My Poor Ball Chapter 14: Training Resumes (Kicking)
**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](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallBusting/comments/q3r6cp/a_week_in_the_life_chapter_13_story/) (Cattle Prod)
**Chapter 14: Friday: Training Resumes (Kicking)**
I arrive home from work and remove my pants and underwear to expose my sensitive testicles for their evening training. Small burn marks decorate my ball sack from last night’s cattle prod experience, and while my testicles show bruising from their regular training, they are especially pronounced today because of the challenging training from the day before.
I take my usual place: kneeling with my hands behind my head, and my testicles thrust forward in the way my wife prefers. Then I wait for my training to begin.
My wife walks over with a grin on her face. “Hi honey!” she says cheerfully. “How many kicks today?”
I consulted the chart. “36”
She nods and moves into position. “Alright, that means you can see my boobs if you take 18 without breaking position, and you get to kiss and fondle my tits if you can take all 36. Are you ready?”
“Ye…..” she doesn’t wait for my response, but instantly launches the first kick into my sensitive orbs.
“Argh….” I let out a sigh as I struggled to hold my position. “One.” I offer the count, which is immediately followed by a second painful kick.
“Two, how…” Kick. “Three, was….” Kick “\*ugh\*, four, your....” Kick. “Five, day?”
Kick number 6 lands agonizingly brutal on my left testicle, making me see stars, and forcing me to lean back a bit on my heels. Thankfully, having gotten out my question, I now had a brief break as she responded.
“Good.”, she says. “It was busy, but good.” Then she gestures with a nod of her head that she is ready for the next kick.
I pull myself back into position and say. “Six.” Which is immediately followed by another punishing kick connecting with my sensitive orbs.
“Seven, is your computer…” The kick comes mid sentence, but I manage to finish before the strike pulled the wind from my lungs. “\*Wheeze\*.... Still giving you problems?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Eight.” I count.
“It’s a total piece of crap!” she exclaims, using an extra hard kick to emphasize her point.
“Nine,” I grunt, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“I don’t know why they won’t get me a new one!” she says with another kick, just as hard as the last one.
I see stars. I’m struggling with the pain, and do a weird hip thrust before gathering enough breath to say “Ten”.
Kick. “Eleven”. Kick. “Twelve.” Kick. “Thirteen”. Kick and I’m reeling back a bit, unable to count due to lack of air.
She covers for me by asking a question. “How was your day, honey?”.
I push out “Fourteen!... It was fine.” Before the next painful kick catches me squarely in both balls.
“Just fine?” she asks.
“Fifteen, yes…” Kick “... I spent all day sending emails.”
“Sixteen.” Kick. “Seventeen.” The next kick lands painfully on my right ball.
Then after collecting myself, I count triumphantly “Eighteen”.
“Good job sweetie, you earned yourself a look at my pretty boobies. Go ahead, stand up.”
I take my position and say, “Alexa, set the timer for one minute.”
My wife grips and squeezes my punished testicles with one hand, and uses the other to pull up her shirt and bra, exposing her breasts. For a moment I’m fully able to enjoy my reward as with only one hand, she doesn’t yet have quite enough leverage to use her squeezing to overcome my lust for her breasts. But she quickly remedies this by tucking her shirt under her chin to free up her other hand. Now with one vulnerable ball in each hand, she clamps down \*hard\*, sending me into unthinking pain.
\*I only have to take it for one minute. I can make it through this ‘reward!’\*, The pain forces the thoughts of boobies from my mind as I try to endure.
The pain washes over for me. Maybe for a few seconds, maybe an eternity. However, it must have been a minute, because suddenly Alexa is sounding, ripping me from my trance. I’ve fallen into a position trying to keep myself upright by holding onto my wife’s shoulders. She mercifully releases her grip, and I sink to my knees.
“A... A... Alexa off!” I say, concluding my reward. The reward serves several purposes. It gives me goals, and something to look forward to, but it also breaks up the kicking, preventing me from entering a head space, where I don’t feel it in its entirety. And finally, the crushing of my testicles makes them so much more sensitive and vulnerable to the 2nd half of our training session.
I resume my position, and my wife looms over me.
“Ready to Continue?” she asks cheerily.
I nod, and as before, the Kick arrives before I’ve finished responding or preparing.
My sensitive balls send countless signals to my brain, and I lean forward, supported by my hands. I haven’t fallen all the way over! To steady myself, I think of how much I want to kiss and fondle my wife’s boobs. All it will take are 17 more kicks to the testicles, and I will have earned it.
I thrust myself upright once more, and said: “Nineteen!”. Kick.
“Eheheheh,” I let out some animalistic noises, then mustered enough strength to say: “Twenty.”
I’m a little distracted, but my wife wipes her brow and says, “Whew, it’s hot in here.” She removes her jeans, and is now wearing panties and a t-shirt. I take in the view briefly before she rears back for an especially hard kick.
I flinch and try to close my legs, but am unsuccessful, and my testicles once again explode in pain. I struggle out. “Twenty-o…”
“Un-na-uh.” My wife chides me. “Do not protect those balls from training. Now get ready for a penalty kick.”
