A Week in the life chapter 6 (Story)

**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.

Chapter 1 and 2 are here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cwek6v/a\_week\_in\_the\_life\_chapter\_1\_and\_2\_story/](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cwek6v/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_1_and_2_story/)

Chapter 3 is here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cxs5tc/a\_week\_in\_the\_life\_chapter\_3\_story/](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/cxs5tc/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_3_story/)

Chapter 4 and 5 are here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/czuziy/a\_week\_in\_the\_life\_chapter\_4\_and\_5\_story/](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/czuziy/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_4_and_5_story/)

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**Chapter 6: Saturday, No Expectations.**

Because of the extensive mashing my balls had received on Friday, I knew that our Saturday training was going to be difficult. I was both terrified and excited by the prospect. We slept in, and I woke up with sore balls and an erection. Neither of which fully faded that morning.

By mid afternoon, my wife was ready. She asked me to go out and trim the trees so she could get setup. I didn’t know what was coming which thrilled me. I rushed to the task. When I returned, she had a medium sized bottle filled with fabric softener tied to a strap. A 2nd strap beside it on the table, and what was sure to be the star of the afternoon’s entertainment, a series of impact toys ranging from a foam nerf hammer to a small wooden meat tenderizer to a decent sized rubber mallet. I removed my clothes, and then she instructed me to tie my penis out of the way with one strap, and then tie the other one which was already attached to the fabric softener around my nuts.

The fabric softener wasn’t more than 5-10 pounds so whatever happening wasn’t weight training. I tied it to my balls, and the length of the strap allowed it to sit on the ground with a bunch of extra slack.

She reached down, grabbed the fabric softener, and head for the table. But I anticipated her plans, and did my best to hold my position. When I didn’t follow politely, she gave the strap a jerk, causing my erection to pop out of it’s restraints. The pull was hard, and it hurt, but not enough to make me move. At least not yet.

“You know you are making it worse for yourself, don’t you?

“I’m counting on it,” I snarked back.

She looked at me, and then dropped the bottle, and headed aggressively to the table where she sweeps aside all of the toys except for the rubber mallet.

“Now are you ready?” My face had paled somewhat, the mallet was a tad too much even on nuts that didn’t have lingering soreness from the day before, but I had picked my position.

“Not without strong, forceful encouragement.”

She stared me down. Then with no more words exchanged, she picked the fabric softener back up, then grabbed ahold of the strap near the middle pulling slightly. Then she used her other hand to abruptly punch me in the tied and stretched balls.

Over the years I’ve learned how to take a punch to the balls, but the suddenness of this one caused me to bend at the middle, and almost collapse to the floor. She seized on my moment of weakness, to pull with all of her might on the strap which forced me to abruptly bend in the other direction or have my nuts ripped off, as I struggled to keep up as she drug me to the table. She went around to the other side but used her control to direct me to stay on the side across from her, the strap going over the table.

She dropped the bottle on her side of the table which caused my testicles to smack the table top, and then another jerk as the bottle reached the end of its tether. I was properly positioned now with my balls presented on the table being held in place by the strap and the weight of the bottle. I quickly tucked my penis back into the strap that was supposed to control it.

She approved of my position, and then explained what was going to happen: “Yesterday you had trouble keeping the testicles vulnerable to my love kicks. It’s important that you not try to protect them or keep them from me. So we are going to do a little exercise. You are going to count from 3 down to 1, and at 1 I might hit you with the mallet. I might not move at all, or I might try to fake you out. We are going to go until you can demonstrate the ability to keep the balls on the table for 10 blows of the mallet.”

I gasp. “There is no way. The mallet is too intense, I won’t be able to stay in position after a hit.”

She replies. “It’s ok if you move after I’ve hammered the balls. I just don’t want you moving in anticipation. I want the balls to remain nicely in position until the actual pain arrives. Also, since you didn’t trust me, we are now going to 11 blows. It was going to be 2 with each item, but since you’ve been talking back look how much worse it’s gotten.”

I look at her, and think about how much I love this woman. She sees my stare, reaches down and picks up the mallet, and raises it into position to pound my vulnerable testicles.

“I’m ready when you are. Start counting.”

I do. “3..2..1”, the mallet descends and my balls suffer. I reel back, dragging on the strap which pulls me up abruptly as the bottle catches the bottom of the table. My nuts hurt so bad I can’t breath for several seconds. When I catch my breath she is staring at me.

“Put the testicles back in their position.”

It’s even more terrifying now that I have the memory of the mallet fresh in my mind. But I comply.

