Tracey Knows Best

A continuation of At Tracey's Feet...

Nikki came home from work to find me curled up on the couch, nursing my battered groin, unresponsive. I was catatonic from the severe beating my reproductive organs had just taken. I lay prostrate on the couch with my eyes half-closed and my mouth agape. The radiating ache all through my abdomen had not subsided. 

As conservative as Nikki was, her short pencil skirt, thigh-high stockings and black heels were doing a number on me. It was reassuring at least that after the hammering Tracey had given my nuts, I could still muster some libido.

That old cliché of hot girls sticking together was pretty true in the case of Nikki and Tracey. They even looked similar, although Nikki had bleach blonde hair and a freckled complexion.

Nikki stood over me as I lay on the couch. She lifted her red-soled Louboutin heel up to my open mouth and gave it a gentle tap, closing it, grazing lips gently with the sole as she passed by.

I remember those heels. I gave them to her as a birthday present, but secretly they were a present for me. You see Nikki was thoroughly unadventurous in the bedroom and had a relatively low libido, which was a shame considering how often she could produce an erection from me. Or any man for that matter. 

Most nights, I would try to fuck her but she would say she wasn't in the mood. Then I would have to wait for her to fall asleep. Initially I was just lifting the covers and jerking off to her body. Her beautiful, toned, freckled and voluptuous body. 

But then I needed some help, so I started using her used panties, sniffing them while jerking myself. Later I would turn to her socks and shoes to indulge my foot fetish. Using her heels as masturbatory aids was incredibly gratifying, especially when I'd paid for them. It made me feel like she owned me. Like I was her pet. Many a late night had been spent with her Louboutins and the sweet aroma of her sweat from a day's work and transit.

Of course I'd since digressed to using the personal items of my housemate Tracey. She very rarely did laundry, which made her garments particularly satisfying.

It's incredible how the two have such different tasting sweat and scents, each eliciting a very different sexual experience.

Nikki turned to Tracey who was casually sitting unconcerned on the couch next to me, transfixed by the television, “What happened to him?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, shifting her attention to my prostrate form and then back to the television. You see, Tracey had ex-boyfriends with ballbusting fetishes she told me later. She had crushed testicles before and was not surprised by the state I was in. She'd seen it all: the begging, the crying, the moaning, the howling, the vomiting and even the bleeding. Her final outing with one of her exes required her to take him to the Emergency Room. She sterilised him. And although he recovered his libido, she dumped him because she thought his cum tasted funny now that he'd been broken.

He would still come calling to our place late some nights and profess that he still loved her. But Tracey would have none of it. If she was feeling horny she'd fuck him, seeing as they didn't need condoms anymore. This was on the condition however that he no longer had sex with anyone else. 

"A girl has got be careful," she explained. Tracey still fucked anyone she wanted though. Typical Tracey. I'm certain she must have given him chlamydia once, because she told me she got herself treated but never bothered to inform him.

If she wasn't horny though, she'd give him a swift kick between the legs and then slam the door in his face. But he kept coming back. Once he brought her a bouquet of flowers and the force of her kick made him crumple up the whole bunch. Poor guy, so pathetic, but I completely understood his needs.

Back to our living room, a wicked thought crossed Tracey's mind. You see, Nikki wasn’t particularly intelligent and hence very gullible. “I had to take him to the doctor today, Nikki, because he was having some issues with his berries.”

“What kind of issues? Did he sit down on them again?” Nikki said with genuine concern, pouting her full red lips. This was an excuse I'd often use for my extensive bruising.

“Ha! No. Well, there’s this condition called um… ballbusting! That’s it. And Daniel’s balls might explode.”

“Oh no!” She squeaked, her hand raised to cover her mouth. “My poor baby.” She knelt down beside me on the couch, her right hand gently caressed my face, while her left traced down to my crotch and protectively cupped my genitals. She wriggled her hand roughly between mine. I started to get hard at the sensation despite the dull ache still lingering in my body. “How do we fix it?” Her hand rubbed my package tenderly.

“Well, to relieve the pressure, we have to hit them really hard.”

I could still hear, although I was beyond participating in the conversation. I liked where it was going. I was suddenly keenly aware of what Tracey was up to. She was making Nikki an unknowing participant in our little ballbusting games.

“Won’t that hurt like in the movies? Like in that movie On the Doll, where that girl punches that guy in the ballsies until he passes out?”

"Don't be silly that was a comedy!"

"Oh..." she paused, "I do miss the point sometimes."

“Anyway they’re just nuts, Nikki. Who cares?”

“So is that why he’s in so much pain?”

“Yes, Nikki, he needs you to hit him really hard in his little ballsies, otherwise he won’t be able to have babies.”

"Really?!" She said exasperated, her ample chest heaving.

"Sure. Why not," said Tracey tersely, annoyed it was taking this long for Nikki to bust me.

“I didn’t know it was that serious! And you waited for me?! All this time?! Why didn’t you do it yourself?”

“They’re your balls, Nikki. I didn’t want to handle your property without your permission.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry. Thank you. Well, any time you need to bust his nuts you have my permission.”

“I might need to use my teeth though. You know, to really crush down with my molars and loosen them up. Is that okay?” Tracey shot me a menacing look.

