Planting the Seed

Every fetish has its inception. A careless kick between the legs as a boy can have a grown man begging to worship the toes that just pulverised his most sensitive organs. 

     Tracey yawned as she sauntered into the kitchen, her hips sashaying as she did. Her silk robe was parted, the tie hung down open by her waist as superfluously as my thoroughly-sterilised testicles now hung between my legs. Her ample cleavage poured out from the curtains the robe formed, framing her bodice perfectly, unencumbered by a bra. Her panties alone provided the only semblance of modesty as she greeted us that morning. I couldn't help but gaze longingly at her buxom frame, her beautifully maintained manicure and pedicure. There may even be more nail polish on her body than fabric I thought.

     I gazed over to my wife, seated at the dining table beside me, dressed much the same, but looking every one of her 30 years older than her young daughter Tracey. Of course she was 30 years older than me too, I had met her as the mother of my friend, but of course I had met her in that formative period of my life when a passing infatuation with an older woman became an obsession that could last a lifetime. Ever since she caught me as a shy 12 year old, masturbating furiously in the bathroom of her home to a picture of her in a swimsuit from a family vacation, I was hers. I remember she was stunned initially but didn't leave the room, she instead surveyed my pathetic form, holding my adolescent cock in my right hand and the photo of her in the other. I couldn't help but remember the subtle passing of a smirk across her face, I had hoped she was perhaps even flattered. She crossed her arms, emphasising her bust, "Go on," she stated, "Finish." She raised an eyebrow, egging me on.

     I was shocked but too caught up in my lust to think sensibly. I held her gaze, then looked her womanly figure up and down. She was a stunning specimen in her early 40's at the time, she'd just returned from her office job wearing a pencil black skirt, stockings and black pumps with a tight full length woollen blouse. I started to slowly masturbate once again, she let me build up slowly, breathing harder and harder in a false sense of security. She removed a cigarette from a pack she'd been holding and lit it slowly, taking a sensual drag and narrowing her gaze. Oh, how I wanted those lips to purse around me in that moment.
     She was a seasoned woman and could tell that I was soon approaching climax. As the first spurt of cum rocketed forth, so too did her athletic and sleek right leg, jamming her rounded high heel's toe into my vulnerable developing organs. I was in sudden agony, the pain rushing up from my balls into my abdomen, crippling me suddenly. I fell to the floor, still sending wave after wave of cum across the floor. I was oblivious to what happened next, other than knowing I must have been on the floor for some time before I had the strength to stand against the pain.

     She returned much later with an ice pack in her dainty hand. "Oh good, you're up." She walked menacingly to my person, taking her time, the click of her heels lingered with intent. I shuddered, expecting another assault on my delicate organs. She laughed at my shudder, the lit cigarette still hanging from her crimson lips, a girlish but cruel laugh. "Don't worry, I think you've learned your lesson. Now don't let me catch you doing that again or I might have to make sure you never can, if you catch my drift." She winked at me.

     "What do you mean?" I stuttered.

     She rolled her eyes, looking every bit the brat she must have been in her teens and early twenties, twisting every man effortlessly to her whim. "I mean, if you do it again I'll kick you so hard between the legs that I'll rupture both of your nuts. Understand now?" She spat. "Or do I need to put those balls on the toilet seat and slam down the lid?"

     I nodded hurriedly, ashamed of my profound weakness before her.

     "Good," she chided, bringing her hand up to my chin in a consolatory fashion. "Now, this is for you." She pulled the waistband of my underpants away from my body a good 6 inches, slipping the rock-hard ice pack inside. I looked up to meet her gaze as she stared deeply into my eyes, giving me a condescending glare as she cocked her head to the side, drinking in my fear of the impending agony I was about to experience. My eyes begged her not to follow through in vain. "Oh God, no."

     She let go of the band suddenly and with a loud "crack" the ice pack slammed into my groin, already sensitive from having her toes buried deep within, the pain hit me like a wave, I was momentarily delirious. I whimpered, frozen. She stood and surveyed me menacingly, hands on ample hips, awaiting the full reality of the pain to sink in. Then it hit me like a wall and I was prostrate on the ground in seconds.

     What felt like hours later I hobbled out of the bathroom and stumbled down the street back home, never mentioning this to anyone. Despite what she must have only been doing with the best of intentions to set me straight for my actions, she had embedded a deep-seated lust for older women, their feet and the pain they could cause so easily to my reproductive organs.

