Volunteering For Emily; Part 2

I arrived at the arts building of a college a few towns over from the one I attended, feeling my heart rattling in my chest with nerves. I was here to participate, again, in a rather odd exhibit being put on by a close friend of mine, Emily.

The show was a commentary on the objectification of the female body in popular culture via reversal; each piece was a blatant objectification of a male body, which patrons had the liberty to engage in whatever manner they saw fit. Most of the exhibits were paintings, sculptures, and other inanimate renderings, but I had the enigmatic distinction of being a live model for the viewer's pleasure, or at least part of me did; my role was to lie face down on a platform above a low ceiling, with only my testicles hanging down into the gallery via a small opening. From the viewer's perspective, it was a bare, clean white room with a ballsack hanging from the ceiling: the ultimate objectification of the essence of maleness.

We had already staged this show at the college Emily and I attended, and she was now touring it to other schools in the area. The idea of doing more of these was somewhat uncomfortable to me; Emily had warned me that any of the girls who came to the show would be free to touch my displayed balls if they wanted to-- that was a key premise of her artistic vision-- and I had come to terms with that. But what I hadn't been prepared for was that a lot of the girls would relish the opportunity to slap, punch, or otherwise injure my completely vulnerable jewels. It had been a night of nearly unrelenting agony, and at the time I swore to myself I wouldn't do it again; but I had a lot of trouble saying no to Emily, who I had always had a bit of a crush on, and, well-- here I was.

I had arrived early, and went for a walk around the campus, hoping to calm my nerves. I was leaning against a lamp-post, gazing out over a small lake, when I noticed two girls sitting together on a bench off to my right. I saw them notice me, and their talk grew more animated, their hushed voices interspersed with giggles. Suddenly they were walking towards me. I gulped as I got a clearer view of them; they were both super hot-- stunning, even. Their lithe bodies approached with preternatural grace. One of them looked serenely calm, the other had a slight wry smile on her face, and I could tell just by looking at her she was one of those extroverted, bubbly, confident girls that I had always found particularly attractive. They stood before me, almost painfully beautiful, their eager eyes glowing in the low evening light.

"Hi," said the wry smiler. "We saw you standing here all alone, and thought you might like some company." She looked at me coyly, clearly well aware of the effect she had on boys.

"Oh, um, hi," I stammered, hoping the blush spreading over my face wasn't too visible. "I, uh, I'm not too great at small talk."

"That's okay," said wry smiler. "We're visiting from another college. Maybe you could show us around campus? We'd love to get a tour from a cutie like you."

"Oh, um, thanks," I said sheepishly. "But I, uh, actually don't go here either. I go to a school about thirty minutes from here."

"Oh, cool," she said, affecting that sense of interest that's so devastating when it comes from a girl this pretty. "Which school?" she asked. I told her the name. "Oh my God, no way!" She said excitedly. "That's where we go too!"

"Oh, wow," I said, trying to figure out if I might somehow already know these girls; something about wry smiler's voice was very familiar. "What are the odds?"

"What brings you out here? Are you visiting your girlfriend?" she asked, vivacious mischief seeping out from behind her ironic smile.

"Oh, uh, no," I answered uncomfortably. "I'm not. I mean, uh, I don't have a girlfriend. I'm here with my friend Emily. She's just a friend though. She's an artist, and she's putting on a show here, and I'm, uh, helping her out with it."

Her eyes widened perceptibly. "Oh my God, no way. The 'Objectifying Masculinity' show? That's literally why we're here! What's your role in the exhibition?"

"Oh, I don't actually know yet," I lied, my mind racing. "This is the first time I've come to help out, and Emily hasn't told me what I'll be doing yet. Probably just moving set pieces around and stuff, I guess." I thought I saw wry smiler's eyes light up with a flash of impish recognition, but I could have imagined it in my nervousness. "Why, uh, why'd you guys come all the way out here to see it? You didn't catch it when it was at our college last month?'

"Oh, we sure did!" she said enthusiastically. "We loved it so much that we're planning to go whenever Emily stages it at a new college."

"Yeah," the other girl chimed in, her voice a bit lower, with a slightly sultry tone in it-- also strangely familiar. "Emily is such a visionary; her use of multimedia is so resonant."