“3..2..1” She doesn’t move an inch. I expected her to pull that. We both expected I’d be really jumpy after the 1st one made contact, but I’d overcome the fear, and made no effort at all to protect my balls from the threatening hammer.

“Keep counting.” She says. Probably because I was lost in thought celebrating my accomplishment.

“3..2..1” And the hammer descends again. With the position of my balls there is nowhere for them to escape to. All of the kinetic energy of the hammer is imparted to the sensitive ball meat crushing them between the hammer and the hard surface of the wooden table. I go woozy, and start to lose my feet, but grab the table and chairs for support. After a few seconds of recovery, back on to the table go my nuts.

“3..2..1” Another full swing, and another mind blowing contact. The 1st 2 blows have weakened my nuts causing them to become even more sensitive to future punishment. I feel woozy again, and again support myself on the furniture. One I’ve recovered slightly, I start to put my balls back in place, but as she reaches for the mallet again, I lose my nerve. What kind of person willing puts their sensitive testicles onto a table to be hit by a hammer? I take a few seconds to grapple with this, and then reassert that I am indeed that kind of person, and with renewed confidence let my balls settle back in place ready for the next assault.

“3..2..1” Again she does nothing. Again I stay steady thanks to the confidence boost that came as a result of the existential crisis.

“3..2..1” This time the mallet swings down, but pulls up short, never making contact with my balls. The fear is too much, and I try to pull back, then force myself back forward, but it is too late.

My wife shakes her head, and makes a clicking sound, and says, “I’m going to stick a needle in your cockhead for that later. Now get ready for the next one.

I take a deep breath and start counting. “3..2..1” The mallet swings, but again fails to make contact. I’ve centered myself, and have reached a state of mind where I no longer anticipate. “3..2..1” No movement this time. Another fakeout. “3..2..1”, and my counting is gifted with another collision between the mallet and the table with my testicles in between. The rubber on the mallet doesn’t diminish the power of the blows it just decreases surface damage. It’s usual target is wood, not squishy man orbs, and they provide almost no resistance against it, quickly being flattened against the table for a brief instant until I reel back and start wavering on my feet from the pain.

My wife darts around the table, and positions a chair behind me lest I faint. I gladly, and heavily sit down. The strap connecting my balls to the hanging bottle pulls a bit, but the distance I’ve pulled it back isn’t enough to make the bottle catch the edge of the table.

“Oh honey, are you alright?” My wife coos.

I respond, “Fine. Just give me a second.”

“Are you sure you can go on?”

“Yeah. Really, I’m fine. Just feeling a little hammered.”

She doesn’t laugh at the joke, it wasn’t worthy of a laugh. But she does return to her side of the table, and beckon me back into my place.

I stand feigning confidence I don’t actually possess, set my balls to their duty, and start counting. “3..2..1”. Down comes the hammer, and squish go the balls. I sit down with a more natural motion than you’d guess from someone that just had their nuts hit with a hammer. I can’t breath for a bit, then I think I’m going to be sick, then that passes, and I take my place one more time.

Before I can count, my wife asks, “How many has that been?”

Oh shit, I think. Oh crap. I hadn’t really been counting the blows. I can’t handle it if we have to start over.

She sees my unsurity, and offers a gift. “Is it 5 or 6?” It’s a gift and a trap. One of those numbers is probably right. After all, she hasn’t been getting hit in the balls with a hammer, so her head is clear. The blows are so hard, with each one more painful than the last as my nuts swell up. I want to make it through the whole exercise in one session, so I guess favorable.

“6”, I say.

“That is correct.” She lies, though I don’t suspect the lie, and it was a lie of love. “Are you ready?”

It’s a loaded question, but I love the fear it evokes. I nod, and start counting. “3..2..1” She swings down with the hammer, but pulls back leaving my nuts untouched. But my resolve wasn’t sufficient, and I pull back.

“Tisk, tisk, that is another needle in the cock.”

I nod, then count again. “3..2..1” Down comes the hammer landing another ruthless blow to my orbs. I collapse back onto the chair, and reach down to cradle my swollen nut meat. It takes me a bit to catch my breath, and return my balls to the punishment zone.

“3..2..1” She doesn’t move, and neither do I. “3..2..1” Another fakeout. The hammer never makes contact. “3..2..1” boom. Another nut crushing blow. This time I lean forward onto the table instead of falling back. Not sure why. But it takes me some time to collect myself.

She gets impatient. “Come on honey. I’m ready for the balls.”

Struggling through the pain, I set my balls back on the table.

“3..2.” and the hammer hits my nuts unexpectedly. I thrash forward, then fall back onto the chair.

