My Poor Balls: Monday, Welcome Home (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.

Chapter 40: Monday, Welcome Home (Kicking) I stepped inside the door, stripped from the waist down, and knelt immediately, knees wide, balls thrust out for our daily ritual.

The second she stepped out barefoot in her work skirt and smiled, my stomach dropped. My balls were still sore from yesterday, and I knew exactly how bad this was going to get. God, I love her.

“Thirty-nine kicks today,” she said sweetly. “Are you ready?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded.

The first twelve kicks were brutal. Each one slammed into my tender balls and sent deep, aching nausea rolling through my gut. By the time she drew her bare foot way back for thirteen, I was already shaking, struggling to hold position.

As she finished her backswing, the back of her heel clipped the dining chair — barely a bump. She froze, eyes wide with that fake outrage she loves.

“Oh my god,” she said, voice dripping venom. “These balls just made me bump my heel on the chair. I actually felt that.”

She crouched, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up at her. “I can’t believe the balls did that. They broke one of our rules. Say the rule.”

My balls were throbbing so hard I could barely speak. The words rasped out. “We always play fair.”

“Louder.”

“We always play fair!”

She beamed. “Good boy. You said it perfectly.” Then her voice turned disapproving. “I can’t believe the balls broke the rules by trying to hurt my foot. What do you have to say about that?”

The unfairness was absurd, but that’s our game and I know my role. “You’re right. It was very unfair of the balls to make you almost hurt your foot.”

“I love how much you care about me,” she replied, sweet and poisonous. “So… should we just continue? Or should we punish the balls for breaking our rules?”

I knew what she wanted to hear, even as my stomach twisted in fear. “We should punish the balls.”

Her face lit up with pure delight. “That’s a good husband.”

She pulled the hair tie from her ponytail and held it out to me. “You know what to do.”

My hands shook as I took the elastic. The moment I looped it around my sack, I knew the swelling was going to make the second wrap brutal. I twisted it, lined up one ball, and painfully forced it through the second loop. Then, with another deep breath, I squeezed the swollen second ball through. My balls bulged out, skin stretching tight, turning darker instantly.

She watched the whole thing, practically glowing. “Perfect. Now they’re nice and helpless.”

She stood up, flexed her bare foot, and cocked it back. “From the top. Every kick is going to hurt so much worse now, because of what the balls made me do. Start counting.”

The first kick after the tie landed like a sledgehammer. My bound balls had nowhere to go — they just absorbed every ounce of it. The pain detonated deep in my gut, hot and nauseating.

“One!” I screamed, voice cracking.

“Two! … Three!”

Each impact got exponentially worse. The tight hair tie made my balls swell and throb harder with every kick. By fifteen I was sobbing between numbers, legs shaking so badly I could barely stay upright.

“Seventeen!”

Her foot slammed in with vicious force. The bound sack flattened brutally against my pelvis. The pain exploded so hard my legs gave out. I collapsed sideways, curling around my swollen, purple balls, dry-heaving violently while my stomach tried to empty itself of nothing.

She didn’t even pause. She simply stepped over my thrashing body, walked into the kitchen, and came back with a tall glass of iced tea. She stood there sipping it casually while I gasped and shuddered on the floor.

Once I found my breath, I praised her. “Good thinking, getting a drink. We don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

“I know!” she exclaimed, then nudged my shoulder with her bare foot. “Back on your knees. We still have twenty-two left.”

Somehow I dragged myself back up, every tiny movement pure agony because of the hair tie. She took another slow, relaxed sip, then set the glass down.

She launched a brutal kick, making my world briefly fade.

“Eighteen,” I counted.

The next kick was even harder. I screamed the number, fighting to stay upright while my bound balls throbbed like they were about to burst.

Every few kicks she’d pause, pick up her glass, take a long sip while I suffered, then set it down and keep going.

“Twenty-one… Twenty-two…”

Sip.

“Twenty-five…”

Sip.

By thirty I was a complete wreck — sobbing, barely able to count, barely able to stay on my knees. She took a long, leisurely sip, watching me tremble.

“You’re so cute when you try,” she observed, then launched another reality-bending kick into my vulnerable nutsac.

“Thirty-one,” I counted.

The next one folded me instantly. I dropped hard, curling into a ball, dry-heaving so violently I thought I might pass out. She just waited patiently, sipping her tea until I clawed my way back to my knees.