"But the part we really like," said wry smiler, unabashedly grinning. "Is the live model exhibit."

"Oh..." I said, trailing off uncertainly.

"I guess if you haven't been involved with the show until now, maybe you don't know about it," she said. "But basically, there's this one room in the gallery where there's a guy lying on a platform on the other side of the ceiling, and only his balls are hanging down into the room. And the whole show is interactive, so you can, like, touch them and stuff."

"Oh, wow," I said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "That's, uh... that's cool, I guess."

"But what's really cool about it," she went on eagerly, "is that the guy has really strict instructions to not react to anything the patrons do. So that means-- this is the really crazy part-- you can hit his balls, even hit them, like, really hard, and he won't react at all. It's so cool!"

"Yeah, it's kind of fascinating," the other girl said. "I've definitely never had another experience before where I've hit someone's testicles and they didn't react at all."

"I hope it's the same guy doing it as last time," wry smiler said. "He had these really big balls, that were amazing to look at, but also so much fun to smack around."

I had no idea how to respond. "Oh, wow," I said meekly. "That's um... I guess that sounds like fun. Maybe though, you know, you'd want to take it easy. I mean, getting hit in the testicles really hurts."

They both laughed exuberantly. "Oh, I know that," wry smiler said. "I do have a brother, after all."

At a loss for how to continue the conversation, and feeling sick with dread, I told them I had to go start setting up for the show.

"That's cool. It was really nice to meet you," wry smiler said, smiling and batting her beautiful eyes at me. "Hey, what was your name?"

"Oh, I'm Colin," I told them, shifting nervously.

"Nice to meet you Colin," wry smiler said. "I'm Alex, and this is my best friend Sam."

"Nice to meet you two," I said with a shy wave as I walked off towards the arts building.

The whole conversation played menacingly in my head as I walked, and I couldn't shake the eery feeling that something about those girls was familiar. Then suddenly, I realized where I knew them from, and my heart leapt nearly out of my chest. I remembered them from the first show; two girls named Alex and Sam who spent longer than anyone else in my exhibit, standing underneath me and relentlessly battering my nads as they marveled at how much fun it was and traded tips on how to make their slaps and punches land with even more devastating effect. It was truly terrifying that they had traveled all the way here with the more or less express purpose of getting another chance to smash my displayed, vulnerable babymakers to their hearts' content. At the same time, I hadn't been able to see them when they were anonymous voices underneath me at the exhibit, and now that I knew they were both incredibly hot, it layered the whole ordeal with another set of complicated feelings that I didn't really understand, floating around in my bloodstream along with the nervousness and fear and anticipation. As if anything else could possibly have been the case, it was becoming clear that I was in for a long and difficult night.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

I entered the gallery and walked back to the room I'd be in. Emily was there with the cute tech assistant, dressed in all black, whose name I thought I remembered was Kayla. They were huddled over a clipboard discussing something. Emily looked up when I entered the room.

"Colin!" she cried, coming over to give me a hug. "The star of the show!"

"Hey Em," I said as she hugged me, feeling her breasts press into my chest through her thin dress.

"Okay, we're running a bit behind tonight, so let's get you set up quickly," she said, her tone business-like as she pulled away from me.

"Um, I actually was hoping to talk to you first," I said hesitantly.

"Okay, sure, what's up?" she asked, a bit distractedly, looking around at other things she still had to do before the show opened.

"Well, it's just, you know, I..." I decided to get right to the point. "When I agreed to do this, I didn't realize so many of the girls would, you know-- hit my balls."

"Yeah, isn't that fascinating? I wasn't really expecting that either," Emily replied, still giving me only part of her attention.

"Well, I mean, is there any way we could make it so that, like, wouldn't happen?"

She frowned at me dismissively. "Uh, no," she said. "Not without undermining the whole point. I mean, personally I don't really care if they do or not, I don't have a stake in it. But if they want to, they should be able to. That's central to the whole idea."

"Yeah, I get that," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "It's just that, you know-- it really, really hurts."

"I think you just shouldn't make too much of it," Emily said decisively, as if this cleared matters right up. "Honestly, getting your balls hit isn't that big a deal. I used to do it to boys all the time when I was in high school."

