My Favorite Slave

Jim walked through the door promptly at 3 pm and dutifully began removing his clothes. He really was a tall glass of water. I admired his broad shoulders as his trembling fingers undid the buttons on his shirt one by one. I had to stop myself from drooling when he removed his undershirt, revealing the ripped, muscly abs underneath. And I could hardly contain an audible gasp when he took off his underwear, unveiling his 7.5-inch erection.

After arranging his clothes in a neat pile by the door, he walked over to where I was sitting. Ever the obedient little boy, he knelt and kissed the bare tops of my feet. He looked up at me expectantly. I was wearing a bright blue microskirt and a similarly skimpy blue bikini top that was struggling to contain my 36Ds.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Of course, Goddess Ava. I would do anything to make you happy.”

I smiled. As much as I loved Jim’s gorgeous frame and impressive sexual organs, the thing I loved most about him was his attitude.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that. Would you bring over the things I requested?”

“One moment, Goddess Ava.”

Jim got up from his knees and walked back to the entryway, retrieving a shopping bag. He sat it beside me and showed me the items he brought one by one: blue knee-high angora socks, thigh-high doc martens, and simple black Adidas sneakers.

“Thank you, Jim. Before we begin, I’d like to ensure they feel nice and tender.”

I didn’t even have to command him. He spread his legs wide apart and thrust his hips forward, allowing me to reach out and grab his testes, one in each hand.

“What do you say, Jim?”

“Thank you for giving me this privilege, Goddess Ava. My balls belong to you. Please hurt them however you like.” He sounded confident, but I knew breaking him wouldn’t take long.

I rolled each squishy orb between my fingers gently but firmly. While he did his best to keep a brave face, I could tell he was already uncomfortable. The muscles in his body were stiffening, and his breath was coming in short nervous gasps.

I trapped each organ with my fingers, then pressed down forcefully with my thumbs. I increased the pressure slowly, and a soft growl escaped Jim’s throat.

I purred gently to myself. I love that feeling of power and control when you hold a man’s most prized possessions in your hand. Men think they’re so strong and powerful. But no man has any power when you have him by the balls. I felt a small wet spot forming between my legs already. He obviously enjoyed it, too – his cock was fully erect.

Jim’s growls grew increasingly fervent as I squeezed harder, flattening his tender gonads in my grip. If he were a new slave, I would’ve paused here. This level of pressure was already more than some men could handle. But Jim had been my slave for months. I had plenty of practice busting his balls. I knew it hurt. But I also knew he could take it. My knuckles turned white as I kept squeezing, and he didn’t take long to release his first bona fide yell of the night. Not that I cared. I just laughed and kept up the pressure.

When I finally let go, he doubled over, instinctively grabbing between his legs.

Damn it! He was still standing, so I obviously wasn’t squeezing hard enough.

I extended my arm with my palm open, facing upward. He placed his scrotum in my hand again, hesitating ever so slightly. I clamped down as hard as I could and immediately felt the strength leave his limbs. I kept squeezing as he slunk to the floor. I wasn’t interested in merely hurting him, after all. No. I wanted to fucking annihilate him.

I was satisfied that his balls were adequately tenderized after a couple minutes. His breath came rushing back in a series of short, sharp gasps when I let go. Not that I gave him long to recover.

“Remind me, Jim. Why are you here?”

“I want to turn my balls over to you.” His voice was an unsteady whisper, already rocked by the gentle squeezing. It’s remarkable how quickly men crumble when their private parts get attacked.

“And you’re aware of the procedure I use to add a pair of testicles to my collection?”

“You deliver a brutal, unrestrained ballbusting. Far worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

“That’s right. I’m going to leave nothing but a sopping mess between your legs. And if you can survive with both intact, I will allow you the privilege of turning them over to me.”

“Thank you, Goddess Ava.” God, he was such a good slave.

I decided to start with the blue angora socks. He put them on for me, and I enjoyed the feeling of the fuzzy, woolen fabric rubbing against my skin. He obviously enjoyed it, too; I could see his cock quiver as his skin brushed against my nearly naked body. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent, and prepared to annihilate his reproductive organs.

I made him lay on his stomach with his legs spread wide. I savored his nervous shivers as I positioned my sock-clad right foot over his fragile pink ball bag.

“Something to ask me, Jim?”

He paused for a beat, as if summoning the nerve to beg for what he truly wanted.

“Please, Goddess Ava, stand on my testicles.”