     Fast-forward to the current moment, as I stared longingly at her, just as I did that bikini-clad photograph. She was sitting beside me, reading the newspaper through her tortoise-shelled glasses, her silver hair flowing in waves enticingly down her chest.

     "Do you remember that time you caught me jerking off to that photograph of you?"
     She lowered her newspaper and raised an eyebrow over her thick-rimmed glasses,  surveying her pet "As I recall I told you if you didn't cut it out, I'd make your little nads very familiar with my toilet seat and how it feels with me on top of it." She pursed her lips enticingly, "Tell me, did you ever blow your load while thinking about me after that day?"
     She smirked, she already knew the answer. She raised her heavenly body from her chair, leaned over me, slipping her small, soft and warm hand past my waistband and around my balls. "Come now, we've got some toilet training to do." She squeezed me roughly, eliciting a guttural moan.

Friends with Benefits

     Hannah stormed into the living room, clearly excited to tell me what she'd learned in psychology class today. She hurried in and propped herself down on the couch next to me. The stunning redhead was bubbling over trying to hold it all in.

     "Man, you guys are so fucked up." She chimed.

     "What are you talking about?"

     "We were learning all about fetishes and deviant behaviour today."

     "Oh yeah?" I bit. She had my full attention now. Even hearing a woman talk about my proclivities often got me worked up enough to warrant a stroke later. 

     "Some guys are into feet, that's called podophilia. Have you heard of that?"

     "Uh- no," I lied. I had in fact laid awake many a night with one of Hannah's high heels covering my face, drinking in the sweet aroma of her foot sweat from a hard day's work.

     "Well, some guys like to suck and lick girl's feet and toes. It can even make them cum."

     I could feel the blood rushing to my groin, I stirred in my seat as my pants started to make a telltale tent.

     "I can't imagine it." She looked ponderously down at her own beautiful feet encased in a gorgeous set of black heels I'd gotten familiar with multiple times. "I can't imagine my stinky feet ever getting a guy to pump on his iron. Or anywhere near enough to blow his wad."

     Hannah was the best friend a guy could ask for. The dirty talk was a stunning masturbatory aid. But if I was really pushed to fault her, it would have been a dream come true if this lustful creature wasn't a lesbian. So many of our interactions left me sexually frustrated. I was feeling today would be no different.

     "Hey Dan," she cooed. I did love the way she almost sang my name. "If you had a secret fetish, you'd tell me, right?" She looked at me with her big blue doe eyes and batted her eyelashes, tempting me into her trap.

      "Well..." I started. She scooted over to me on the couch and placed a gentle palm on my tenting crotch. I moaned. She'd caught me off guard but ever-so willing.

      "Ooo..." she chirped, "Somebody looks like they were enjoying our little chat." She giggled, "It's okay, you're safe with me. Tell me what you've always fantasised about a girl doing? I think it could be useful for school for me to know how common these fetishes are. Plus you should think of this as your friend helping you out. Even though I'm a lesbian I am still aware that you're hetero, and I'm sure you've thought about what this pussy must be like."

      I was already short of breath as her hand expertly worked my shaft. What a shame those hands only ever worked clits. 

     "Do you like feet? Do you want to suck on my toes and smell my stinky shoes, baby?"

     "Yes, please," I moaned.

     "Wow, there you go!" she continued her ministrations on my throbbing cock through my pants. "They did say it was common. Well, you can borrow my shoes and socks any time you like, Dan. Just don't cum inside them... You fucking little pervert." The dirty talk was having its intended effect.

     "Thank you, Mistress."

     She burst out laughing, "Mistress?! And you're a little bitch to match too. I always thought you'd make a great sub. Guess who's going to be licking my high heels clean from now on."

     I jerked forward and moaned heavily at the suggestion, "Thank you, Mistress," she giggled.        

     "Ooo... He likes the sound of that. Almost made you cum in your pants, huh? I can feel a bit of a wet patch. You're such a fucking loser. Tell me what else do you imagine me doing to you?"

     I was completely enthralled by her game now. "I- I like to get hit."

     She increased the pace of her delicate porcelain hand as it worked my aching dick. "You want to get slapped and whipped? I can do that, honey. That's easy." She purred.

     "No, not like that, mistress, I like to get hit in- in the balls."

     "Oh really?" She moaned in my ear. She pulled her hand back and slapped back down on my jewels playfully before again returning to her tender hand-job. "Like that?"