My wife sheepishly says, “oops. Sorry I got impatient. Can you blame me, the testicles are so swollen right now that they make an irresistible target.”

I moan and thrash in unrelenting pain. “Too much” I stutter out.

She looks at me, and then says. “Fine to make it up to you, I’ll do the last 2 naked.” True to her word she removes her clothes.

I rush my recovery so I can take in the view. She catches my eye, then looks down at the spot on the table that is the punishment arena for my balls.

I stand up and take my spot. “3..2..1” A fakeout, but I’m so entranced by the movement of her breasts as the hammer comes down and withdraws that it barely even occurs to me that the hammer could flatten my nuts. “3..2..1” Another fakeout with boob jiggles. “3..2..1” No movement at all as my eyes stray to her pubic region and admire her labia. “3..2..1” The mallet impacts my testicles, and I briefly lose control. I fall back into the chair, then lean sideways trying to retch. Both balls are constant sources of pain, but that impact seems to have focused on the right one which is mimicking my pulse beat in waves of unbelievable pain.

I must have been lost in agony for some time, because she walks over and taps me on the shoulder to get my attention. “Hey you. We aren’t done with the balls yet. One more to go. Act like a man, and get back up”.

“I can’t. It hurts too much. They are too sore. I can’t do it.”

She cradles my head into her breast. “I believe in you.” She say. “You can handle just 1 more”.

“No I can’t. It’s too much pain.”

“What hurts?”

“My balls, they hurt so bad”.

“What do we say when the balls hurt?

She wants me to say, ‘feel proud’ or ‘nothing, because balls don’t deserve mercy’, but I can’t. It is too much, so I just shake my head.

“But I’m enjoying this so much. Here feel” she pulls my hand to her crotch, and I can feel her wetness. “Can you do the last one for me?”

I rotate my head to kiss her nipple, and then look up at her, and say, “1 more to make you happy”.

As I am standing up, she starts taunting me a bit. “What is about to happen?”

I reply, “You are about to hit my balls with the rubber mallet”.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Yes, it’s going to hurt so badly.”

“Why are you going to let me do it?”

“Because I love you, and balls don’t deserve mercy” I say with more surety in my voice.

My balls are in their place. Setting firmly on a hard table with a strap pulling them forward to present them to the heavy rubber mallet, and I have to do a countdown.

“3..2..1” The hammer falls, and my punished nuts flatten into the table. There is a second when I know it has happened, but the pain hasn’t yet arrived. Then it hits me and I collapse. I squirm in the chair. Oblivious to everything but the agony pulsating from my massively swollen nuts.

“Let me see them” my wife says after a time. I realize she has taken a seat naked on the table in front of me.

I stand up, and offer my nuts to her inspection. Apparently she has unhooked the other end of the band from the fabric softener, but my testicles are still tied. I hold them up to her. She measures the size of my right nut vs her pointer finger. Then she tests it’s consistency by supporting my balls with one hand, and using the thumb of her other hand to apply pressure to them. I cringe from the discomfort, but she uses her hold on the balls to prevent me from squirming away.

“If you can get hard right now, you can fuck me.” she says provocatively. I untie my penis, and try to think sexily about her naked body, but the pain is so great that I can’t quite get there.

But she always knows what to say. “If you can’t get hard, that’s ok, we’ll just do 2 more hits with the hammer, and then you can go down on me.”

Nothing turns me on more than a beautiful topless woman threatening with genital pain, so my member swing to life.

She leans back, and I step up to the table, and enter her, relying on her natural lubrication. Each of my thrusts features enormous pain as the ball meat swings to and fro, but she is quick to orgasm. As she does so, she yanks the cord tied to my nuts. Once satisfied. I pull out, and she spits in her hand, and finishes me off. I always expect that after the level of ball abuse I suffer, my semen is going to turn to blood, but not this time.

When I’m finished. She reaches down and grabs my nuts in both hands.

“Do you love me?” she says.

“Yes”

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

“I love you” I say, and she squeezes my balls tightly causing me to spasm.

“I love you too.”

That evening I ate dinner with 3 needles through my cockhead.

I love this woman.

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**Coda**: I enjoy stories of this nature including themes of ballbusting or other extreme S&M activities with consent, power exchange, games, exercises, training, and loving relationships. My all time favorite story is “Busting Bobby’s Balls” which can be found here: [https://www.bdsmlibrary.com/stories/story.php?storyid=9143](https://www.bdsmlibrary.com/stories/story.php?storyid=9143)

If anyone suggests a good idea for a future chapters that I think I can do justice to, I'll write it up.