It doesn’t matter that my testicles felt it fully. I broke the rules, and they have to pay, so I lean back a bit more to stress their vulnerability even farther. When the kick comes, it is more than I was ready for. I want to fall over, curl into a fetal position. Every instinct I have is urging me to protect my genitals from any more pain and damage. But I’ve been in training for months now, and it is showing. That kick would have broken me before. In fact, nearly any of these kicks would have sent me into a fetal position, but I’ve been working hard, and have just enough gumption to prevent a collapse.
“Penalty,” I say as a count.
“Alright then, how many do we have left?” my wife asks. This is a test for my training. I need to be present and aware, because if I don’t have a good count, we start over. She saw my reaction to the last devastating kick and decided now was a good time for a pop quiz.
Thankfully, I’ve been practicing, so I know the answer. “We’ve done 21 kicks, and have 15 left for today’s training.”
My wife grins down at me. “Good job, have a gentle one”. But the kick that follows isn’t gentle. It hits both balls soundly, and again I see stars.
“Twenty-Two” I say as I thrust back into position.
My wife wipes sweat from her forehead. Then lands another painful kick to my baby makers.
“I enjoy that I’m making you work. Twenty-three.” I say.
“Ha.” she giggles before kicking me again. “We will see who can keep up”.
Kick, the next one coming immediately “Twen... Twenty-Four”. Kick. “Twen… Twenty-five”. Kick. After that one, I lean back onto my heels.
“Unuh,” she says disapprovingly. “You are supposed to be giving me a workout. No breaks until thirty.”
I force my sensitive, punished organs back into position to be met by another kick, which hits right as I reach my designated spot.
“Ug…. Twenty-Six,” Kick. “eee… Twenty-Seven,”. Kick. “ugh.. Twenty-eight,”. Kick. “Twenwnenenty-nine,” Kick. “Thith-thirty,” I say and then look up triumphantly.
“Good Job,” my wife praises. “You are making me work, but now it is time to prove that you deserve to kiss my tits. The last few are going to be extra hard. Are you ready?” she asks.
I start to nod, and the kick arrives. It is a powerful kick, but both testicles deflected a bit to the left and escape some of the force.
“Thirty-one,” I say with more confidence than warranted. Kick. I bit my tongue a bit. “Thir-thirty-two” I stammer out. Kick. “Thirty-Three”.
“You are almost there.” My wife says encouragingly before taking a step back to lead into her next pulverizing kick.
It hurts. It hurts so bad. My world is pain. I can’t think clearly enough to remember my motivation, but trained muscle control is enough. “Thirty-Four”.
Another powerful kick. I’m light headed. In fact, my head is empty. Barely able to hold on to the one thing that matters…. “Thirty-Five”.
The last kick doesn’t come at first. Long enough for me to regain enough of myself to wonder why. I look up and lock eyes with my wife, who has taken a step back to add extra power to her final kick.
“Is this going to be the one? Are you finally going to make it through an entire training session and earn kisses on my nipples?” She asks.
I know her game. She is trying to disrupt my poise. It’s another test. A test I’m ready to… and she dramatically steps forward, and I cringe away. The animal instinct to protect my reproductive organs briefly overcomes my deep desire for and love of my wife. The kick doesn’t really land.
“Oh, I’m SOO disappointed,” she says. “I thought you were going to do it. We obviously still have some training to do. But, don’t worry. You still have a chance to kiss my breasts if you can just take 3 penalty kicks.”
“OK,” I say with shame, and then I form some anger. Angry at my weak testicles, unable to take their training. Why do I allow them to rule me? I will not let it happen again, and I try with everything I have to lock in my position just in time for the next kick to land painfully.
It hurt, but my testicles deserve the hurt. “Penalty” I say definitively. Kick “Penalty”. One last kick. I see darkness briefly, but recover, and gasp a final “Penalty”.
Then, realizing what I’ve done, I start glowing. I’ve completed an entire training session, and get access to my wife’s boobs. I stand up on unsteady legs.
“What are you doing?” she asks me. “We aren’t done yet. We still have to repeat the last kick. Number 36.” She reminds me. “Have you lost count? Are we going to start over?”
Cowed, all determination gone, I sink back to my knees. “N..n..no.” I stammer. “I haven’t lost count. I’m ready for the last kick,” I say.
When the kick arrives, it proves I was a liar. I was not ready. The blow overloads my pain receptacles, and I fall forward onto my stomach. I feel a bit of retching, but don’t actually do so, but I close my legs, curling into the fetal position and roll around in pure agony.
My wife leans down to pet my side. “Oh, honey, what a disappointment. You were so very, very close.” She kisses my forehead and then gets up to make dinner.
After several minutes, I finally rose. She notices, and comes back theatrically pulling the 25 pound weight tied to a rope that has been my companion for the last week. “Don’t forget the millstone.” She says and drops the rope at my feet.
I sigh, and then lean down to tie the weight to my punished and sore balls. Then dejectedly head for the bathroom to wash up.
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Kudos to r/smasher6446 who helped me edit this story. I've got 1 more edited story, and about 15 that are waiting for edit. I'll try to post about once a week.