A Week in the life chapter 9 (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.

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: Tuesday, Arrangements for Atonement (Kicking)**

When I arrive home, I remove my clothes, and take my spot kneeling, naked from the waist down with my sensitive testicles thrust forward awaiting their daily training session. My scrotum shows marks from last night’s caning, and my testicles hang a bit lower from the not fully recovered swelling. I consult the chart. 34 training kicks today.

My wife walks over, and hands me a hair tie. “Put this on” she says.

I dutifully comply, looping it twice at the base of my scrotum, forcing my testicles lower in their sac, and cutting off their means of escape from the training that awaits them. Usually, training doesn’t include bondage, but I fucked up royally last night, and attempted to defend my balls after a particularly vicious cane stroke.

As soon as I’ve prepared my balls, and returned to the training position, my wife unleashes a lightning fast kick into my man parts.

“One.” I count, before the pain takes root. This kick was not a warmup, but a full blown, testicle flattening punt. The air leaves my lungs as soon as the word is out of my mouth.

Another kick quickly follows, just as intense as the last, but with no breath. It takes me a second to get enough breath to croak out “Tw…”

The word isn’t all the way out of my mouth before another savage kick collides with my nuts. “Not fast enough, she says”. I arch forward, my animal instincts demanding that I attempt to defend my vulnerable reproductive organs. But I arrest the motion. I know the severity of this training session is because I was unable to restrain the urge to protect my nuts from punishment, and determined to do better.

“Penalty.” I say. Kick. This one traps my left nut against my body, and time slows down somewhat so that the moment of impact seems to linger.

“Three.” I say with a sickening feeling taking root in my stomach.

Kick. “You know I’m very disappointed in you.” My wife chides me as I reel from another solid hit.

“Four…. I know.” Kick. Pain attempts to disorient me, but I struggle against it. “Five… I’m sorry”.

The next kick is a dud. It discharges most of the energy into my leg instead of the targeted testicles.

“Si..” She cuts me off: “No we are repeating that one, because you made me miss.” She sizes up her target, and lands a forceful painful kick in my sensitive nuts.

“Six...uh.” I say, a quiver in my voice as my trapped balls try but fail to squirm away from the point of impact. I can see a grin take hold on her face, an acknowledgement of how successful the last kick was.

Kick. “Seven.”

I’m still processing as the next Kick arrives, but my inability to immediately count is unnoticed because says. “We’ve got to talk about how you can make it up to me.”

“Eight.” I grunt. Kick.

I feel a bit light headed as she continues. “You get as much out of this training as I do, and you let yourself down when you can’t be man enough to let me cane the balls without you getting your hands in the way.”

“Nine”. My head is foggy but I got the jist of what she was saying. “I…” Kick. This one catches my left nut again, and just like before it feels like the moment of impact drags out a bit. As it passes I see that she is looking at me expectantly.

“Ten” I rush out before she can grow impatient.

“I’ve got 3 ideas…” Kick. “for an exercise we can use to get you back on track.

“Eleven.” I say, and try to calm my unsteady gut. Despite the added pain from taking my training kicks banded, I’m fully warmed up now, and better able to process the pain.

“Idea One…” Kick. “You can wear a mill-stone for the rest of the week.”

“Twelve.” I say, struggling to pay attention.

“Idea Two…” Kick. “You can shock the balls 10 times with the cattle prod.”

“Thirteen.” The air is gone from my lungs, but I have enough time to start saying “I don’t think…”

Kick. I’m still up, but my mind briefly loses focus.

Kick. “Too slow, what were you saying”.

“Penalty.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I can manage to shock the balls on my own. It hurts too bad, and all my training is accepting pain, I haven’t been properly trained to punish the balls.”

Kick. She grins. “It’s OK.”

“Fourteen.” Kick. My head spins, but the conversation spares me.

She continues: “I’ll hold the prod, and depress the button you just have to push your balls into it, it’s really easy.”

“Fifteen” I grunt out. My balls don’t stop hurting between kicks at this point, it's more like the tide going in and out.

Kick. “Sixteen…” I breathe. “What is the 3rd idea?”

“Idea 3:” Kick. “You can do both.”

“Seventeen.” The flattening of my balls strays from my mind as I consider her proposal. She is looking at me expectantly with a huge grin on her face. I know what she wants. I love her so much, and they are only testicles, so I decide to give it to her. “I pick option 3.”

“Oh, Honey, I’m so proud of you. You took 17 kicks without falling, and earned a look at my boobs, and you picked the option I was most hoping for. Get ready for tits!”

I struggle to my feet. I’m not the most steady. All of the pain in my nuts is messing with my balance a bit. “Alexa, set timer for 1 minute”. I say.

My wife reaches forward and grasps my hurting gonads in one hand, and with her other hand raises up her shirt and bra to expose her breasts. Once her clothing is arranged, she reaches forward with the other hand, taking one ball in each. The move presses her breasts together in a jaw dropping display of female beauty, but then her hands clamp-down with an iron grip, and my soft testicles are compressed in a way that immediately brings tears to my eyes. Roughly, she searches around for particularly sensitive spots, to focus the pressure, and I do my best to enjoy my reward, doing my best to look through the tears, and bleariness of pain to see my wife’s best features.

