Bondage, Balls, Pain and Pleasure

By: David Andrew
(© 2008 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 8

You probably don’t remember it, but there was one ad in the NY Bondage Club listing that I had tried to get in touch with several times without success. His name was Vincent, and he sounded very interesting. I’m not sure why I kept the phone number, but I did. One night in NYC I was at a loose end and just on the off chance I called the number again. In the past the phone just rang and rang, no answering machine, no way to leave a message. So this time I was surprised to hear a voice on an answering machine. It might have been around six when I called and I left a message telling him where I’d found his number, giving him the number of the hotel and room number and said I’d be in the room until about seven-thirty. By seven-thirty I’d showered and changed, there’d been no response to my call so I decided to go out to the bar where the crews tended to hang out (boring, boring!). Just before eight I was actually at the door on my way out when the phone rang. By this time I’d pretty much forgotten the message I’d left on Vincent’s machine and I assumed that it was one of the crew members calling.

“David?” a voice asked. I was taken aback, I was expecting it to be a crew member, but the soft voice had an American accent. Suddenly my heart rate soared.

“Yes...” I said.

“I’m glad I caught you, only just got home and thought I’d give it a try.” Well for nearly two hours we talked, the longest phone conversation I’ve ever had. There was something about his soft-spoken voice that put me completely at ease. I told him all about myself, my job, that I was married, bi-sexual, that I wanted cock and ball torture, everything. He seemed to be very interested too which was encouraging.

“Well,” he said at length, “it’s ten o’clock, I guess it’s too late to do anything tonight. When will you be back.”

“It’s no too late for me...” I said just hoping that he’d agree.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Oh yes...I’m certain,” I said.

“So how long would it take you to get here?” His apartment was on East 71st, the hotel was on 57th. No distance at all.

“There are always taxis at the hotel, I could be there in ten minutes,” I said.

“That sounds good, now here’s what I want you to do... Buzz from the front door, I’ll let you in. Take the elevator to the 7th floor, apartment 7D. The door will unlocked. Come into the lobby, strip and then put on the things that I’ll leave in the lobby. When you’ve done that kneel with your legs wide apart facing the front door, clasp your hands behind you head and wait.”

Wow! I could hardly believe my ears. I had tried to contact him so many times, and when he didn’t reply to my message before seven-thirty I’d really written him off, probably would never have tried again. If he’d called even a few seconds later I’d have missed his call, but now, out of the blue, I was going to put my balls on the line again! On the way down to the lobby I tried to go over all that I’d told him wondering if I’d made myself clear. He’d sounded so gentle, I thought of the guys who’d just played with my balls and I wondered if he realized that I really did want them to take a beating. In the lobby by the front door was a bank of pay phones. On impulse I called Vincent again.

“You do know that I really want this to hurt?” I asked when he answered.

“Well I sure do now, and I promise it will!” he replied. I had a large bulge in the from of my pants as I  hurried out to grab a cab for the short journey.

Ten minutes from the time I put the phone down I was standing outside his apartment building on West 71st Street. The bulge in my pants had subsided, my heart rate had increased. I pressed his apartment bell, the was a loud buzz, I pushed the door and walked in. The elevator was to my left, got in, pushed 7. I thought about the phone call I’d impulsively made, my proud erection had gone, my cock was almost an internal organ! On the 7th floor I looked around. All the doors looked the same, but one wasn’t quite closed. I stepped into the lobby, not very big, maybe eight by ten, very dimly lit. Persian rug covering most of the floor. There were two open doors, one leading to the kitchen, the other to a lounge. From the lounge I could hear the soundtrack of a S&M video, a lot of slapping, grunting and gasping! On a small table I saw the things I was to put on: a magnificent slave collar about three inches wide, covered in chrome studs: a black leather eye mask and two pairs of black leather cuffs, one pair for my ankles, the other for my wrists. As I stripped off I was desperately aware of the fact that my cock was unimpressive to say the least. Once I was naked I fastened the collar around my neck. I caught sight of myself in a mirror, I know it sounds narcissistic, but it looked hot, so hot that my cock pumped up hard in seconds. I knelt on the carpet facing the door, knees spread wide, pulled the blind over my eyes, and waited. An eternity passed, not in silence because the beating on the video tape was still going strong.