Without another word, I lifted my left foot off the ground and balanced my entire weight on his family jewels. Even through the thick angora fibers, I could feel them flatten under my feet. The wet spot in my underwear grew as I reveled in my complete dominance over the muscular man beneath me. Without thinking, I slipped a finger between my legs and gently caressed my clit, relishing my feminine superiority.

Jim, of course, was having a very different reaction. He was screaming and crying as I crushed his manhood, flattening his aching orbs like pancakes under my toes. He thrashed about, but it was no use. I had the only part of him that mattered trapped in place.

If Jim were any other man, I would’ve only held this position for a few seconds. For most men, supporting my body weight with nothing but their gonads would be unbearable. But, while Jim was clearly in agonizing pain, he was not any other man. He had asked for the privilege of turning his testicles over to me completely. That meant it didn’t matter how much he suffered. It didn’t matter how badly he hurt. All that mattered was how much I enjoyed it.

Therefore, I didn’t give him any relief. In fact, I did the opposite. I twisted my leg like a knife as his tortured cries reached a crescendo, using the ball of my foot as a rolling pin to flatten his gonads. His screams rose an octave, and his tormented convulsions grew more desperate. But it didn’t matter. I kept up the pressure, delighting in the sounds of his distress.

Finally, I let up, giving him a moment of relief. This break was not intended to be merciful. Instead, I was worried I might crack his nuts for real, and I didn’t want to break my toy just yet. He curled up in the fetal position, hands clutching desperately between his legs. His shrieks subsided to a soft mewling as he struggled to comprehend how badly I’d fucked him up in just a few short minutes.

“What’s the matter, Jim? Do you want to throw in the towel already?”

He shook his head no, although I’m sure I saw a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Well, then, anything to say to me?”

“Thank …. Thank you …” He could hardly choke out the words, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Thank you … for … standing on my …” His voice trailed off as his body rocked with an aftershock from my abuse.

“Standing on your what?”

“My balls.”

“Would you like me to stand on them some more?”

His eyes grew wide in fear, knowing he had to say yes. He nodded his head, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“Use your words, Jim.”

“Please … stand on … my testicles.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? The way you were screaming earlier, it almost felt like you didn’t like it.”

He nodded his head that he was sure.

“Come on, Jim. How many times am I going to have to tell you? Say it out loud.”

He took a deep breath as if gathering his strength.

“I love it when you hurt my balls.”

“OK, I’ll stand on them some more. But I want you to thank me as I do it just so I know you’re serious. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Goddess Ava.”

“There’s a good boy. Now, get back in position.”

He rolled onto his stomach and spread his legs, obediently presenting his now-swollen scrotum for more destruction. This time, I positioned my heels over his tender nutsack. I lifted my toes off the ground in a swift, practiced motion, and balanced my entire weight on his precious organs. I felt his masculine orbs flatten through my fuzzy new angora socks. You know that moment when you’re squishing a bug, and its skeleton begins to crack? That’s what his nuts felt like crunching under my feet.

Jim, predictably, started screaming like a wild animal. He was a good slave, but I knew even the most obedient, masochistic men on the planet couldn’t control themselves while experiencing such hellish suffering. He had made me a promise just moments ago, though, and I was upset he wasn’t keeping it.

“Anything to say to me?” I had to raise my voice so he could hear me over his cries.

“THANK YOU!!”

I was shocked he could follow through in all that pain. His voice might’ve been noticeably more shrill than usual, but there was no denying it – he kept his word.

His tortured convulsions grew more desperate as I wiggled my heels back and forth, spreading the love to every overworked nerve ending packed into his delicate nuggets. I showed him no mercy, crushing his most sensitive organs beneath my new socks. In fact, I couldn’t help it. I slipped my finger back under my microskirt and moaned softly in pleasure as I reveled in my superiority. I’m so glad I don’t have balls.

“THANK YOU!!!!”

I smirked. It was obvious he was already really hurting, so I was impressed he could maintain the presence of mind to thank me again. I knew there was a reason he was my favorite slave.

I twisted my feet viciously one final time and stepped off his tender testes. He immediately curled up and began cradling his broken manhood in his hands. Not that it was any use. I knew from experience (not personal experience, obviously) that it would take weeks for that deep, throbbing ache in his crotch to entirely subside.

“How’d that feel? Did that feel good?” I couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, as if he needed any reminding about who was in charge.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he whimpered on the floor, still rocked by the devastation wrought by my foot. I decided to show him the tiniest bit of mercy and give him a break while I took off my socks and put on the new doc martens. It took me a couple minutes to tie up the complicated laces, but he was still a discombobulated mess of limbs on the floor when I was done.