I felt a bit annoyed at this answer. "Well, yeah, it's not a big deal if you're the one doing the hitting-- but it's kind of a different story if you're the one getting hit."

"Colin, all I can tell you is, as the director of this show, I'm not too worried about it, so let's just try to not focus on it, okay?"

I swallowed with some difficulty; I wasn't sure what to say. "Okay," I murmured.

"Fantastic," Emily said brightly. "Now we are running a little late, so why don't you go ahead and get your clothes off-- I can bring them to the greenroom when I head over there."

"Oh, uh," I said, glancing between Emily and the tech assistant, who was still in the room. "Maybe I could have some privacy?"

Emily furrowed her eyebrows. "Let's not waste time on that. I mean, we've both already seen you naked; we'll know what you look like underneath your clothes whether we leave the room or not. And I don't think either of us mind-- do we Kayla?"

The tech assistant-- she was small, with a pretty face-- shrugged passively and blushed a bit. "I guess not," she said softly.

"Okay, chop chop," Emily said hurriedly. "We're on a schedule here."

I didn't see a point in arguing, and though it made me feel very self-concious, I stripped off my clothes until I was standing in front of these two very cute girls stark naked.

"Looks good," Emily said with a broad smile. "You can get into position in a minute-- I think you probably remember the drill-- but before you do, I just want to remind you of the guidelines." She had a bit of a stern tone in her voice.

"Okay," I said nervously.

"The main thing is, I really can't stress enough how important it is that you don't react in any way whatsoever to whatever is happening in the gallery room. This is so crucial for the piece. You did a really good job last time, but that one slip-up you had is really unacceptable. I can't be having that."

"Oh, um, I mean, yeah-- I'm sorry," I said meekly, "It's just that, it's really hard to not react to getting hit in the balls-- they're just so sensi--"

With no warning at all, Emily flung the back of her hand into my naked ballsack, connecting with a loud smacking sound that reverberated off the bare walls of the gallery.

"Ahhh!" I cried out, my knees buckling, sinking to the floor until I was doubled over. Kayla put her hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle.

"Ugh, Colin, come on," Emily said with frustration. "That is not a good start. I thought I would give you an easy test by hitting you softly, but you can't even manage that."

I was trying to get up, with difficulty. I slowly raised myself to all fours, hoping to regain my composure, and as I did, Emily, who was out of my peripheral vision, gave my exposed babymakers a solid kick from behind. Her foot landed with considerably more impact than her hand had.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned hoarsely, collapsing back to the floor. Since she had been standing behind me, I hadn't seen the kick coming at all.

"Colin, get it together," Emily said, with mild anger in her voice. "Be an adult about this-- you're acting like a little boy." I was lying face down on the floor and didn't answer. She knelt down next to me and firmly turned me over onto my back. With my front exposed, she reached down and took my balls her in left hand, and then slapped them hard with an open palm. The slap made a loud sound that bounced off the cold white walls, and it stung immensely. The impact hurt my balls so much, but I tried as hard as I could to not make a sound. I took a sharp intake of breath, but didn't cry out.

"All right, that's better," Emily said, still holding my balls in her hand. "I don't think that would have been audible." She got up and collected my clothes. "Kayla, can you stay here and make sure he gets into position? And give his balls another slap for me before he gets up there-- I have no idea if any of the girls who show up are going to think to hit them, but he's got to be warmed up in case they do."

Emily left, and I remained groaning on the floor, holding my aching balls. Kayla leaned down so that her face was close to mine.

"Um, do you need help getting up?"

"Ohhh," I moaned, "I think I can do it." I shakily rose to my feet, and looked at Kayla, who must have seen fear in my eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, laughing softly. "I'm not actually going to hit you again."

I breathed out in relief. "Thanks," I said. "That's really cool of you."

I hobbled around behind the wall and climbed up to the platform. It was much as I had remembered it; the same small opening surrounded by a rubber membrane that held my boys snuggly in place-- somewhat too snuggly, if you asked me. I eased my balls into the opening, which was enough of a task in the best of conditions, but was even more difficult and uncomfortable since they were already quite sore. I heard Kayla call up from the room below.