“Thirty-two…” kick. “Thirty-three…” kick. “Thirty-four…”

Sip. Then a devastating kick collided with my balls, driving them into my torso.

“Thirty-five.”

My balls were so swollen and dark they looked ready to split. Every impact now felt like my insides were being crushed. Only four more, I thought, before the next kick removed my ability to think.

“Thirty-six… Thirty-seven…”

Sip.

“Thirty-eight.”

I was crying openly now, voice more of a sob than words.

She drained the last of her glass in one slow sip, set it aside, and smiled down at me. Then she swung her foot one more time into my trapped testicles.

“Thirty-nine,” I forced out before the pain arrived.

The final kick was the worst of the day — a full-power strike that actually lifted me slightly off my knees. I collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the floor, sobbing and gasping.

She crouched beside me, gently stroking my hair. “Good boy. The balls learned their lesson about not playing fair.” She gave my tightly bound sack a light, possessive pat. “Look how beautifully swollen and purple they are… we really hurt the balls real good tonight.”

She stood, smoothing her skirt, then walked over to the dining-room chair she had bumped into earlier. She sat down with a satisfied sigh. “And you know what that means,” she said, already sliding her panties down her thighs. “It’s time to celebrate. Does an orgasm for me seem like a good celebration?”

Sobbing on the floor, I mustered my breath. “Yes.”

She spread her legs, skirt hiked up around her waist, and looked down at me with that warm, hungry smile. “Lick me until I cum, sweetheart.”

I did as she asked. She was already very excited, and despite my exhaustion and being barely able to kneel, I quickly got her to cum hard. She grabbed the back of my head, grinding against my face as she did.

Satisfied, she collapsed back in the chair to rest. I took the opportunity to very gingerly remove the hair tie. New waves of pain erupted from my swollen balls as I slid it off.

My wife watched me. Once I was done, she held out a cupped hand, glanced at me, then at my balls, then back to her hand.

I knew what she wanted. I stood up unsteadily, and with a massive force of will I walked toward her until my brutalized orbs settled into her hand.

“I love you,” I said dutifully.

“I love you too,” she replied pleasantly as her fingers closed like a vice on my balls. She stood up, dragging me with her, crushing them even tighter, then repeated, “I love you so much,” before mercifully releasing my testicles and letting me crumple to the floor.

She stood over me, glowing. “I’ll go make dinner. Give the balls a nice rest tonight—we might not be so gentle with them tomorrow.”

She turned and walked away as I admired my goddess.

Chapter 1 and 2 (Kicking and electrical play) Chapter 3 (Kicking and licking) Chapter 4 and 5 (Kicking and crushing in a vice) Chapter 6 (Hammering and sex) Chapter 7 (Execution style weight play and licking) Chapter 8 (Caning in stocks) Chapter 9 (Kicking) Chapter 10 (Crushing) Chapter 11 (Kicking) Chapter 12 (Hammering) Chapter 13 (Cattle Prod) Chapter 14 (Kicking) Chapter 15 (Leashed pulling, Kicking) Chapter 16 (Kicking, Shocking) Chapter 17 (Kicking, Caning) Chapter 18 (Cock Burning) Chapter 19 (Caning) Chapter 20 (Caning, Kicking, Taser) Chapter 21 (Cock Torture, Ball Kicks) Chapter 22 (Testicle Vice) Chapter 23 (Kicking) Chapter 24 (Kicking) Chapter 25 (Punching, Cattle Prod) Chapter 26 (Needles) Chapter 27 (Ballbusting, Humiliation) Chapter 28 (Whipping, Caning, Cattle Prod) Chapter 29 (Variety of Escalating Torture) Chapter 30 (Kicking) Chapter 31 (Kicking) Chapter 32 (Beating) Chapter 33 (Recovery) Chapter 34 (Leashed pulling, Kicking, Punching) Chapter 35 (Hairbrush beating) Chapter 36 (Kicking) Chapter 37 (Cattle Prod) Chapter 38 (Punching, Vise, Needle, TENS) Chapter 39 (Post-Orgasm Squeezing) Author's Note: My document that I use to store my drafts currently has 56 chapters, and 280 pages of content for this story. It's a pretty significant accomplishment. I hope you are enjoying it, and that I can continue adding chapters.

I love feedback, and would appreciate hearing your thoughts, and suggestions.