“Come on, Jim. Aren’t you going to present yourself for me?”

I used my best feminine sing-song voice to lure him back to his feet. I could almost hear the words rattle inside his tortured brain as he fought millions of years of evolutionary instincts to present his battered nuts for more abuse. It took him a moment, but he eventually lumbered back to his feet. Like a good, dutiful slave, he thrust his hips forward, making his precious package an alluring target.

“Anything to ask me?”

“Please …” I could swear he was choking back tears. “Goddess Ava …” his voice trailed off as he lost the nerve to submit to me completely.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath, working up his courage.

“I would be honored if you would hit me in the balls again, as hard as you can.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. I smiled, savoring every ounce of fear, dread, and nervous anticipation dripping off his face. We both knew that for me, tonight was nothing special. I would wake up tomorrow and go about my business as if nothing had happened. But for him, that hellish, thudding ache would remind him of my dominance for a long, long time.

I watched his face contort as I sunk my knee deep into his midsection. Guys always make the funniest faces when they get hit down there. But his face was next-level hilarious. It was a mixture of agony and surprise, with his eyes bulging from his head and his jaw dropping open. It was as if he was trying to scream, but no sound came out. He just slunk back to the floor, quickly resuming the fetal position.

Much to my surprise, a soft whisper escaped his mouth while he was writhing at my feet.

“Thank … thank you … Goddess Ava.”

I knew he was my favorite boy toy, but it was nice being constantly reminded why.

“You’re very welcome. Would you like another?”

He nodded that he would, so I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back to his feet.

I drew my leg back and flung it towards his crotch, stopping short of making contact. He predictably flinched out of the way, which I was all too happy to scold him for.

“Tsk tsk, Jim. No flinching! I thought you said you wanted this?”

“I’m sorry, Goddess Ava.”

“You will be.”

I moved my knee in slow motion, touching the underside of his scrotum ever so gently. He shivered in anticipation of the destruction we both knew was coming.

“Cover your eyes. I don’t want you flinching again.”

He did what he was told, although he was still quite jumpy as I lined up my knee. I took my time before uncorking the blow; I wanted him scared shitless.

When I finally did hit him, the impact was catastrophic. The bony tip of my knee made direct contact with his nut bag, and I could feel each orb grind against his pelvis. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn I could feel the left one pop.

Jim lost his shit. He began with a scream. Well, it was worse than a scream. The animalistic howl that escaped his throat sounded like it came from a dying pig. His entire body went momentarily stiff before collapsing to the floor. Then, he returned to life and began spinning in circles on the ground, as if that would soothe the excruciating ache consuming his being. I couldn’t help it; I burst out giggling at the ridiculousness of his pathetic display.

I could’ve stopped the session there. Most men would’ve tapped out after such a devastating assault, after all. But Jim was not like most men. For him, I was just getting started.

“Oooh, you poor baby. Do your little balls hurt?”

He sobbed on the floor in response.

“Let me check to make sure they’re OK.”

I flipped him onto his back and sat on his stomach, shooing his hands away from his broken plums. I took one in each hand and began rolling them in my fingers. They were still intact. Swollen, bruised, and hot to the touch, but whole.

Jim’s body tensed underneath me as I clasped his fragile masculinity in my hands. The wet spot between my legs grew as I held the ultimate source of male power like putty in my grip. Grinding against his muscular frame only added to my arousal.

“I don’t know what you were crying about; they feel fine to me.”

“Oh god … Please … They’re so sore.”

I bristled. Did he really have the nerve to beg for mercy?

“Please, what? Please squeeze them? Please keep beating my balls? Please show me why men are weak?”

Jim must’ve realized what he said because he immediately switched his tone.

“Please squeeze them … as hard as you can.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I clamped down, sinking my fingers deep into his tender nut meat.

Jim shrieked. I was, obviously, used to the sounds of his cries. But the sounds he made this time were noticeably different. They were more frantic. More desperate. More carnal. I must’ve found a particularly tender spot. Therefore, I did the only natural thing and pressed down harder, laughing as he squealed.

I grew closer to orgasm with each passing second. I don’t usually climax during sessions, but Jim was exceptional. He had a unique way of submitting to me so fully and completely that I couldn’t help reaching the edge. If he kept this up, I might be cumming multiple times tonight. And I could tell he was close to cumming too. Despite all the pain and suffering, his erection quivered in excitement, a small pool of precum forming at the tip. It’s what made him such an exciting slave.