"They're not far enough through the hole. Emily gave me instructions on how to adjust them for display. Is that all right?"

"Oh. Okay; sure," I called down, feeling my penis stir at the thought of a new girl having her hands on my balls.

She reached up and took hold of me. Her fingers were small and hesitant, but nonetheless performed the task with uncomplicated competence. At first it seemed like she was just feeling around my balls with the tips of her slender fingers; then she gripped them firmly and pulled them down so that they hung fully on the other side of the ceiling. Even with some lingering soreness, it wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"Okay, I think that's good," she called up.

"Okay-- thanks," I said. I thought now I would only have to wait until the show started. It felt strangely peaceful up there, and my mind began to wander. But then, without any warning, I felt Kayla's fist slam into my nads on the other side of the ceiling.

"Ohhhh, fuck," I cried out loudly. She had hit me very hard with a closed fist, and the pain was enormous. "Ohhh, my God, oh fuck," I moaned miserably. The sensation of having had your balls struck but not being able to curl up or tend to them with your hands was extremely strange and unwelcome.

"Um, Colin," I heard Kayla call up to me gently. "You weren't supposed to make any sound; that was the point. Emily would want me to hit you again, considering."

"Ughhh," I groaned. "Do you have to?"

"How about, I'll tell you when this one is coming, so you can prepare yourself-- that way it will be easier to stay quiet. It's kind of cheating, but I won't tell Emily. Okay?"

I gulped. "Okay."

"Okay, get ready. I'm going to hit your balls now."

True to her word, Kayla smacked her fist into my completely vulnerable sack a second time, just as hard as the first. I was overwhelmed by how much it hurt; my eyes watered and the muscles in my throat tensed, but through enormous willpower I managed to remain silent. It was crazy to me how matter-of-factly a shy girl like Kayla absolutely wracked my balls; I would have thought she would be the type to bashfully give a soft little tap, if she could bring herself to do it at all; but apparently not.

"Great job!" she said earnestly. "You've got this!" She gave my balls a little squeeze, which was meant to be encouraging, I guess.

Kayla left the room, and I lay in silence, trying to remain calm and prepare myself for what lay ahead in the next few hours. As scared as I was that a long line of girls would enter the gallery and keep hitting my balls over and over again, I tried to calm myself by thinking that maybe the previous show had been something of a fluke; maybe most girls wouldn't really think to do that, and at worst I'd be subjected to some nice fondling throughout the night. A boy can dream. More than anything else, I really wanted to do everything in my power to make sure I didn't break Emily's rule by making any sound or reacting in any way. I wanted the show to go well for her, and I was also a bit afraid that there would be consequences if I messed up.

All too soon, I heard the sound of voices further off in the gallery, meaning the doors had opened. The first patrons made it back to my exhibit a lot faster than they had at the first show; there was a palpable excitement in the air.

I heard two girls enter the room, talking excitedly back and forth.

"Wow!" one of them exclaimed when she saw me-- or the part of me that was visible, that is. "Check it out!" I could sense both of them right underneath me, and one of them wasted no time reaching up and fondling my balls matter-of-factly, as if she were picking up an item while browsing in a store.

"God, these are big," the girl who hadn't spoken yet said-- I wasn't sure which one of them had my balls in her hand. "None of the boys I've been sleeping with have balls this big."

"Yeah, totally," said the first girl. "The artist did a great job in finding a guy with a really sizeable pair; the piece works so much better this way. Hey, don't hog, let me have a feel."

I felt a slightly smaller hand take possession of my balls, with something of a rougher grip, squeezing harder than the first girl had. I grimaced slightly, hidden from sight.

"My friend who went to this show at a different college said it's totally okay to hit them," one of the girls said.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

The second girl was laughing. "Oh my God, that's amazing! This artist is a genius."

I felt her hand fly up and smack my balls. She didn't hit them quite as hard as I had become used to; it was more akin to a medium-soft sacktap. It hurt-- I mean, testicles are sensitive; even having them hit lightly hurts; plus the way the rubber membrane held me firmly in place made sure that all the force behind every hit was concentrated directly into both my testicles, with nowhere else to dissipate-- but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I felt a bit relieved; maybe the girls that did hit me tonight wouldn't do it quite so hard.