     She'd knocked some wind out of me, but I desperately wanted to see how cruel she could be.

     "Please, mistress. Harder." I begged her. "I fantasise every night about a strong woman in my life busting my balls at every opportunity, just for her amusement. I want her to own them completely, and I want to be afraid that at any moment she could rupture them completely and not care in the slightest.

     "Okay," she started, drinking in just how vulnerable i had made myself in this moment. "I'll tell you what, I'm going to tell you what I'll do. I'm going to take these high heels, and the second you cum, I'm going to stand up and then stomp down on your balls so hard, you'll be crying for your mommy. Then I'm going to slowly grind you out like a cigarette, back and forth until there's nothing but minced meat left of your precious little balls." She was practically moaning this into my ear, her hot breath working me up into a frenzy as she described how she was going to end my fertility. "Then I'm going to drop my delicate little knee deep into the mangled mess left in your sack, and I'm going to bounce my knee down hard on your testicles until I make sure you can never, ever have babies."

     That was enough to send me over the edge. I came violently in a massive torrent that completely saturated me, the stains soon visible through my pants. I was in ecstasy, in the deep throes of a violent orgasm.

     Hannah looked pleased with herself, a deviant smile affixed her face as she drank in her masterwork. She was completely aware and intoxicated by the effortless power she demonstrated over me and how easily she could manipulate other men the very same way. She felt empowered. 

     I was post-coital and delirious, spellbound by what this turn of events would mean for our friendship and my longstanding secret desire to have her inflict ball pain whenever she deemed fit. I could already imagine her coming home from school to find me having skipped on my chores. Her sleek frame, her lustrous red-hair caught in the gale force of her anger, majestically bobbing as it framed her malice-ridden face. I pulsed another load of cum at the very thought of her launching her lithe leg back and then hurtling it up and into my delicate organs, pulverising my manhood along with my identity as a man. Not caring whether I would ever function again, knowing only that it amused her to see me in pain would be enough.

     She stood in front me as I backed in her radiant and intoxicating beauty. 

     "Thank you," I barely breathed out, exasperated.

     "Don't thank me yet. You know, I caught you sniffing these shoes the other night, but you didn't notice."

     "What-" I started.

     "That's right, and I saw you make a little mess all over yourself. So I think it's about time these heels got a little payback." She raised her high heel menacingly over my crotch. "Tell you what, I've been walking around all day in these. So after I give you a big old stomp and then twist my foot around in there a good... hmmm... let's say ten times, you can lick the dirt off these heels and then bury your nose inside. Sound like a plan, sweetie?"

     I spread my legs wide. "Yes, mistress."

     "Good boy," she half smiled before jamming her heel-clad foot excruciatingly deep into my groin, pinning my reproductive organs cruelly to the seat below me. She blew some hair from her face as I collapsed onto the couch, convulsing from the pain. Her gorgeous leg tensed as it kept me pinned by the slowly rupturing gonads to the couch. I keened a high-pitched pathetic sound, inconsolably in a state of anguish.

     "Now the fun part," she smirked as she began to count.

     "One." she said menacingly as she twisted her gorgeous foot. I cried out pitifully. 

     It did not stop her.

Ballbuster Hall of Fame - Katie Lee Pritchard

Girlfriend of your dreams. This girl looks like she would spit in your mouth and sack tap you just to say hello.

No remorse in those eyes. I'll bet the mug shot photographer was nursing a semi the whole time she was staring down that lens.

I'll begin by saying this news story makes me very uncomfortable about my fetish. In that, my pants are now uncomfortably tight. This was a woman who was attempting to cuck her boyfriend, and when he refused, she non-consensually likely ruptured his testicles. As guilty as that makes me feel, the more I read the harder I got... And even now I still fantasise about Katie a lot. In an interview later, the boyfriend even admits he's still in love with her. Can you blame him?

This is the sort of girl your mother warned you about. She sounds like she has a long history of mental health problems. There's a story floating around about her getting arrested and kicking a cop in the nuts as well. So it's likely she has no remorse and even enjoys it, which gives me an uncomfortable amount of precum in my shorts. This is a woman who knows your weaknesses and is willing to exploit them to get what she wants.

She is probably the type of girl that makes her boyfriend wait on her for every need, and treats him like her personal slave. Submissives like myself aside, I can see why any man would stick around long after she handed out a non-consensual vasectomy. This petite hairdresser looks like she could suck the cum out of your dick in record time, but then crush your balls to leave you something to remember her by.