“I want to have his babies some day, so I give you permission to use any means necessary. Now what should I do?!”

“Well, for starters, you don’t want him freaking out the neighbours, so you’re going to have to gag him. Quick, take off your stockings.”

Nikki hurriedly kicked off her heels and slipped off her sweaty stockings. She’d been wearing them since the morning and they’d accrued a rather strong aroma. She slipped her heels back on. She scrunched up her tights into a ball and leaned in close to my face, cradling my head now.

“Open up, sweetie, Nikki’s going to make your balls feel so good,” I parted my lips willingly and she stuffed the salty, aromatic delight into my mouth. I was hard as a rock. "Is that normal?"

"He's a boy, Nikki, they're always hard over something or other."

"I guess so." She turned to Tracey, “What now?”

“Now, you pound his meat.”

“Okay.” She removed my protective hands and composed herself - tucking her hair behind her ear and licking her lips - before firing a timid slap at my crotch, swatting my testicles. I convulsed as the hit although light struck already damaged goods. Tracey wasn’t pleased enough by my reaction.

“Hmmm... I’ve got a better idea, let’s sit him up.” Tracey scooted over and pushed me upright on the couch. 

“Jump on the couch." She instructed. "Now have you ever stomped grapes?” she said cruelly, addressing Nikki but turning to look me in the eyes. Nikki nodded excitedly in the affirmative. I could only breathe heavily swamped in a cloud of lust. My eyes were full of fearful apprehension at what was to come next. 

Tracey leaned into me, one arm around my shoulders as she sat next to me on the couch, the other roughly holding a scruff of my hair, keeping my head upright so I wouldn’t miss a second of my destruction. 

Nikki jumped up on the couch. Still wearing her heels, she didn’t need prompting. She stood between my legs, the sharp points of her black heels inches from my sensitive organs.

“I’m going to make your little nads all better, baby,” Nikki cooed, and then she lifted her right foot and gently placed it onto my balls. She slowly lifted her left foot up and onto me as well. Even with her slow and gentle transition, her full weight resting on my package was excruciating. The couch cushion took some of the impact but I'd already experienced a lot of trauma. Every muscle and vein in my body bulged. I was emitting a high-pitched keening noise through the stocking gag.

Then she started marching in place, lifting one foot at a time, slowly picking up the pace until she was stomping down in forceful motions, working up a sweat in her skintight short black skirt.

All the while Tracey held me in place, whispering in my ear, “You owe me. Every time you jerk off to the memory of today, I want you to remember I did this for you. Your balls are mine. And I will destroy them however I see fit. I am your everything now.” She turned to Nikki, “Try jumping.”

“Okay!” She obliged, more than happy to unknowingly destroy what was left of my balls from the morning’s activities. I swear she leapt a foot off the ground every time. Wave after wave of earth-shattering pain resonated through me. I felt like I was going to black out. I struggled in vain, the pain was incapacitating.

Tracey turned back to me, her hot breath in my ear, “You feel that pain, honey? That’s what it feels like to almost be castrated. No more babies for you. Your nuggets are going to definitely be useless now.”

And that was when the cum started gushing out of me like a geiser, flooding my pants, the wet stains visible through the thin fabric. Nikki stopped jumping and came to rest abruptly standing on my balls, pressing them further into the couch as they spurted forth the last of their load.

“Did we fix it?” She asked Tracey innocently.

“For today,” she turned to look me dead in the eyes. “But it’s going to be a long road to recovery for these nuts.”

“Oh okay,” said Nikki nonchalantly, jumping off me onto the floor. “I’m going to go take a shower then.” She undressed as she walked down the hall, dropping her clothes along the hallway until I could see only her naked outline cross into the bathroom and close the door behind her.

“How are they hanging?” asked Tracey as she gingerly removed the stockings from my mouth.

“They hurt.” I hoarsely whispered.

Tracey burst out laughing. “They're supposed to hurt, silly! What did you think was going to happen? Have you seen us play soccer? We can rocket a ball halfway across the field. What chance did you think your little balls were going to have against our feet?” She nestled my head into her breasts in an attempt to comfort me. “There, there.  Poor baby.” She ran her fingers gently through my hair.

“But you’re both so petite and delicate.” I said meekly.

“I know, honey. And that’s what makes it so funny for me, because our small and adorable little pedicured toes can make you shrivel up and wish you were never born. Now let me check you for damage.” I could hear the water rushing from the shower, I’m sure Nikki was naively showering without a care, thinking she’d just helped her boyfriend with his medical problem, instead of realizing she’d nearly castrated him. I’m sure she was soaping up her voluptuous figure by now.

I breathed in the scent of Tracey’s sweat and old perfume again and nuzzled my face deeper into her bosom.

Tracey’s hand traced down my body to my fly and she gently unzipped me, pulling my testicles out of the fly like she was handling a wounded bird.

“Oh dear, they are very swollen, but looks like they’re still intact.”

I was relieved, but it was short-lived.
“I think you’ve got some recovery ahead of you, you should probably sleep it off.” Tracey held my whole world in the palm of her left hand and slowly raised her right menacingly. “Lights out,” was the last thing I heard her say in her sultry tone before I blacked out.

Continued here.