I let go before accidentally giving him that release. I didn’t mind if he came from the nut-busting abuse I was dishing out, but I didn’t want that to happen so soon.

I didn’t give him long to recover.

“Ready for a few gentle kicks?”

He whimpered on the floor, but I wasn’t about to let him dilly-dally.

“I thought those balls belonged to me. Aren’t you going to present them?”

That seemed to do the trick – he slowly and unsteadily lurched into a kneeling position with his legs spread. His mangled ballsack looked so exquisitely vulnerable, dangling unprotected between his legs. It couldn’t have been easy for him to submit to me in all that pain.

Not that I cared, of course. I just drew my leg back and slammed my new doc marten boot into his crotch as hard as possible.

The first kick with a new pair of shoes is always so much fun.

The first thing I noticed was the sound they made while pulping his spunk makers. The fresh leather made the most satisfying ‘smack!’ against his bruised scrotal skin. It was like a 100-mile-per-hour fastball slamming into a catcher’s mitt. The echo from the collision hung in the air as he processed the depths of his destruction.

Much to my surprise, he didn’t shriek. He opened his mouth, but only the faintest of squeaks escaped. He toppled forward slowly and headfirst as if he had just been tazed. For one beautiful moment, he was face down and ass up like a whore waiting to be fucked. Soon, though, the strength fully drained from his limbs, and he crashed to the floor like a broken husk of a man.

“Come on, Jim, get back in position. I need more than one kick with these gorgeous new boots.”

He didn’t react, instead just gurgling at my feet as the waves of hellish agony washed over him. I wasn’t interested in letting him recuperate, though, so I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back into position.

“Anything to ask me?”

“Please …” His weak voice trailed off as he doubled over, still rocking from the sensations of my first kick.

“Please, what?”

“Please … kick me again.” He fought to choke out the words.

“Do you want me to kick you hard? Or very hard?”

He openly sobbed, knowing what he had to say.

“Very hard, Goddess Ava.”

Satisfied, for now, with his submissiveness, I drew back my leg and flung it as hard as I could into his midsection.

This kick was even more devastating than the first. While the thick toe of my new doc marten muted most of the sensation for me, I could still feel the gruesome crunch of his plums against his pelvis. He screeched, then slunk to his knees into the child’s pose. As if that would help.

“Did that hit the spot?” I just had to tease him – he looked too cute writhing on the floor.

“Oh … oh god …” That last kick was clearly more than he could handle, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

“I think you meant ‘oh Goddess.’ Or maybe, ‘thank you, Goddess Ava, may I have another?”

He just whimpered beneath me. I could sense his nerve cracking; he was clearly at the limit of how much he could take. But today wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about how much I wanted to give him. And I wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

“You should be able to take this much better; I’ve been training you for ages.”

He tried to get back in position. He really did. But I had properly scrambled his eggs, and much of his manly strength was gone. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back to his knees. To his credit, he managed to move his hands away from his midsection, which most guys in his position wouldn’t have been able to do.

“Would you promise me something, Jim?”

“Anything, Goddess Ava.” He could barely whisper the words.

“I’m going to kick you three times in rapid succession. No matter how badly it hurts, I want you to stay in position, legs spread. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll … I’ll try.” I could almost smell the fear dripping off his body. We both knew these weren’t going to be gentle love taps.

“You’ll try?! Remind me, Jim. Who owns your balls?”

“You …” His voice was heavy with defeat.

“That’s right. They are not your property; they’re mine. And I want to kick them three times in a row.”

He took a deep breath, mustering what little willpower he had left. He spread his knees as wide as possible and thrust his hips forward.

“Of course, Goddess Ava. Please kick them as many times as you like.”

I put the toe of my beautiful new ball-breaking weapon in the center of his crotch to line up my brutal barrage. He winced as it gently grazed the underside of his nut bag. I grinned. If his man meat was that tender and sore, this flurry of kicks would be a sight to behold.

My first kick was right on the money. I could tell I made perfect contact because of the horrific, squelching, skin-on-leather smacking sound that filled the air. Jim let out a long, deep grunt, fighting with every ounce of his being to keep his legs spread. His knees shook, and his arms flailed, but to his credit, he kept himself presented.

I waited for a beat to unleash the second kick. I wanted to test his willpower. I wanted him to fight his natural instincts to cover up and give himself to me, no matter how badly it hurt. I wanted him to keep his legs apart and present his swollen, aching, tender coin purse for me to abuse. Which, much to my surprise, he did. No wonder he was my favorite slave.