This is not the woman you marry or plan to spend the rest of your life with. She's the girl you crawl around on all-fours for, fulfilling every whim she has until your mental breakdown. She discards you for someone younger, fitter, richer, or probably just with a bigger dick. And you move on with a reduced sperm count and memories to jerk off in the bathroom with for the rest of your life. No matter how boring your marriage is, you can always run away and jerk off to the time Katie kicked you in the balls because you hadn't made dinner in time. I'm not sure what it says about me as a person that knowing all this, I would have absolutely let her cuck me and then I'd beg just to suck on her toes after she came home, and probably have cum while doing so. I need help. The sort of help Katie can provide.

I stalked her Instagram for you, so you can spend a little quality time with your hand imagining what being her slave would be like too.

A Ballbusting Princess deserves to be worshipped.

I would have sucked the dirt off each toe and licked her soles clean,
letting her rest her tired feet agonisingly deep in my crotch.
Maybe she's even sipping a cool drink I've just made her,
as she slowly crushes my testicle meat with her bare heel.

And she has ballbusting boots too. Hnnng... Such a satisfying thud those would make,
crushing the air out of my lungs as she mercilessly buries them into my pelvis.

The look she gives you as she slowly destroys any chance of you ever becoming a father.

I would kneel down and spread my legs for her instinctively,
then beg for her legs to make me regret being born a man.

Definitely given out a vasectomy or two before.
In high school she would have nutted you hard for not doing her homework on time.
You'd be her little high-kick practice dummy.
Those cheer skirts probably made it real easy to rack unsuspecting nuts too,
sailing up and away at the split,
giving you a preview of the beautiful crotch only football players got to taste.
I'll bet she did gymnastics too, she'd be extra flexible.
You could probably taste her toes after the backswing she could take.

The nails that mangled her boyfriend's chances of having children. 

I would have begged to lick those heels clean.
And then the sweat off those soles. Divine.

After a long hard day's work, the sight that greets you when you get home...
You immediately get rock hard at the sight of this Goddess.
Seconds before she grabs a hold of your nutmeat for not cooking dinner on time.
Oh no, she's had a few drinks after work,
she always makes you hurt extra good when she's a little bit tipsy.
Sounds like the boyfriend wasn't into ballbusting,
in this outfit I probably would have cum mid-squeeze.
I'm sure that would have only made her angrier. Yummy.

Ballbusting by Appointment

All it would take is a well placed foot and suddenly I become the perfect slave.
What I wouldn't give to feel that foot drain me completely and then ruin me for all women.