As I knelt there I strained to hear a creak, a rustle, or anything that would tell me that Vincent was close. Nothing. Then a hand came up from below and behind and closed tightly around my balls! I’m sure I lifted clear of the carpet. The hand rolled my balls around inside the sac, squeezing them, not too hard, but hard enough to make me gasp quietly. I knew that Vincent was going to make this good. It was months since I’d been put to the test so it hurt beautifully, but I managed to hang loose and let him have them.

“Good boy...” he said very quietly after he’d given them an initial workout, “Good boy...” Then he took my wrists and moved them down behind my back. I felt the cold steel, heard the double click and I was at his mercy. I can’t tell you how good it felt. I’d never met the man, never even seen him, and now my testicles, the most private and tender part of my body, were at his mercy.

Vincent moved around from behind my back to stand in front of me. Of course since I was blindfolded I still couldn’t see him, but I could now smell his body, a clean smell, very manly smell, and I could tell from the way my breath was reflected back into my face that his crotch was very close to my face. I leaned forward, less than an inch, and my nose brushed against the side of his jockstrap. Vincent murmured approvingly and leant forward pressing his pouch against my face. I could feel his penis straining against the material, I could feel the movement of his testicles inside his sac. For a few moments both of us moved slightly, his crotch rubbing against my face, then he murmured, “Take them out.”

With my hands secured behind my back there was only one way to obey. I tried to get at the edge of the pouch with my teeth by nuzzling my nose between his sac and his thigh. Tried again and again but it didn’t work, his cock was straining so hard against the jockstrap that I couldn’t pull it far enough to let the contents spill out. At length I tried pulling down the top of the strap. That worked almost immediately as his cock burst free and I was able to drag the pouch down far enough to free his balls too. They were big ones, as big as any I have ever handled or seen.

“Suck on them,” he said. I obeyed. I managed to get his left one into my mouth and rolled it around with my tongue. “Take the other one.” He was still speaking very quietly, I could only just hear him above the sounds of the beating coming from the television. I let the left testicle slip out of my mouth and moved me head around to get at the right one. “No,” he said, “take both of them.” I’d got the right one in so now I tried to suck up the left one again. I tried every which way, couldn’t get my mouth open wide enough to fit it in. I struggled for a while, it wasn’t easy trying to keep my balance as I bent forward to trap the second big testicle so that I could get it into my mouth and I was afraid that I might hurt him. I wanted pain in my balls, but I assumed that he didn’t so I was trying not to cause pain. Soon my jaws were aching.

“Sir, I can’t get them both in...they’re too big.” A moment later I jolted as Vincent leaned right over me and stung my ass with a paddle. It really hurt; I went back to work on his balls determined to get them both no matter that it hurt him or not. I did get them both, but my mouth was so full that my cheeks were bulging, my teeth pressing on the testicles, I must have looked like a squirrel with a week’s supply of nuts in its mouth.

“Now boy, suck hard!” I was surprised, he obviously did want pain too. I sucked hard. “Harder boy! Don’t play with them!” I bent forward dragging them down between his legs and biting into the soft flesh as I did it. It must have been very painful, but what he said next was the most surprising thing so far. “Don’t let go! You hear?” I moved my head to signify that I’d heard. With that he pulled away from me. I tried to keep hold of his balls, clamped my teeth down on them, but eventually he succeeded in dragging them from my mouth. “Boy,” he said, “that’s what I’m going to teach you to take!”

“Yes Sir,” I said. “I need to be trained Sir. Thank you Sir.” Looking back on this later I realized that Vincent wanted to show me that he’d taken pain too so he knew how far he could go, and how far I should be able to go too.

“Stand up boy” he said. I struggled to get up from the kneeling position, it wasn’t easy. Once I was standing he spread my legs about a foot apart, then attached a bar to the ankle cuffs to keep the apart. “Come...this way.” With my ankles attached to the bar I could only shuffle along, but with a hand on each shoulder he guided me into what I knew was the kitchen. He stopped right behind a chair, one of those kitchen chairs that have a back formed by two pieces of bent wood about an inch in diameter, I’m sure you must have seen them. He pulled my balls over the top rail then used a cord to tie them tightly so that they were on top of the wood. It felt so good to have my balls way out front and so exposed. My cock of course was sticking up almost vertically, my hands still cuffed behind my back. My right nut took the first hit, a solid thump with a fairly heavy object. The blow came down from above, hit the top and of course thumped the testicle down on to the rail which produced twice the pain. The pain was still flooding up into my guts when my left testicle took a hit. God it was good! Again and again he hit them, each hit bringing a double shot of pain. Five or six hits and I was through the pain barrier.

