A Week in the life chapter 13 (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](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/fevozj/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_9_story/) (Kicking)
* [Chapter 10](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/gj9e9a/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_10_story/) (Crushing)
* [Chapter 11](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/gl3r25/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_11_story/) (Kicking)
* [Chapter 12](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/pdaix2/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_12_story/) (Hammering)
**Chapter 13: Thursday: Main Event (Cattle Prod)**
I’m on my hands and knees, unable to stand yet after the extensive recent abuse of my testicles. My wife has said, that there is still more in store for them tonight, and I don’t know how they could possibly take more, but she also said she would be waiting naked in the other room, and so I pitifully struggle to crawl towards even more testicle torture.
As I reach the threshold, I lever myself up via the door frame, and struggle to stand. As they move about, my nut-meat returns a bit of nasua, but I make it into standing position, and take 2 unsteady steps into the living room.
My wife waits, naked as promised on the couch. I study her breasts, looking closely at the bumps that surround her nipple. My penis makes an effort to rise which causes more dull pain in my punished ball sac.
“Bring the Balls over here!” She motions with her index finger curling.
I move towards her, hypnotized by her pretty body. As I get close, she moves her arm into my line of sight, obscuring her breast, and as my focus is disrupted, I see the cattle prod in her hand, and involuntarily recoil, and take a sudden step back, causing my heavily swollen balls to sway painfully.
“Oh come on, don’t be a baby.”, she says. “You know you earned this. Time for the balls to pay up.”
Earned it? My mind, not fully sharp after tonight's ordeals, couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t really matter. If she wanted to shock my balls with a cattle prod, she was going to do it, whether I had earned it or not, but still…
“Hurry up, you were the one who asked for this. Don’t drag it out.”
Asked for it? Then I remembered! On monday, after a particularly painful cane stroke I had tried to protect my genitals from her. To make amends, I had agreed, at her urging, to wear a mill stone for a week, and to shock the balls 10 times with the cattle prod. I’ve never done that before! I’ve had my balls shocked many times, but I’ve never been the one to initiate the experience. But now, she is waiting for me, and so I struggle forward.
As I get close she holds out the prod with the prongs at crotch level, and presses and holds the button. “What do you have to say?” She taunts me.
“I’m sorry for defending the balls” I say, and try to overcome my fear, and every animal instinct in my body. It’s a mixed success, I jerk forward awkwardly, and instead of the cattle prod connecting with my balls, it tags my leg. The pain is so much that I flail back and collapse to the floor. As I fall, my punished testicles shift awkwardly, and briefly overtake the shock as the most painful experience.
“.... I’m almost ashamed to be your wife.” I missed the first part of that because of my reaction. “If you miss the balls again, we are going to have to go get the mallet again, aren’t we?”
I force myself to my knees. “I’m ssss..Sorry. It won’t happen again.” I was going to have to make sure of it. In the state my balls were in, another hit from the mallet might be too much.
“Ok then, give the balls a shock.” She presents the prod to me, prongs again at testicle level.
I take 2 deep breaths, and then repeat. “I’m sorry for defending the balls”, as I step forward in a more controlled fashion. I have a moment of crisis as my sensitive man orbs near the terrible prongs, but master it just long enough to make contact.
As soon as the crack hits them, I reel back until I collide with the wall, and then slump to the ground. The cattle prod feels like a stab to the balls mixed with the worst rubber band snap you’ve ever felt. It is so painful. Painful and scary.
My wife is enjoying herself again, tugging playfully on one of her nipples. “Alright, time for number two” she says, and holds up the prod again.
I struggle to my feet. And take 2 steps, and then freeze. I can’t do it. It’s too scary. “Ple.. Please.”
“Come on,” she says. “Are you a man or a little boy? Don’t make me wait all night, give the balls what is coming to them.”
Stung by the playful insult, but frozen in terror, I’m not able to comply. I start babbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, then collapse to my knees. The air whooses out of my lungs as throbbing balls flop about painfully. Then I start to sob, and keep mumbling apologies.
My wife sets down the cattle prod, and gets to her feet. She closes the distance, and her gleaming naked form towers over me. She puts a hand on my head, and stands above me silently for a few minutes. Then she leans forward, hands on my shoulder.
She leans in, and says in a whisper. “It’s OK honey. It’s OK, I’ll give you mercy if you ask. Just ask me for mercy.”
I look up in time to see her dangling boobs hanging downward, and am mesmerized as she straightens up, with her boobs now proudly displayed on her chest, nipples pointing upward away from me.
“Just ask.” She repeats from far above me.
I lean in to plant a kiss on her sexy labia, then say “Mercy, please give me mercy.”
“Mercy granted!” she says.
I keep kissing her vagina with love, and thankfulness. She pets my head lovinging.
After a few seconds, she adds. “But we can’t forget about the rules. What are the rules about mercy?”
“Ba….balls don’t deserve mercy.”
“Balls don’t deserve mercy! That’s right!” she praises, as if I’m a star pupil that has finally grasped something for the first time.