My second kick was bone-shivering. It sounded like a brick dropped from a 3rd story window crashing onto a concrete sidewalk. The toe of my boot made direct contact with his swollen left orb, flattening it against his pelvis. To me, it felt like I stubbed my toe through my boot. I can only imagine how painful it was for him. But what followed was one of my favorite things to ever happen in a session.

You should know that it’s tough for me to pick my favorite aspect of ballbusting. There’s so much to like, after all. For one, the dominance is exhilarating. There’s nothing quite like holding a man’s most prized possessions in the palm of your hand, controlling them like knobs on a pain thermostat. I get off knowing they have no possible way to retaliate since I don’t have a pair of weaknesses dangling between my legs like they do. Their reactions are golden, too. I love watching men suffer. Their cries are music to my ears, and there’s poetic justice when they writhe at my feet. Of course, humiliating them is so entertaining. Society tells men to protect their delicate nuggets at all costs, yet after I put on one sexy outfit, they’ll beg me to destroy them.

If I’m being honest, though, none of those are my favorite parts of torturing testicles. No. Above all else, my favorite part is watching the man’s demeanor change during the session. Most men start off confident. And why wouldn’t they? All their life, they’ve been told they’re the stronger sex. Then, after a few measly kicks, they turn into a whimpering mess willing to do anything to protect their precious little gonads. Men are such wimps when it comes to ball pain.

But the best part, my absolute favorite part, that perfect ‘chefs kiss’ moment, is when they stop fighting. Not every guy gets there, but the truly special ones do. For a select few, when I’ve well and truly fucked up their family jewels, they just surrender. They stop trying to protect themselves and they submit to whatever gruesome savagery I have in mind. No matter how badly it hurts or how much they want to fight it, they open their legs and give themselves to me. That’s how I know their balls are truly mine. That’s how I know I’ve changed the very core of their being. Gone is the big strong man from the beginning of the session. All that’s left is an obedient little pain slut willing to do whatever it takes to keep me amused. Just thinking about it turns me on.

So, after that second kick, I almost climaxed on the spot when Jim didn’t curl up in a little ball but instead spread his legs wider and thrust his hips forward. He had completely given up trying to protect himself and instead succumbed to my desires. Deep down in his subconscious, I knew it had finally clicked – his balls no longer belonged to him. They belonged to me. Of course, that only made me want to hit him harder.

Therefore, my third and final kick might have, honest to God, been the hardest I’ve ever kicked anyone in my entire life. I drew my leg high behind me, swung my hips just right, shifted my weight, and slammed my boot into his grapes with all my strength for the third time. It was only fair. I mean, here was my most dutiful slave completely ignoring his suffering. He had earned the most exquisitely excruciating punishment I could dish out.

I saw it in his eyes first.

There was a brief flicker of realization as my foot made contact. I watched his face warp in slow motion as the millions of overworked nerve endings crammed into his swollen testicles fired off signals of white-hot bloody murder. The lightning bolts of searing pain traveled through his spermatic cords into his abdomen, up his spine, then coursed through his entire body.

The sensations must’ve really set in after a couple seconds. His mouth opened, and out came a deep, garbled howl that sounded like it came from a castrated pig. I’d never heard sounds like that come out of a man before. Ball pain really is the best, isn’t it? He never would’ve made that sound if it weren’t for me.

Then, there were the convulsions. His legs snapped shut, his hands flew to his midsection, and he toppled to the floor, rolling back and forth as if some magical position on the ground was going to undo the damage done by my foot. The way he reacted, you’d think I had just branded his baby makers with a cattle prod.

I couldn’t help it. Watching this big, strong man writhe beneath me was too hot to handle. I slipped two fingers between my dripping wet folds and went to work on my clit. It didn’t take much to get me to the edge of orgasm. I just closed my eyes and listened to Jim’s pathetic whimpers, letting them constantly remind me of my feminine dominance over the male sex.

My thighs began to quiver in less than a minute as I timed the rhythm of my practiced hand to his pained cries. Each yelp and grunt brought me closer to the edge. I threw my head back and felt my heartbeat flutter while replaying the last kick repeatedly in my mind. Jim was so obedient. So submissive. So beautifully compliant. Despite all his suffering, he had presented his most precious organs to me, knowing precisely what I would do to them. I had plenty of experience dominating guys, but I’d never felt so in control.