“Thank you Sir... Oh God Sir that’s so good Sir. Please Sir hit them harder Sir Thank you Sir,” I pleaded. I could feel the pre-cum streaming down the shaft of my penis, lubricating my balls and making them slippery against the wood of the chair. I could have cum with just a few more hits, I guess Vincent could see it and didn’t want me to cum yet. When he released me form the chair I felt disappointed, but I knew there was more to come.

He now guided me into the doorway between the lobby and the lounge, a double width doorway. He released my arms from behind my back, lifted them over my head and reattached the cuffs to each other with a short piece of chain. He then clipped the chain to a ring-bolt set in the center of the door frame. He told me to spread my legs, and then attached each to a short length of chain which was secured to the bottom of the frame at each side. I felt his hands on my balls, expected pain, but it didn’t come. He fixed them into a parachute. It was a real tight fit, but the soft inner lining made it really comfortable. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but the parachute had a length of cord to which was attached a leather bag of lead shot.

“I’ll start with five pounds then see how it goes,” he said. Five pounds didn’t seem like a problem to me, not after what I’d taken in the past. I felt the drag of the weight, no big deal. “Now swing it” he ordered. Using my hips I got the weight swinging backwards and forwards between my legs. It felt good, a little bit of a strain on the cords produced a pleasant ache, nothing worse. “Higher!” he ordered. I put more effort into it, now I could feel the pull alright. “Get it up! I want it up to the horizontal! Back and front!” I tried harder, but horizontal? The stinging crack of a paddle on my butt made me jolt. When I jolted the weight went haywire. It swung down hitting my leg and then careened off at an angle which wrenched hard at my balls. “Keep it swinging! Get it up! Get it going again!” He paddled my ass vigorously as I struggled to get the weight swinging again. The stinging cracks of the paddle kept the load dancing in all directions. “Well if the paddle isn’t enough to get your attention perhaps this will...” With that he jabbed at my trapped testicles with a heavy, blunt object. This I later discovered was like a short pool cue, three feet long, one end rounded the other more pointed but not too sharp. If the paddling had been hard to take this jab into the soft meat of my testicles produced real pain. They couldn’t escape, couldn’t even move inside the parachute, and the weight flew all over the place. Eventually I did manage to get it swinging again in spite of the distracting jabs, but now as I got it up near horizontal there was a new source of pain. At the top of its swing, both back and front, the weight tended to curl over and get pulled in closer to my body. This meant that the cord went slack, but only momentarily. The weight fell vertically until its fall was stopped by the cord snapping taught, the jerk on my testicles was agony. For a while I was in real trouble, then once again I got through the pain barrier. I was not only able to swing it up to the horizontal and take the jerk, I even pulled the swing so that the weight could fall further and make to pain even worse, only by this time it wasn’t pain, each jerk on my balls got me hotter and higher. When Vincent saw this he started to jab at my balls on each swing, first with the blunt end of the cue and then when he saw that I was taking it well he switched to the sharper end. Needless to say I spurted a load of very jellied jism on to his floor. I was sorry, I really didn’t want to cum like that.

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he said as he stopped the swinging weight. “I’m not through with your balls, not by a long way.” Any time that I’d come twice in the past I’d always needed a period of rest to recuperate before I could get wound up again. This time, for the first time ever, I just wanted more sex, more pain, right now.

Vincent unhitched my arms and legs from the door frame and guided me through the apartment. He maneuvered me until I felt something soft against my legs. “Climb up,” he said. “I want you face down.” I was on a big bed, and as I expected there were chains in place in each corner. As he attached my ankles I realized that he was either going to whip me, or fuck me, or maybe both. At that moment I was so hot I wouldn’t have minded being fucked, not in the least. However, if he was going to whip me I wanted my cock to be in play too, so before he secured my wrists I reached down under my body and pushed it down between my legs, down where a whip or cat would be able to sting it, not easy when it is as stiff as a broom handle. Vincent obviously noticed what I’d done because after securing both wrists he leaned down and lightly kissed my buns.

“Thank you for doing that,” he said quietly. “When I kiss you like that you know you’ve done something that especially pleases me.” It made me feel real good to know that he’d noticed, and appreciated what I’d done. He started with a cat, a big, heavy, plaited one. At the first stroke I lifted my hips up as high as I could to give him the best shot at both my ass and my genitals. He raked my buns, then whipped all the way up my back. I was straining to get my butt higher, inviting, enticing him to whip my cock and balls. He saw what I needed and switched to the genitals. I thank him profusely with each stroke and very soon it felt as though my sac had been shredded, my cock skinned! When he switched to the whip I was so hot I just kept begging him to hit harder and harder. There was a little knot at the tip of the whip, it found my little, pink, puckered hole. I immediately re-doubled my efforts to spread my cheeks wide so that he could get it on every stroke. Pretty soon the pucker wasn’t pink any more. He also stung the tip of my cock with the knot, absolutely delightful!

