwork.  “Still too soft,” she hands the cane off to April.   

As the cane is passed, Denise studies John.  He is in agony.  Thrashing against the immovable piece of wood. Trying desperately to contort his body to find some relief.  His balls are so effectively immobilized that despite his struggles, they remain unmoving displaying the angry red stripes put there by his youngest daughter.

April sizes up her position, and swings.  Swoosh, Thwack.  

“Four”.  This time Denise moves her mouth silently along with the chant.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Five.” Denise joins in quietly—curiosity winning.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.” Denise joins full voice, grinning despite herself. “Still jiggling,” April says, hands it on to Ruth.

Ruth authoritatively takes position, and sizes up her swing. 

Swish, crack.  The cane hits the testicles with an obliterating force, and snaps in half.  

“Whoo!” April and Lizzy are cheering.  

“Good Job Daddy, Only took 7 swings before your balls got harder than the cane.” April praises, but it is clear John can’t hear it.  His struggling is desperate, and animalistic, every inch of his wiry frame is trying to find some way to relieve the pain of his man parts.  His sack sags now, purple creeping in from the edges, skin stretched shiny.

Ruth picks up the next—six-and-a-half millimeters. 

“It’s not over?” Denise asks.  

Ruth looks surprised as if that was a particularly stupid question.  “No, honey, of course not.  He’s got to break all 5 canes, and each one is a little thicker than the last.”  

“It started out as only one cane, but every few years, mommy adds another,” Tyson explains helpfully.   

Ruth swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John's eyes squeeze shut, thighs quiver.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Two.” A sharp hiss—he's breathing ragged.

Lizzy takes over. Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.” Denise is getting in on the chanting with gusto by this point.  Welts darken, stacking.

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Four”

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Five”

“Not hard enough yet.” Lizzy says, as she hands the cane to April.   

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Six”.  A tiny break in the scrotum skin becomes visible, a bright red line against the welted flesh.

“Come on Daddy,” April encourages as she gives the cane to Ruth.  

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Nine”

Swish, crack. The 2nd cane breaks.  April and Lizzy cheer their mom again, while Denise studies the testicles.  Some of the welts have gone from red to black, and many criss cross at this point to create protruding bruises on the cluster of balls.  

John’s energy is clearly waning.  He is pale, and while still struggling, seems to be having difficulty putting in much effort.

“What happens if he passes out?”  Denise asks Ruth, a bit concerned and frightened.  

“Then we wake him up, and keep going,” Ruth says.

“It happens occasionally, sometimes daddy takes little naps,” April adds.

“Here you go mom” Lizzy hands her mom the next cane. seven millimeters.

Ruth swings—Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John gasps, head snaps back, then she politely hands the cane to her youngest daughter.

Lizzy swings. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Four.” His sack compresses flat, rebounds slow.

April. “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Seven.” Purple deepens, veins bulge. Welts grow up on top of other welts creating a mountain range of pain.

Ruth swings. “Eight.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Nine.”

This is fucked up, Denise thought, even as the grin stayed plastered on her face. Why does hearing them count make my stomach flip in the good way?

Swoosh. Thwack. “Ten.”

Lizzy takes over, lining up, and swings. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Thirteen.”  Then Lizzy hands the cane to her sister.

April Swings. “Fourteen.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”

Swish, crack. When the cane lands, a crack is heard.  Denise inspects the punished ball back looking for signs that the testicles broke, but it was the cane instead.  April holds it up proud that she was the one to administer the final blow.

“Fifteen,” Ruth says, calm. “Not your best, John.”

Denise observes John.  His whole body is shaking uncontrollably. She thinks to herself that testicles must be pretty weird if they can make a man vibrate like a washing machine in a spin cycle loaded with shoes. She has no idea the biology at play here, but it is fascinating, she wants to see more.

Ruth calls the fourth—seven-and-a-half millimeters. “April, finish your set.”

April swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John twitches hard.

Ruth takes over. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Four.”  Ruth hands it to Lizzy who was distracted, and looking at her phone.

Lizzy lines up “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Seven.”  Then Lizzy gives the cane to April, saying “Beat that sis”

April didn’t see the need to respond with words.  Instead the meaty wet thwack was her response as the cane buried itself into her father’s gonads. 

“Eight.”  the group called out.  Denise realized the chanting made it so much more engaging.  She wondered who came with that, but she didn’t have much time to think because. Swoosh. Thwack.

“Nine!”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Ten.”  

April hands the cane to Ruth.

Ruth swings brutally as if she is trying to cane the board behind john’s balls instead of the balls themselves. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Thirteen.”  

Then it is Lizzy’s turn.. Swoosh. Thwack. 

“Fourteen!”  Denise adds a jubilant tone to her voice as she joins the chant.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”  Streaks of red have appeared from small skin breaks leaking blood.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Sixteen.”

Swish, crack. Lizzy holds up the broken cane to display how she was the one who broke it.

“Sixteen,” April cheers. “Better.”

John was slumped down.  Dangling limply.   The only sign that he was still conscious was the pain spasm after each stroke.  John's shaking had mostly settled down, but his eyes were glazed and his sack was a swollen, veined platter.  A display platform for stacked welts, bruises all sauced in testicle blood..

Denise was amazed.  What was happening was every bit as alien as any lovecraftian horror, and just like those stories she craved more.

Ruth grabs the last cane.  Eight millimeters. Hands it to April saying, “April starts.”

April swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Then Ruth takes over “Four.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

John is barely reacting at all when the cane brutalizes his testicles at this point.  He might be unconscious or even dead.  Denise hoped he wasn’t dead.  

Lizzy sets down her phone to take up the cane Swoosh. Thwack. 

“Seven!” everyone chants.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Eight.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Nine.”  Then she hands the cane to her sister.

April swings, connects with a sickening swap “Ten!”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.” 

After delivering all 3 strokes of her turn, April spins the cane around, and hands it to her mom, then realizes she got a little bit of her dad’s ball blood on her hand as she does so.  “Ew gross!”  She wipes her hand off on towels that Denise just realized had been there the whole time.  Was it John’s job to lay out towels in case his testicle blood got on his daughters?  That seems insane, but certainly not an escalation from anything else Denise had just witnessed.

Denise lets curiosity and fear overcome social awkwardness.  “Um… Is he dead?”  

Ruth looks at her concerned.  “Oh honey, No.  What kind of people do you think we are that we’d kill a member of our family?”

What kind of people?  Ha!  Denise laughs inside.  What kind of people were they?  They seemed to abuse John’s balls as a matter of routine.  Lizzy is so bored by it, she is scrolling instagram!  What kind of monsters are these people…. And why does Denise want to see more. 

“Ha um. Ha. ha.” Denise laughs unconvincingly.  “Obviously I don’t think… um that you… I mean. That you would kill your husband, but um… He isn’t moving.  Um.. is he maybe unconscious?”  Her voice goes up at the end.

“I don’t think so.” April answers in a way that makes it clear she isn’t fully sure.

Ruth decides actions speak louder than words.  She walks up closer than she has before, and instead of swinging the cane horizontally into the exposed section of John’s testicles that are a bloody mess of welts, she comes up from the bottom, striking a section of ball meat that has mostly escaped abuse to this point. John thrashes from new vectors of pain.  His struggle is weak, but there.

“Thirteen!” April, Lizzy, and Ruth call out.  Tyson looks a little unsure, and Denise is thinking about what that means.  Was there a spot that wakes him up?  What did Ruth just do?  Who are these people?  Denise ponders if she could learn some of Ruth’s tricks.

Ruth swings again from the more traditional angle. Swoosh. Thwack. “Fourteen.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”

Denise was awestruck.   “How is it that his balls don’t break?” She asks aloud.

Ruth replies, “I’m sure they will some day, but so long as they are able to keep taking the treatments twice a week they are worthy of me.”

“Wow.” Denise says wistfully.

“Daddy has magic balls.  Wussy balls like Tyson’s would have broken years ago.  Isn’t that right Ty?”  Lizzy mocks.

“My balls are going to be just fine when they start taking canings.”  Tyson implores with a sense of doubt creeping into his voice.

April sees an opportunity to gang up on her little brother so says, “Why don’t we make the last cane interesting?  The person who breaks the cane gets to kick little ty-ty in his ballie-wallies 10 times?”

Tyson turns red with embarrassment at the mockery.  

Ruth considers the offer, and deems it fair.  “OK.  Tyson will get 10 kicks from the breaker of the final cane.”

Tyson accepts his fate, but then looks at Denise.  “Mom, would it be OK if Denise competes with the last cane?”

Ruth considers that.  “Of course, Tyson, but only if she wants to, and we will have to up the reward to 20 kicks for the breaker of the cane.”

Fear crosses Tyson’s face, but he looks at Denise, and then back at his mom and nods agreement.

Evaluating her final swing, she turns to Denise. “Your turn, sweetie. Three swings.”

Denise doesn’t realize that she is being addressed, because she is staring at the mass of mangled balls trying to imagine what they looked like at the beginning of the evening.  They don’t even look human any more. 

Ruth steps between Denise and the abused testicles of her husband and says, “Sweety, I think it would be great if you took a turn just to try it out.”    

Denise grabs the cane inspecting it. light, whippy. She swishes it once, then steps in. Swoosh. Thwick. The cane made a little contact.

“Sixteen!” The family cheers her exactly as Ruth promised they would. 

Buoyed by the support, Denise swings harder: Swoosh. Thwack. It doesn’t land on target, instead it deflects from the balls into the board holding them up, and rebounds into the still sensitive underside.  John spasms, a weak cry muffled by the ball gag.  

“Seventeen!” The family cheered her despite her hit not being perfect.

She lines up, determined to not miss again. Swoosh. Thwack, the cane connects solidly, it seems to penetrate a quarter inch into John’s nut meat, and then slowly re-emerge.

The group chants “Eighteen.”, but Denise is staring into the man’s testicles which she had just personally brutalized.  Ruth steps beside her and gently takes the cane from her hand and she steers her to the side, and safety from the next stroke.

With Denise taken care of, Ruth swings with a sharp twist—Swish, crack. Cane breaks.

“Eighteen,” Ruth smiles. “Close, Denise. But I win this round, don’t worry nobody wins their first time up to bat.”

Everyone celebrated except for John who was limp in his bonds, and Tyson who seemed concerned.

Ruth walks over, and starts unbinding her husband, as she works, she calls back “Alright Tyson, mommy gets to kick your balls 20 times. How do you want it? Like a man or like a boy?”

(To Be Continued)


**Author's Note:** This is a new concept for me. I had a magical journey of discovery into BDSM, and I wanted to tell a story about other people experiencing that journey in a slightly more interesting way. I workshopped many, many ideas, and then ended up on TV Tropes one day on the entry for "**But for Me, It Was Tuesday"** I hope you enjoy the story. If you do, leave me your thoughts.