My balls are in so much agony. They’ve been hammered, and kicked, and hammered again, then a shock from a cattle prod left a little burn mark that blends in with the bruising. They hurt. More than hurt. They were no longer human gonads, but swollen bags of pain. And now my loving wife wanted to hurt them more.
Finished with my assessment, I again gaze up at my beautiful spouse. Her naked body looming above me, and an eager smile plastered across her face.
Finally, I break my silence. “Rules are Rules”
“Yes!” she exclaims, “Rules are rules! Let’s see; what can we do to finish the exercise for the balls?” She looks upward contemplatively as I oogle her breasts.
“I know!” she says excitedly. “How about you go sit backwards in one of the dining chairs, and dangle the balls out between the slats. I’ll go get some rope!”
She zooms off with a joyful bounce in her step. I gingerly rise off the ground. I start to reach down to cradle my balls as I walk and then think better of it. ‘Balls don’t deserve mercy’ is one of the key tenets of our household, and it feels disrespectful to reduce the pain of walking.
Still, my walk is slow and awkward. As much a stumble as a walk. I move a chair away from the table, and straddle it gingerly. The straight backed chairs are uncomfortable to sit in, at the best of times, but one advantage of the design is that once I’m seated backwards I can pass my balls between two upright slats. I do so, having to move the balls one at a time through the gap because of the significant swelling.
My wife reappears, still naked, holding several lengths of rope. I enjoy the bounce of her breasts as she moves, practically skipping with excitement. First she ties up one end of a rope to the chair, then loops it several times around my balls. Once looped, she shakes the loop violently.
“How are they feeling, honey?” She asks.
My head is thrown back in agony, and it takes me several beats to get breath back into my lungs to respond. “Th-..they hurt.”
“I’m sure they do!” she says, “Just look at them!”
I do, and the bloated ball-sac is now tightly tied. The skin taut from tension, it shows clearly all of the bruises, and discolorations not just from tonight, but likely for several weeks back. My balls aren’t usually allowed to recover, but right now they are a truly miserable sight.
“Looking good, don’t they?” My wife asks as she loops the rope several times around the other side of the chair, then up to a spot at chest level where she loops around again, this time pulling tight to pull up all the slack. Then she motions for me to raise my arms, and I do so as she loops the rope twice around my torso, and the chair, before finally knotting it off.
She then takes a 2nd rope, and builds a quick noose which goes around my balls, then up along the inside of the chair before going out through a decorative hole.
“Hands!” she says, and I offer up my wrists, which she loops around several times, then cinches in the middle with a knot.
Sizing it up, she tries to lift my hands which causes my balls to rise painfully, and I squeak.
Proud of her effort she says, “Excellent. Oh, and feel free to struggle as much as you want!”.
Then she heads off back to the living room, and I watch her attractive hips sway as she moves. When she returns, I start to look at her boobs, and instead my eyes are drawn to the cattle prod held proudly in her hands.
Once back, she pulls a 2nd chair away from the table, and takes a spot on the edge, with her legs spread. Her naked pussy is splayed out, but I can’t pull my eyes away from the cattle prod.
“OK, here is what is going to happen.” she dutifully explains. “I’m going to give those balls the other 9 shocks they earned, and then I’m going to let you watch me masturbate. Sounds good?”
I stare silently at the cattle prod.
“Sounds good to me.” she says when I don’t respond. “Ready for number 2?” Pause “Here it comes!”, and she slowly moves the cattle prod towards my trapped testicles.
I struggle to no avail, just jostling my bound balls which widens her grin even more. Finally the prods come to touch my balls, and I lose all sense of composure.
“What’cha doing?” she asks. “I haven’t even pushed the button yet. Sit still”
I calm my struggles, and wait. And Wait. And wait. Then lightning courses through my testies.
“There you are.” she says, as if she had presented me with a gift. Through my thrashing, I saw her fondling her pussy.
Then she reaches in, and shocks my balls again. The sound of the zap arrives before the pain of it, and I’m lost from reality struggling unsuccessfully to protect my genitals.
“Zap” another shock, and I squirm away a fraction of an inch before the prod finds them again, and again my balls electrocute. She is holding the button down now, trying to keep the prongs against me as she rapidly strokes her clit.
Zap, zap, zap, I’m lost to the world. More animal than man. Shock after shock, uncountable, and unendurable.
Then a scream that isn’t mine, and the cattle prod finally falls away. My wife is arched back in orgasmic bliss, quivering, while I’m still uncontrollably struggling with my bonds reeling from the abuse to my manhood.
After a few seconds we both slouch exhausted. I recover in time to bask in the glow of my wife’s sweaty naked flesh, still quivering from ecstatic aftershocks.
“My god you are sexy tonight.” She says, as she stands up, and then leans in to rub her breasts across my hands, and then my face.
Finally, words return to me. “I love you” I say weakly.
She steps back one step smiling. Then brings the cattle prod one final time against my nuts, as she says. “I love you too.”
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Kudos to my new editor who helped me recognize the flaw in an earlier draft of this story. Look for more stories soon.