After a thorough whipping I was released and told to turn over. This I knew was going to be the finale and I wanted it to be very good for Vincent. He spread-eagled me again and left me lying quietly for a few minutes. I flexed my hips lifting them up, offering Vincent my balls. Something told me that he was watching, in fact he told me so later, and that he wanted my balls as much as I wanted him to torture them. He started with a paddle, not gently the way Paul had done, straight into real pain. I held still for him for a while but then began to struggle which made the pain much worse. I had to get on top of it, really wanted to please Vincent, to take everything he wanted to inflict. Then, somehow, don’t know how it happened, but I managed to relax and the pain turned to pure pleasure again. I was able to hold completely still so that he could strike any part of my scrotum, begged him to hit harder, and thanked him over and over again. It was the same when he switched to a ball press, very difficult at first, then relaxation and delight.

After a while, when my balls were really tender, he put on a stretcher. God that was good! Just having them handled at this stage was so painful, so pleasurable, and this stretcher was wider than any I’d ever had on. I’d like to claim that it was a full six inches but it wasn’t, not anything like that. Maybe you’d believe four inches? In truth it was about three, but I don’t have low hanging balls and it did take quite a while of pulling and pleasure to get it secured. Now, with the testicles really tightly trapped, he went to work on them with the blunt end of the cue. This time I went straight through the barrier, right from the very first hit I knew I could take whatever he wanted to inflict. I was so turned on I arched my back to lift my hips up, I was supporting my body with my heels and my shoulders, my hips well clear of the bed, my balls way out for Vincent to beat. Again I was begging him to hit harder, he could have destroyed them, I’d have happily let him do it. After the longest time, but all too soon, Vincent asked which hand I used to jerk off.

“My right hand Sir,” I said, “bit please don’t stop hitting Sir!”

“I’m not through, I’m going to beat the jism out of your balls.” That sounded so good. He released my right wrist, I lifted my hips again and started to pump on my cock. It felt so swollen, not sore, just much fatter than I’d ever felt it before. As soon as I got into a rhythm the beating resumed. Now he really was hitting hard, my balls, trapped by the stretcher had no place to hide. The second load was actually bigger than the first.

As soon as I’d given him all the juice he stopped the beating. The next thing I felt was an ice cool, wet cloth wiping up the jellied cum, then Vincent released my other limbs. He was right beside my shoulder when he took off the blindfold. He was about sixty I’d say, about five seven tall, grayish hair cut fairly short, heavier than I’d visualized, not fat, just a bit of extra weight, quite hairy too. His cock was just as I’d imagined it, about six inches long, but the crowning glory was the head, big, massive, dark red, like a monstrous mushroom. It was truly magnificent. I leaned over to touch it, I wanted to suck on it but knew that I mustn’t. He winced.

“No...please...I’ve come twice too...something I haven’t done in many years...” That made me feel so good. We lay on the bed together talking. It was just as it had been on the phone, nothing hidden, nothing held back. From everything he said I knew he’d enjoyed the meeting as much as I had and that I’d be back for a lot more pain and pleasure. Eventually I did get to fondle the lovely mushroom head of his cock, still slippery. I ached to take it in my mouth, but that just couldn’t be done in the new climate. I suppose it must have been about one a.m. when I finally left his apartment. I walked back to the hotel, walked on air I might say. I’d found the man who was going to batter my balls and I couldn’t wait for my next trip to the city.

Looking back on the evening, not just a long time later but even at the time, I wasn’t able to decide why I had felt so comfortable with Vincent right from that first telephone call. When he’d first taken hold of my balls as I knelt in his lobby I’d not had the slightest doubt that I would be safe even when I was totally at his mercy. I hadn’t  set eyes on this guy, hadn’t agreed on any safety word or sign, but I knew I wanted him to torture me, and go as far as he wanted to go. It’s strange, I had never been able to slip through the pain barrier as easily as I did on my very first meeting with Vincent. And I wasn’t at his mercy by any means, there were plenty of guys around who’d have known all about it if I’d had a real problem.

To be continued...

Posted: 08/21/09