I picked up the nearest patient's chart and headed for the clinic room. I had to walk gingerly to avoid reigniting the searing pain still lingering in my balls. A painfully sweet memory of the toll the hands - but more importantly the sexy French manicured nails - of that hooker had taken on my reproductive glands. The dull ache was a constant reminder of how thoroughly and easily I had been owned by that beautiful young woman, but still left me with copious painful jerk material. Even though it still hurt to cum, even weeks later, the thought that she so effortlessly ruined me, made me cum harder through the pain.
     I glanced down at the chart to see the patient's name before entering the room. It read "Clare Coleman." I entered the room and immediately froze. It was her! The hooker from that fateful night. She was dressed to kill in a tight, body hugging summer dress. It rode so high up her crossed legs, with enough cleavage to send blood pulsing into my cock. She was wearing a strappy set of heels, and I couldn't help but appreciate her flawless makeup and mani-pedi. She was just as angelic as I remembered in my fantasies.
     "Ms- Ms Coleman," I stuttered.
     "Hi," she shot me a warm, friendly tone. Not at all recognising me for the man she humbled so completely only weeks before.
     "What brings you in today?" I began to sweat. I couldn't believe my luck, but I tried to maintain my composure desperately.
     "Well, it's actually my feet. I spend a lot of time at work on them, and they're really sore. Do you think you could take a look? Sorry but they're a little sweaty today."
     "That's nice. I mean, um, well, that's fine. Sure, yes, I can," I attempted. She gave me a knowing smirk. I kneeled down at her feet, I cleared my throat. "Could you take your shoes off?"
     "Well, normally a guy buys me dinner first," she chided with a very feminine giggle.
     "I'm sorry?" I started, very uncomfortable with my personal life careening so wildly into my professional life. Thank God she hadn't recognised me.
     "It's 2018, honey, a girl can do a lot with her feet."
     I spluttered. "Like what?"
     "Well, since you asked, some guys like to lick my feet, some even suck on my toes." She pondered like a teenage girl reliving a fantasy. "And some even like it when I wrap both my feet around their dicks and make them blow their loads all over my feet."
     She stared unashamedly and deeply into my eyes. I gulped audibly.
     She laughed down at me. "I'm just kidding." She slipped her heels off and placed her dainty right foot on my upper thigh and raised her left foot up to my face. I was stunned. I could smell the musk of her foot, and could see the light sheen of the summer heat glossing it with sweat. It looked so delicious. This Goddess was so perfect. I reached up for her foot, and she pulled back slightly, toying with me. I grimaced, and then she finally let me touch her perfect feet.
     I began to knead them looking for tenderness. I couldn't fault them. They were beautiful. I began to fantasise about licking them, smelling them, even sucking on her freshly painted toes.
     She moaned as I massaged her feet. My cock began to grow in my pants, tenting uncomfortably. I massaged more vigorously and elicited more near-orgasmic sounds.
     She looked down at me, our eyes met. "You look kind of familiar."
     I panicked. "Oh, no, I've just got one of those faces." I shrugged.
     "No, I definitely know you from somewhere." And then her face lit up. "Oh my God! You're that sick fuck whose nads I scrambled."
     I went to stand and extricate myself, but she placed her left foot on my shoulder and pushed me back down hard. With her legs so tantalisingly spread across me, I could now see her lace red panties and the outline of her lips, teasing me as though I could ever be worth sliding inside.
     "It's totally okay," she assured me. "I won't tell anyone."
     I breathed a sigh of relief.
     "How are they hanging though? I mean, I sure did a number on them. I was thinking about them all night after you drove away. After I nearly stuck my nails all the way through, all I could think was "no more babies for you."" She laughed, mocking me cruelly.
     "Don't worry about it. My housemate already sterilised me. They're still pretty sore to be honest."
     "Wow, really? I must have gotten carried away." Her left foot traced its way down my chest to my groin. She began drawing circles with her big toe around my crotch, then roughly jutted her foot firmly up between my legs. I coughed hard.
     "Whoops," she feigned remorse. "Still a bit sensitive down there it seems. Although that is a very hard cock you have there. How very unprofessional of you. I think I'm going to need you to make it up to me."
     She raised her right foot up to my mouth.
     "Kiss it." She pressed her toes up to my lips and I kissed them feverishly. I wanted to worship every inch of her so badly. "Now stick out your tongue." I complied so willingly as she ran the sole of her foot up and down my tongue. "God, you're so easy. Open wide." She jammed her toes deep into my mouth and I sucked down on them, savouring the salty, sweat from her feet.
     "I don't even care about this appointment anymore. I think I'll enjoy making you cum in your pants even more. Then you'll have to walk around all day knowing that I made you ruin yourself."
     I moaned. Still seated before me like the Queen she was, she drew her left foot back under the chair and then freight-trained it up between my legs, leaving it firmly in my mangled groin. I choked, but kept at her feet, not wanting to lose a moment. Then she drew her beautifully tanned and toned leg back and hurtled it forward once again, damaging the last of my manhood irreparably. I began to keen as she assaulted me over and over, jamming the top of her petite foot into my organs. I was in agony, but the most beautiful kind.
     And then like a faucet, I came into my pants. It was pure unadulterated ecstasy. I collapsed forward into her lap, my mouth pressed firmly against her pussy. Her legs wrapped around me, she pulled her underwear to the side. "What are you waiting for?" I made sure to please her. She reached down and grabbed me by the hair, grinding my face until she rode the last wave of her orgasm. She sighed, utterly spent. I nursed my battered crotch, as I lay my head in her lap, she stroked my face.
     And then she abruptly shoved me off her and onto the ground. Just another display of how disposable I was to her. She was so adept at dominating me. I wanted to please her so badly in every conceivable way. "So what should I do about my aching feet?"
     In a higher pitch than usual, I said as I lay on my back, "I'll give you some anti-inflammatories and then try to stay off them for a couple of days."
     "Okay, that sounds good. And what are you going to do about your balls?" She said as she slipped her heels back on.
     "Probably ice them when I get home."
     She stood up in front of me, menacingly hovering between my legs.
     "Well, if you're going to ice them anyway-"
     She drew her leg back gracefully and powered her full stride with the weight of her tiny but sumptuous frame, bringing her heel-clad foot thundering into my vulnerable and exposed groin.
     A solid *CRUNCH* emanated from my groin as my world exploded into sheer agony. I writhed in mind-numbing pain. My abdomen screamed out from the damage her petite foot had wrought.
     She squatted down to slip her hand into my pocket. She retrieved my wallet and this time took my credit card. "I'll be keeping this. And I'll be seeing you next week." She walked around to where her feet were placed victoriously before my face, as I struggled, almost catatonic, not to vomit.
     She tapped her foot impatiently. "Now kiss the foot that just ruined your sex life." Through the pained haze I leaned forward and tenderly kissed her foot. "Good boy," she smirked. "Very good boy."
     She left me to dwell in my pain.