"Laura, what was that? You barely tapped them!" the second girl said.

"Oh, um, I don't know," the first girl said sheepishly. "I've actually never hit a guy's balls before. I thought the whole point is they were really sensitive, so even a light hit is really effective?"

"Yeah, that's not untrue," the second girl said. "But that also means that if you hit them hard, it's *really* effective. Here, let me try."

I only had a moment to brace myself before I felt this other girl's fist come slamming into my balls. I gripped the platform in agony, my whole body tensed, intent on not making a sound.

"Hmm, I guess this is kind of an odd context to hit a guy where it counts for the first time," she said. "Because usually the main event is his reaction; that's how you know you got him good. But I guess part of the show is that he doesn't react. It's kind of impressive honestly; he must really be feeling it up there."

"Maybe we could get him to react, even though he's not supposed to, if we hit him harder?" the other girl suggested.

"I don't see the harm in trying," her friend said. "Here, you go first."

After a few beats of terrible suspense, I felt a closed fist slam into my unprotected balls with way more force than before. Then after a brief moment, her fist came again, just as hard. I was covering my mouth with both hands, which was the only way I managed to avoid squealing.

It was such an uncomfortable-- in many senses of the word-- position to be in. When you get hit in the testicles, there's such an incredibly strong impulse to curl up into a ball, using your entire body to protect that most vulnerable part of you that just got targeted, so that it can't be hit a second time. (There is a slight flaw in this instinctive response, which is that a girl who is determined to get you again can probably still access your balls from behind when you're in this position-- but even so, there is a lot of psychological comfort in feeling that you're doing what you can to protect yourself.) In the situation I was in now, there was the relatively familiar physical pain of having the most sensitive part of me hit by someone's hand; but there was also this added psychological distress of being aware that this my most vulnerable part had just been targeted, that it was still in danger, and that I wasn't doing anything (and couldn't do anything) to protect it. My balls remained as defenseless as possible, just as perfectly accessible for being struck as they had been before. I had this incredibly, enormously strong impulse to cover my balls with my hands-- not just because they hurt so badly, which they did, but even more so that if someone was going to keep punching them, their fist would hit my durable, strong hands, instead of my naked, delicate genitals-- but that was not possible.

Hard punches kept coming, one after the other, with no sign of letting up. It seemed like the two girls were going back and forth, trading jabs. It was absolutely miserable. I got the sense that they weren't going to stop until they got a reaction out of me; I started weighing the risk of Emily hearing me make a sound against the prospect of this onslaught continuing indefinitely. I decided it was worth the risk. After one particularly hard hit, I let out a quiet, tortured grunt.

As I had hoped, the blows stopped, and the two girls broke into boisterous laughter. "We did it!" the one whose name I thought was Laura said.

"Yeah, it makes sense," her friend replied; they seemed very pleased with their accomplishment. "No guy could keep getting hit in the balls like that and keep it together. These things are way too sensitive." She punctuated her point with a playful slap to my sack, which didn't come with as much force as the previous hits, but still hurt plenty badly.

To my great relief, they moved on from the exhibit, leaving me and my agonized nads alone, for the time being at least. It seemed like I had gotten away with that sound without Emily being around to notice, but I couldn't really be sure, and for the whole rest of the night I would be preoccupied with the thought that Emily may have heard me and was merely biding her time before demonstrating her displeasure.

A fair amount of time went by in which I was spared the worst from the all-female crowd. A lot of girls came and went in my exhibit, and they were distinctly more touchy-feely on the whole than the crowd at my own college had been. It seemed like more of them than not took up the opportunity to handle my balls; some of them bashfully, hesitantly, accompanied by delighted, blushing giggles; others with direct and audacious confidence, as if taking a firm grip on a random boy's ballsack was the most natural thing in the world. I received a fair share of slaps and smacks, but generally they were only medium-strength, akin to the playful sacktaps these girls would have given to their guy friends, fooling about in dorm rooms, or hanging around a parents' pool late at night back home with their high school friends-- a little harder than necessary, since no girl truly appreciates how easy it is to hurt someone's testicles, and certainly plenty painful, but not nearly as bad as the absolutely merciless hits I had become accustomed to receiving. I was beginning to feel grateful that I wasn't getting it worse tonight.