I didn’t take long to succumb to the throws of euphoria. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned in pleasure while he groaned in pain. I shivered in ecstasy while he squirmed in agony. It was a beautiful display of women’s supremacy, and we both knew it. It was the best orgasm of my life.

After a few minutes, the rush of my first release of the evening began to fade, and I re-focused on the task at hand: turning Jim’s manhood to mush. I had one last pair of shoes to try.

Meanwhile, Jim was still whimpering on the floor, trying to cope with the devastation wrought by my foot.

“Oh god …” I smiled from ear to ear. Completely obliterating a man was so satisfying.

“She’s not going to help you.” Yes, God is a woman. Why else would testicles, the definitive symbol of masculinity, be so fragile and weak?

I knelt between his legs and shooed his hands away. I wanted to inspect the damage up close and personal. He groaned, body tense, while I rolled his aching orbs between my fingers.

“They must be so sore and tender. It’s almost like some brutal bitch has been bashing the ever-living fuck out of them.”

“Actually, it was a beautiful Goddess.” I beamed. Jim really was the best slave I ever had. I chose to overlook the fact that he could barely whisper the words.

“Would you like her to keep going?”

“Of course, Goddess Ava …” He paused, trying to gather his strength to continue talking. “I love it when you bust my balls. They make me weak, and I’m lucky you’re here to beat them the way they deserve to be beaten.”

My cheeks flushed, and my pussy got even wetter. Now that he was wholly passed his limits, he surrendered entirely and was just giving himself to me. Men like him were hard to find. I knew he was telling the truth, too. His 7.5-inch throbbing erection and the ever-growing pool of precum made it crystal clear just how much he enjoyed my abuse. I would’ve enjoyed taking his full length inside me on any other night. But that’s not what tonight was about. No. Tonight, the only thing on my mind was delivering unrestrained, sadistic, nut-crunching torture.

“Which one hurts worse?”

“The left one.”

I held his oversized left testicle in both hands. In its swollen state, there was plenty of real estate for all ten of my fingers. I clamped down once I had it firmly in my grip.

He immediately began shrieking, which only served to make me squeeze harder. I plunged my thumbs deep into the delicate insides of his inflamed left ball, laughing as his screams got higher and higher pitched. His arms and legs flailed about with no coordination whatsoever, instinctively trying to escape. It didn’t matter, though. I held his bollock in my hand, and there was nothing he could do to stop me.

I played with his battered left gonad for several minutes, enjoying the various sounds he made when I pressed down in different places. For example, when I dug my thumb into the back of his frail egg, he let out a long, high-pitched wail. But he made a much deeper grunting sound when I pressed my fingers into the middle of the organ as if cutting it in half. I only stopped when I worried that he would run out of oxygen and pass out. I didn’t want him to escape any of the pain. Not yet, at least.

I only gave him a few seconds to catch his breath before switching to the right gonad. I figured it was only fair that I even things out for him. We wouldn’t want the right one getting jealous, would we?

His cries were more constant when I focused on the right one. It was a different type of scream, but it didn’t matter whether I squeezed the front, the back, or the middle. He just flailed around like a headless chicken, powerless to protect himself. However, no matter how I squeezed, his cock stayed impressively erect, leaking more and more precum by the minute.

Finally, my fingers grew tired, and I let go. His breath came rushing back in a series of fevered gasps as his hands flew to his tortured scrotum.

Once I was done grinding his gonads to a fine paste with my hands, I made him change my shoes for me, but not before kissing the boots that had just decimated his family jewels. That must have been so humiliating for him. I don’t know how he could bring himself to worship the same boots that had just destroyed him, but he looked so cute doing it.

Well, maybe after pleading for his own destruction, kissing my boots wasn’t so bad.

I stood over Jim in a power pose, my hands on my hips and my chest thrust high. He cowered at my feet, still reeling from my earlier torment.

“Should I kick them harder than they’ve ever been kicked before?”

“Absolutely, Goddess Ava.” Gone was the hesitation from earlier. This time, I could hear the excitement in his voice. I did my best to hide my delight at his submissiveness.

“And you wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of me torturing your testicles, would you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good, I’m glad you agree. Let’s tie you down, so you don’t accidentally cover up after I hit you.”

A pang of nervousness flashed across his face, but it disappeared instantly.

“That’s a great idea, Goddess Ava. Thank you for allowing me to submit to you so completely.” I felt myself get flush in the face because of his unblinking obedience.

\[Story continues in comments due to character limits\]