“Oh honey, they are so cold.” she says as her left thumb presses into a spot on my right nut so sensitive that to avoid falling, I lean forward, and grip her torso for support. I’m silent, unable to breath, and having isolated a weak point that needs toughening up, she sets about maximizing the pressure for the duration of my reward. Fighting with the pain, I start shaking. “I just love when you start shaking with love for me like that.” She says right before the Alexa sounds, and I collapse to the ground in agony.

Curled into a fetal position, I resist cradling my hurting nuts, because I know we aren’t done with training yet.

After a bit, she says, “Spread ‘em”. I comply haltingly. My body doesn’t want to expose my balls to any more punishment, but I master my animal urges, and open my legs allowing my reddening bruised cluster of bound testicles to hang vulnerably.

My wife reaches down and removes the hair tie trapping my balls. I gasp as a different wave of pain hits me as my testicles try to find a more comfortable way to rest only to realize that comfort isn’t possible in their current state.

She says, “You’ve been really good so far today.” She coos with a satisfied grin. “Now get back into position. The balls have 17 more kicks coming.

I take my position on my knees with my legs spread. As my now free testicles sway into place, new agonies touch me. I feel so much more vulnerable than usual. Like we are starting training over on a more fragile set of nuts.

Kick. I didn’t see it coming. It’s well targeted, impacting both fleshy orbs. A more gentle warmup kick, but the motion it causes in my testicles makes me see stars.

“Eighteen.” Kick. I want so bad to cradle my balls to stop their painful swaying, but while my arms start to move, I pull them up short. “Nineteen.” Kick. My wifes foot flattens my balls against my pelvic bone. As the foot recedes, I grunt, and then uncontrollably do a couple pelvic thrusts. As if my body is trying to dodge the kick, but after impacts.

My wife says something, but I’m not able to make out the words as I focus on regaining control. “Twenty”, I say, and am immediately met with a savage kick that causes all of the air to leave my lungs.

“... interrupt me like that!” she is chiding me as I arch forward, putting a hand down for stability, but not quite falling over. “There is absolutely no reason to be rude.” And she punctuates the statement with another hard kick as I haven’t yet fully resumed my position. My stomach cramps, and I lean forward onto a hand again.

“I..i..i…’m ss..ss..sorry. Penalty” I say, struggling for air. When my vision clears, she is offering me the hair tie. I gasp in fear. “Oh, god.. Please n..” then realize what I’m doing in time to shut my mouth before additional transgressions. She considers me briefly, and then rears back to plant another savage kick into my sensitive balls. I couldn’t help it. I saw the kick coming, and anticipating the accompanying pain, my body tries to protect my vulnerable genitals by drawing back. The kick lands painfully, but not so painfully as intended. I struggle to rush an apology. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

But with two infractions in a row, she is having none of it. “Put this on” she pushes the hair tie at me aggressively. I take it, and attempt to comply quickly, but my balls are badly swollen, and every minor touch hurts them. Their diameter is such that I struggle to complete the 2nd loop causing myself significant pain in the effort.

Finally, I achieve the desired results. My ball-sac is a bloated, swollen mess lined unevenly with bruises from last night’s cane strokes. Having only just adapted to their freedom, my testicles are now sending out a series of cramps due to their latest constriction. I know the next kicks will be some of the most severe I’ve ever experienced. My balls are weakened and bruised. They are bound, unable to squirm away from the impact at all, and my wife is angry and disappointed with me for interrupting her, and not taking a kick with adequate poise.

I know so much fear of the impending pain, but the state of my mauled genitals gives me a certain amount of courage. Everything they’ve been subjected to, and I still haven’t gone down yet this evening. I’m proud of that, and draw courage from the pride as I thrust my punished package forward to accept the next agony.

I lock eyes with my wife and she says, “We are going to do 10 penalty kicks. 5 for interrupting me, and 5 more for pulling back. Does that seem fair?”

“Yes.” I say with conviction in my voice. “Thank you.” And then I allow my vision to become unfocused so that I don’t make the mistake I did before and anticipate the next Kick.

When it comes I barely feel it. But the aftermath as my testicles struggle to move about in their bondage, and now my left nut is sending pain pulses timed to the beating of my heart.

“Penalty” I say. Kick. I feel a thunk to the ball meat between my legs, but I control my reaction, and repeat. “Penalty”. Kick. There was no receding of pain between this kick and the last. I wonder if that is because of the bruising. “Penalty” Kick. A deep breath, and then “Penalty.” Kick. Deep breath. “Penalty” Kick. Slightly less on target a new zone of nut-meat explodes in pain, but I manage to hold position. “Penalty.” Kick. Breath. “Penalty”.

She mimes a kick to see if I’m anticipating, but I’m not, and I don’t move at all. Sensitive testicles made as vulnerable as I can to incoming attack. Kick. It hurts, but mostly I feel relief. “Penalty.” Kick. “Penalty.” Kick. Yet again finding a new spot to hurt, but I take the pain, and dutifly reply, “Penalty.” Kick. Deep breath in, then “Penalty”.