This illusive gratitude would soon be shattered, as I heard a familiar voice enter the room below me.

"Yaaaaay," she sang out excitedly. I knew immediately that it was Alex; the sound of her voice had become imprinted on the vanguard of my brain. I had no doubt that Sam was with her.

"This is so awesome," she said. "It looks great. Do you think this is the same guy as last time?"

"It's gotta be," Sam answered, that slightly low twinge in her voice giving it a permanently sexy quality. "There's no way she could find two different guys who both have balls this big." I could sense that they were standing directly beneath me.

"They are really beautiful," Alex said, taking my balls in her hand and gently fondling them. "As cool as it is to encounter them in this setting, I can't say I'd mind getting this guy into the bedroom. With balls like this, he must have a really nice cock too."

Hearing her talk about me like this, combined with the feeling of my balls in her hand, combined with the image I now had in my head of what she looked like-- her coy, shining eyes, her pretty mouth, her supple, taut body in the yoga pants and tight t-shirt I knew she was wearing from our earlier encounter-- was all more than a bit arousing, and I felt my penis stir and begin to harden, despite my extreme nervousness. I experienced a heightened awareness that I was completely naked, even if only my scrotum was visible to the girls.

"Yeah, but at least we get access to them here," Sam replied. With my balls still in Alex's hand, Sam reached up and quickly rapped her knuckles into the flat undersides of them, a soft but precise impact that caused me to quietly suck in my breath.

"Hey, wait your turn!" Alex said jokingly. "I want to go first!" She let go of me and in one swift motion slammed her fist into my balls, cutting across them sideways so that she got one and then the other in immediate succession. My testicles throbbed in pain; I wanted so badly to let out a long low groan, but of course I knew not to. Her fist struck again, and then again. It felt absolutely awful.

"It's pretty amazing that this guy manages to not react to all this," Alex said. "I don't know many guys who could do that. That's another thing that makes me think he would be a lot of fun in bed."

"Maybe he's one of those guys who doesn't feel it quite as much as other boys," Sam said. "I've heard of that being a thing, although I can't say I've ever actually encountered it."

*As if*, I thought to myself. If anything, I had always found that my testicles were somewhat more sensitive than other guys I knew.

"Gee, I hope not," Alex said. "That would make this way less fun!" She emphasized her point with another devastating smack to my balls.

"Okay, come on, my turn," Sam said. I heard them shifting underneath me, and then I felt Sam unleash a hard punch into the bottoms of my balls. Even though it was just one punch, it was a catastrophic hit. I felt my throat tense with the overwhelming pain-- I probably wouldn't have been able to stop myself from crying out, and avoided doing so only because she had caused me to lose my voice. I felt nearly dizzy with the pain, but my tender balls remained as vulnerable as ever, and another hit struck soon after, to similar effect. I couldn't believe how much it hurt. Sam seemed to be some kind of expert at this; it was like she somehow knew about all of these *particularly* sensitive places on my testicles, and each of her hits landed with inhuman precision in one of these previously unknown pressure points; it felt like my balls were getting hit in *their* balls. Each of her punches felt as acute and shattering as if it were the first time I had ever been hit in the testicles; each impact somehow contained the devastation of feeling like I was discovering this singular, essential vulnerability in real time, the hard way, even though in actuality I had been hit there countless times before.

Her punches kept coming, and none of them missed. The pain was accumulating rapidly, from a starting point that was itself essentially unbearable. I suddenly decided-- in a moment of pure physical need, with no room in my brain for any kind of reason or consideration of consequences-- that I had to make this stop, no matter what. I raised up from the platform and tried desperately to free my balls from the apparatus; but the rubber membrane holding them in place was too small for me, and accordingly the process of extracting them was immensely difficult, slow, and painful. All the while, Sam's fist kept coming. I had made a bit of progress extracting myself, and was beginning to feel the faintest pang of hope, when I heard Alex gasp below me.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed. "He's trying to pull out of it! I can't believe it!"

"Well shit," Sam said, sounding something between surprised and wryly amused. "We can't let him do that! Quick, grab him."