Ballbusting Hooker

There is something about finding a beautiful woman, who moments earlier was a complete stranger, and handing over your most vulnerable possessions in the world for her personal stress relief. Even sexier if she doesn't mind causing a little bit of permanent damage.

She sauntered over to the car window and leaned down to my eye level. Allowing me an ample view of her cleavage in a tight red dress. "Hey honey," she started in a sultry tone. "My name's Clare, after a good time?" She looked at the tenting crotch of my pants knowingly.
     "Yeah, I am," I managed, swallowing hard.
     She gestured to my swollen member with her hand still intertwined with her cigarette. "Sure looks like you are. What are you after?"
     "This might sound a little strange, but-"
     "Baby, ain't no need to be embarrassed. I've seen and done just about everything. Now what do you want?"
     I paused. "I want you to hurt me. Hurt my balls."
     She paused for a moment. I thought she was disgusted. I prepared myself for rejection. "You want anything else from me or is that it?"
     I sighed a breath of relief. "That's all I want."
     She gave me a hard stare, figuring out what kind of man I was, and she'd seen plenty of different kinds for a girl so young.
     "You a submissive type or something?"
     "I like to be dominated." I breathed.
     She got a cheeky look on her face, lifting her cigarette to her pouty black-painted lips and dragged hard. She removed the cigarette and exhaled her smoke in my face. I coughed. "Mmmhmmm," she moaned.
     She threw her cigarette butt to the ground and ground it out under her Doc Martens heel.
     "Unzip." she ordered quite curtly.
     I undid my fly as she reached her right hand inside the car window down to my crotch. She snaked her delicate fingers around my rigid cock, which was still throbbing in anticipation, to my scrotum and grabbed me up completely in her hand.
     I moaned, grabbing a hold of the steering wheel, bracing myself for what would come next.
     Then she began to squeeze. Her warm, soft feminine hand deftly destroying my world. Shrinking my whole existence down to a pinpoint thought of self-preservation. I gave myself over to the feeling and rode the wave of pain as she began to squeeze tighter and tighter.
     I began to wail a soft high pitch sound, my head leaned forward, my forehead pressing against the steering wheel for support. I was collapsing around her hand.
     She placed her left hand around the back of my neck. It was motherly, soothing even.
     "Want me to squeeze harder, sweetie?"
     I nodded through the pain.
     "Okay, but remember I asked when you can't walk straight."
     She clamped down hard. It was a sharp, blinding pain. I keened like a beaten animal.
     She leaned into my face, her lips almost against my ear, her breath hot and moist whispering, "I'm only getting started, you little bitch." I shuddered.
     She began twisting and turning her wrist, mangling my balls in her small delicate hand.
     She whispered again, "Looks like no babies for you... You're barely going to even be a man after this... I wonder if you'll even be able to get that tiny dick hard. You think I should just crush them?"
     "No! Please!" I squealed through the pain.
     "Oh no, does little baby have an owie?" She cooed. "Too bad, because mommy's going to give you a vasectomy on the house. You ever had a girl dig her nails in real good?"
     "No." I barely managed.
     "Well, you're about to. Lets see if I can pop one."
     Then she dug her nails in. I was instantly transformed into a silent, frozen mess. Focussed only on the pain, I couldn't move. She continued to maul me for another 10 seconds, crackling sounds emanated from my balls.
     "Oooo... I think I broke them." She cooed.
     More crunching noises echoed through my brain as she continued to deliver a very thorough vasectomy.
     She finished me off by drawing a big, slow circle with my balls, pulling them aggressively away from my body. I followed her every movement, completely under her control. Her big finale came as she pulled her hand sharply upward, my body following her every move, raising off the seat. She leaned backward, using the weight of her tiny frame to completely destroy me.
     Then suddenly she let go. I collapsed back into the seat, thoroughly defeated. I moaned, aching fiercely through my abdomen. I felt like throwing up.
     She let me recover briefly.
     "Wow, your nuts can take quite a beating."
     "Thank you," I breathed.
     She reached into my jacket pocket and took my wallet from me.
     She took all the cash I had, approximately $500, and slipped it into her bra. She threw the empty wallet down into my crotch, the edge connecting sharply with my massacred nuts. I yelped.
     "Cute," she chirped. "Now open your mouth." I complied. She pushed her hair back from her face and spat violently into my mouth. It was beautiful and warm.
      "Does that taste good, baby?" she pouted. I nodded through the pain. Let's make this a regular thing, shall we? Bye for now, lover." She looked me over once more before patting my mangled crotch twice playfully, and turning to saunter away, swaying her hips sexily from side to side.