When the next kick doesn’t come as expected, I look up to see her staring back at me with a faux outrage hiding a grin. “That was 11 penalty kicks, and we only agreed to 10. Do we need to start over because you can’t count?”

Oh shit. I was able to fortify my composure by making myself less mentally present, but by doing that I lost count. With the state my balls are in? 10 more punishing kicks plus the 14 that still remain in my ordinary training routine….

“It’s OK, lets just complete training.” She says, and then powerfully kicks my bundled man-orbs.

My composure broken by the conversation, I almost lose control and fall over, but I right myself, and say “Twenty-one”. Kick. A hard one that hits the right nut hardest. I struggle for breath, and say “Twenty-two”. Kick. Somehow the exploding pain catches me off guard, and I bite my tongue, and start to reach down to cradle my abused organs, but catch myself and return to position. “Twenty-three”. Kick. I start collapsing forward, but catch myself before I fall. As I’m getting back to my spot, I see a glistening of sweat on my wife’s legs. I’m really making her work tonight.

“Twenty-Four” I count. Kick. Air is driven from my lungs. I’m unable to speak.

My wife says, “You know if you hadn’t screwed up, you’d be caressing my breasts right now. You’d be lavishing kisse on my pretty nipples. But instead, here I am, 10 more training kicks for the balls, just because you couldn’t follow the rules. Think of how unfair that is for both of us!”. She looks at me in grinning indignity, and then unleashes a powerful kick in my trapped balls. “Too Slow!”

I’m kneeling and retching, but still haven’t fallen to the floor. I forgot to count, mesmerized by her descriptive language. Unsteadily, I return to my position. “Penalty”. Kick. More retching, I’m drenched in sweat, and feeling light headed, but struggle into position, and say “Twenty-Five.”

Kick. I feel the impact on both of my nuts of her foot connecting, but I don’t feel the pain. In fact…. I don’t feel anything….

I look up from the floor, there is a cool rag on my forehead, and my wife is looking down at me concerned. “Oh, honey, you passed out, are you OK?” I take an assessment. My nuts hurt badly, with each beat of the heart sending pain from my left testicle, but I try to consider the rest of me. I’m still a little light headed, and I feel hot.

“Just give me a little bit, and we can continue.” I say, searching my memory for what the count was.

“No, it’s OK. We’ll do the last 9 with tomorrow's training. For now, why don’t you take a sip of water, and let’s get that hair tie off.” It's a good compromise. Balls don’t deserve mercy, but I do. She hands me a cup of cold water, and I take a sip as she cautiously inspects my bound nuts.

“I think we are going to have to cut it off” she says completing her inspection with only the most gentle touch to my ball sack which is abnormal for her. “I’ll get the scissors”.

I lever myself to a kneeling position, and try to evaluate the situation. My testicles are swollen grotesquely. A solid mass of nut meat stretching out my scrotum. The left testicle is notably larger than the right which might explain the pings of pain I’m still getting every time my heart beats. My flacid penis sits across the top of the balls, but doesn’t protrude nearly so far as my distended ball bag. The head of my penis only reaches the middle of my swollen nut bundle.

I try to move my nuts to the side to expose the hair tie, but the pain of touching them is too much, and I wait for my wife’s return.

“OK, honey, why don’t you put the balls on the table, so that I can get to the hair tie.”

I nod, and with her guiding me I climb to my feet. Every movement causes little tremors of pain, but I make it to the table, where I set out my balls. When I see her coming towards them with scissors, I feel a moment of unfounded fear.

With the moment passed, I think I don’t need to be afraid, she cares about the balls as much as I do.

Gingerly, she presses down on the ballbag to get the tip of the scissors under the hair tie. After a brief, and painful struggle, she gets the scissors in place and cuts the tie. Despite the elastic, it doesn’t immediately unravel, held in place by the tight skin. She has to reach down, and pull lightly on the end to get it to let go.

The pain that hits me when the tie is released briefly sends my mind away. But I regain my senses quickly, and don’t pass out again.

“OK, honey, you’re all set, why don’t you have a seat, and drink a little more water while I make dinner.”

I comply with her, plopping down onto one of the wooden dining chairs. My descent is too quick, and as my balls contact the hard surface I experience a little more nausea.

I wasn’t able to eat much for dinner, but with desert came the millstone. It was a large round weight. About the size of a bowling ball, and probably around 25 lbs. On the top is a loop, and tied to that is about 4 feet of rope. Enough rope so that the weight isn’t suspended by my testicles, but instead dragged behind me as I move about the house. I towed the stone behind me the rest of the evening until bd.

My wife looked after me all evening, making sure I kept drinking to rehydrate myself. I’m so lucky to have someone who cares about me like that.

**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](https://www.bdsmlibrary.com/stories/story.php?storyid=9143)”

If anyone can recommend to me a good story, or suggest an idea for a future chapter, I'd appreciate it.