With much more speed than I ever could have hoped to slip out of the rubber, I felt Alex's hand reach up and grab by balls, firmly pulling them all the way back through the hole.

"Here, I'll hold him to make sure he doesn't get away, and you can keep going," she said to Sam.

With Alex's hand wrapped securely around my sack, pushing my testicles out to the very bottom of my scrotum, and trapping them there with no egress whatsoever, Sam kept hitting me with her same obliterating force, the only difference being that my nuts were even more vulnerable while held in Alex's grip. The red-hot pain of each impact was indescribable. Indifferent to any practical matter other than the desperate need to stop having my nads hit, I continued to try to writhe my way out, pulling up with my whole body while my balls remained doubly trapped by the platform's apparatus and by Alex's tight hold. It was obviously pointless, if anything only contributing to my extreme discomfort, but I was well beyond the point of reasoning. Eventually, however, after struggling for I can't say how long, I simply lost the will-power to keep resisting, and collapsed back onto the platform, my face pressed uncomfortably against the hard wood, and accepted the terrible fate of Sam's fist, feeling the fullness of each successive impact into both of my battered testicles.

"It's so eerie to be doing this and not observe any reaction," Sam said as she landed another punch. "It's so counterintuitive; every bit of experience I have has taught me that when you hit someone's testicles this hard, they become a whimpering mess. Even if you just hit them once-- and this is way more than once!" She hit me again, finding some particularly sensitive spot near the backs of my balls that made my eyes widen, the agonizing impact standing out even from all her other punches.

"I know, it's so weird!" Alex agreed, with obvious glee in her voice. "What an absolutely brilliant artwork. It really speaks to me." She had let go of my balls by now, satisified that I recognized the futility trying to escape.

"Well, I guess we can't stay here forever," Sam said, roughly kneading my balls with her fingers.

"Yeah, we shouldn't hog the best exhibit from the rest of the patrons. We can definitely come back the next time the show is at another college, though."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Until then." As a parting gift she reached up and gave my exposed balls a wicked hard slap. A preposterously loud 'thwack' echoed off the walls. It stung my balls like crazy; I almost felt like I was choking. Even though my nads had already been completely worked over by her fists, this slap was a new and different kind of pain, and I felt taken aback by it.

"Goodbye mystery boy with the very nice balls," Alex called up, addressing me directly, with mischief in her voice. "Let me know if you ever want a blowjob sometime-- if your cock is half as beautiful as your balls, it would be my pleasure." The two girls burst into laughter; even though I knew she was being facetious, I couldn't help but become incredibly aroused at the idea of Alex's soft lips wrapped around my cock, her bright impish eyes glancing up to see the effect she was having on me. Despite the fact that my balls ached worse than they ever had in my life, I quickly became rock hard up on the platform, much to my shame. There was a space hollowed out for my penis, so that it wouldn't be smushed the whole time, but it wasn't big enough for my erection, and my hard cock rubbed awkwardly and uncomfortably against the platform.

For the rest of the night, girls kept coming in, and a fair number of them would hit my balls, giggling about it with their friends and speculating about how much it must be hurting me-- but the truth was that compared to what I got from Alex and Sam, the rest of the night was extremely manageable. It would almost have been a bit funny, if it hadn't been so miserable-- these girls were clearly under the impression that their hits were absolutely devastating for me, and while they weren't wrong-- I mean, it's certainly true that they were causing my balls tremendous amounts of pain-- I was so grateful to be getting hit in a way that merely caused excruciating pain to my nuts, and didn't make my entire body feel like it was being stung in every nerve ending at the same time, that I hardly even minded all the fists in my sack.

Eventually the crowd started to thin, and then wind down to nothing, and soon I heard Emily call up to me that the last patron had left and I could come down now. I spent a long time trying to extract my balls from the rubber membrane; as I struggled to free myself, whimpering in pain as my ultra-tender jewels got squeezed and smooshed by the rubber, I heard Emily and another girl below me-- Kayla, I assumed-- laughing at my plight. I guess it must have made for a pretty funny image from their perspective.

Finally free, I climbed down to join them in the room, naked and nervous. They were both smiling and unapologetically eyeing my unclothed body up and down.