Relationship Goals: A Vignette

The things I would give to have my balls mangled
beyond repair by a woman like this...

     Tracey's buxom mother walked in on me lying on our bed, jerking my cock furiously into an old, sweaty gym sock of hers.
     "You dirty, little boy," she smirked as she walked over to me. "Sometimes I forget how horny men 30 years younger than me can be. There will be none of that while I'm using that cock. That cum belongs to me. You need to be punished."
     "But Tracey let me jerk into her socks all the time!"
     "Well then," she began. Swatting my hands away from my throbbing cock, cupping my balls with her delicate feminine left hand. "I guess I should make clear-" She balled up her right hand into a fist.
     "I'm." *crunch* "Not." *crackle* "My." *snap* "Daughter."
     She left her right hand buried deep into my balls and ground it into her palm, trying to meet her hands through my delicate meat. I was keening a high-pitched squeal. Inconsolable.
     "That should teach you, boy." She let go of my balls and I collapsed into myself.
     She pulled up her skirt and raised a bent leg up onto the bed. She placed her delicate, feminine foot onto my balls and leaned into me, bringing her face close to mine. I cried out in anguish as her soft sole crushed my very being. I arched my back, rigid with pain.
     "Open your mouth," she snapped. I complied, overcome by the pain in my precious organs.
     She spat into my mouth, I tasted her before swallowing hungrily.
     "Thank you," I whined. She ground her foot back and forth like she was putting out a cigarette.

Honeymoon Heartbreak

Nothing more dangerous for a pair of balls than being married
to a woman that has no use for functioning sperm.

     Tracey gripped my shoulders and jammed her knee firmly into my testicles.

     "I thought you'd take it badly," I moaned, the wind rushing from my lungs. Finding myself wedged between two generations of ballbusting women, I turned to my newly-wed wife for support after this testicle-crushing blow. "I think this would come better from y-"

     My beautiful wife, more than 30 years my senior, thrust her bony knee fiercely up to where her daughter's had just inflicted its damage.

     "Only I may touch them now," she scolded firmly.

     "Sorry," I gasped, half-bent, clutching my knees.

     "I was busting his nuts long before you showed up, mom!" yelled Tracey, viciously hurtling her toenails into my tender nutmeat from behind, very firmly making her point. Her freshly pedicured nails dug deep into my organs. I wailed in a high pitch as I sank down to my knees. "I can't believe you went to the Courthouse and just got married to my mother!"

     "In my defense," I coughed. "She had her nails sunk into my balls when I signed the papers."

     Tracey's mother looked quite pleased with herself as she examined her manicured nails, pouting ever so slightly, thinking of the amused look on the female courthouse clerk's face as she dug her nails in deeper and deeper.

     Tracey shouted down at my deflated state. "Jesus! What were you even worried about your balls for?! It's not like they work anymore, my stilettos already made sure of that!"
     I decided to change the topic to avoid more agony. "That kick hurt more than usual," I coughed.
     "Oh! I'm growing out my toenails. I just got a pedi! Don't they look wonderful."
     While I still faced away from her on my knees, Tracey jammed the top of her foot into my balls, this time leaving it wedged there so I could take the time to examine her delicious toes as they appeared between my legs from behind.
     "Beautiful..." I keened as my abdomen exploded in sweet pain.

     "I'd thank you kindly to stop busting your step-father's balls. That will be my job from now on," chimed my wife.