"Colin, that was great! Thank you so much!" Emily said, beaming. Even though she seemed happy with me, I knew that in actuality I had not really followed her instructions as closely as I needed to, and I had a bad feeling that she would find out about it sooner or later. But for now, I seemed to be off the hook.

"I know that when I asked you to do this, I said I would find a special way to show my gratitude," Emily said with a coy smile. "And at the last show, I was so busy with everything that I forgot about it. But tonight I didn't forget."

Emily knelt down in front of me, her face inches from my naked genitals. My heart thundered in my chest, overwhelmed by this very sudden development. But almost as quickly as I registered what was happening, I registered that I was mistaken; she was leaning down to get something out of her bag, which was on the floor next to me. She stood back up and handed me an envelope.

"Open it," she said with a big grin.

I did so. Inside was a $25 Starbucks gift card.

"Oh," I said uncertainly. "Oh, um. Thanks. Thank you."

Emily looked slightly puzzled. "You don't like it?" She asked. "I know you like coffee."

"No no, it's great, thank you," I tried to backtrack. "I just, um, you know, I wasn't sure... uh--"

"Oh my God!" Emily gasped, her face a mixture of shock and roguish pleasure. "You thought I meant you would get sexual favors? Colin! That is so naughty!"

With the same amused smile still plastered on her face, Emily quickly reared her foot back and slammed it into my balls. My knees buckled and I immediately collapsed onto the floor.

"Ohhhh, God," I moaned in agony. "Ohh, fuck. Ughhh." I had spent the whole night bracing myself against the prospect of having my most vulnerable part hit at any moment, and when it finally ended I had felt an enormous sense of release, letting my guard down in a big way. So when I came down to meet Emily, naked and trusting, I was not only totally unprepared to get hit again-- I had absolutely drained whatever resource I used for coping with it. This caused her kick to land in an incredibly deep way, psychologically as much as physically. I felt shattered.

Emily was laughing, and I could also hear Kayla trying unsuccessfully to stifle her own giggles. My head was swimming, their laughter mixing with the agony resonating from deep within my manhood. I rose to my knees, resting my head on my forearms, and raised my butt into the air, so that my balls would be off the floor, which was the position I had found helped me to best ride out the torment. But this proved ill advised, as Emily came over, leaned down, and gave me a firm little sack-tap from behind between my legs.

"Ahh!" I yelped, collapsing back to the floor. Emily's laughter renewed itself.

"I mean, don't get me wrong Colin," she cooed from behind me. "I'm more than happy to touch your genitals; but it's kind of a double edged sword." As she was saying this, she reached her hand underneath my trembling body and fished out my ballsack. Holding my testicles in her left hand, she punctuated her point with a hard slap to my nads. Her other hand holding my balls in place ensured that the full unmitigated force of her open palm was transferred directly into my tender jewels.

"Eeeeee!" I squealed, squirming in vain as Emily retained a tight grip on my sack. My reaction made her laugh even harder. Still holding me in her left hand, she slapped my nuts again, and again, three, four, five times.

"Ah! Ahh! Oh! AH! Eeee!" I called out on each impact. It hurt so much. My testicles had been made so tender and so vulnerable, and she was taking enormous advantage of that fact. She gave me one final slap, harder than the previous ones, that landed on the backs of my balls, which were more sensitive even to lighter hits.

"Ohhhhhhh," I groaned hoarsely, tears beginning to stream down my face, curling into a fetal position as she released me.

"Hahaha," Emily laughed as she got up. "I'm just teasing you Colin; I'm not really mad. Just having a little bit of fun." She gathered her stuff off the floor. "Anyway, I've got to get going, but I'll text you about when the next show is. Let me know if you want to get coffee sometime-- you can use your gift card to buy me something! See you soon!"

With Emily's footsteps receding out of the gallery, I lay on the floor in agony, and Kayla sat with me-- running her fingers through my hair, rubbing my chest, even occasionally reaching down to gently fondle my aching balls-- as I recovered. It didn't undo everything that came before it-- but it was a nicer end to the night than I could have hoped for. If nothing else, I was looking forward to seeing her again the next time I did this.