     "You're old enough to be his mother!"

     "He doesn't seem to mind, I think he even likes it. He didn't have any problem cumming all over my feet this morning either. Must be some latent fantasy, practically Oedipal," she winked at her daughter.

     "I'd say it was the wrinkles, that comes with age," she chided her mother. "So you're still giving footjobs? Typical. I remember when you'd give them out like candy to all the boys I brought home."

     "When you have a gift, dear, it's best shared. Although, if I recall correctly, all those boys needed was a little graze of my toes and they'd spurt all over their shorts. I do miss how pent up teenage boys get."

     "I liked those boys!"
     "Not enough to give them a little rub. You knew all those boys were infatuated with your feet, the least you could have done was given them a little gas pedal. You were too busy getting them to buy you things and do your homework, I hated seeing them go home with their achey blue balls. So cruel."
     Tracey pouted sourly, but then sensed a chance to get back at her mother, "Well," Tracey purred, and bent down to my ear. Her warm breath was orgasmic. She wrapped her arms around my chest from behind, pressing her breasts against my back, snaking her toned bare leg around my torso, her foot crept down, resting heavily between my legs, rubbing her sole against my swelling member. "You should really stop making so many decisions with your little ballsies," she cooed. "Look what that gets you... Daddy." I moaned involuntarily.

     She raised her leg vertically into the air, using her yoga flexibility and then slammed her foot down in a graceful arch into my agonising mess of a crotch. Over and over, she raised her foot up and brought it down, crunching methodically. I was delirious from the pain.

     My wife rolled her eyes. "Are you just about done?"

     "Almost," she breathed heavily, exasperated from the punishment she was dishing out. She began to make heaving, orgasmic noises with each thrust as I wailed uncontrollably. Her hand came up, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing, keeping my head up and prolonging my abuse. With one final heavy slam of her heel, the repetitive motion, heat from her body and cruel abuse of my nads, I jettisoned a huge load of cum inside my pants. An enormous wet patch showed my state of defeat to my new wife. Tracey released me from her grip, allowing me to crumble to the kitchen floor, a beaten puddle of a man. "I think I just about emptied his balls. Now, good luck getting his dick hard, mummy. Happy Honeymoon," she beamed sarcastically before storming out.

     "Tut tut," Tracey's mother mused. "Silly girl." She kicked me in the chest until I was splayed out across the floor on my back. "Open your mouth," she ordered. I complied. She sashayed over to me, lifting her skirt and shifting her panties to the side. She placed a foot on either side of my face and squatted down, facing my groin, until her perfect pussy lips smothered my nose and mouth.

      "Now," she chided, grabbing my swollen testicles in her fist. "Lets get that tongue moving, shall we?" She squeezed cruelly.
      I screamed, weakened and at her mercy, wildly working my tongue all over her pussy. At that moment Nikki walked in the back door, covered in a thick sheen of sweat fresh from a run. She took out her headphones and examined the scene.
     "Hello, Nikki," my wife moaned, not the least ashamed of her state.
     "Well, he was never good for much else," she breathed heavily, still catching her breath. "Allow me."
     She walked over to us, kicking my legs apart. My wife briefly removed her hands from my mangled nuts in order for Nikki to begin her sneakered assault on my reproductive organs, I thrashed and screamed in agony as swing after swing of her sneaker-clad foot pummelled my organs.
     "Clever... Girl," cooed my wife as she began to cream down my face.
     "My pleasure," huffed Nikki. "Anything to make things square with the ex. Although they look like more of a puddle than a square at this point."
     My wife's orgasm subsided, but she remained sitting on my face. She pulled a cigarette from a pack she had hidden in her blouse, lit it and inhaled deeply. "Want a turn?" She smiled up at Nikki as she flicked ash onto my crotch. I yelped but was muffled by her mound.
     She lifted off me gingerly, my face was still covered in her cream. She stood and inhaled her cigarette deeply, surveying the fruits of her labour.
     "Please no more, mommy," I whimpered.
     My wife took a moment of pause, "I knew it was Oedipal." She leaned down and scooped up my ankles in her grip and raised my legs into a V. "Mommy's very angry at you for cumming for Tracey, and little Danny needs to pay." Nikki lowered her running shorts and manoeuvred her sweaty crotch over and down onto my face. Nikki began riding my mouth as my wife thrust her high heel viciously down into my testicles again and again.