A Real Ball Buster

September 24, 2007 – 10:00 am

They had discussed his “offense”, as was their custom, and
had negotiated the punishment he would suffer.  He was her
immediate supervisor, in the “real” world, and had made
light of a serious suggestion she had made.  It wouldn’t
have been too bad had he not done it in front of all her
peers, right in the main office.  She felt that made it a
“major” offense.  She wanted to give him a “spanking”
consisting of 300 blows.  He thought that many blows might
result in bruising and argued for 100, instead.  Finally,
they compromised on 200 blows, with a thin wooden paint
stirrer, and she promised to give him a “lovely handjob”,
assuming, of course, he would still be able to get off,
after she was through with his punishment.  He laughed at
the thought that any number of blows from such a light,
stinging instrument could have any effect on his orgasmic
ability, and agreed to the terms.  That was how he found
himself in his present situation.

It was a typical mid-summer afternoon in Southern
California…about eighty degrees, and not a cloud in the
sky.  He was naked, as he always was for one of their
“sessions”.  She had made him strip and had taken him out
onto the covered, completely private patio, just off the
dining room.  She had made him buckle the soft, sturdy
leather cuffs onto his wrists and ankles very snugly, then
had hooked his wrists together with a snap hook through
their attached rings.  Then, using a two-step stool that
was handy, she had raised his arms over his head and
hooked the other end of the snap hook onto a sturdy ring
that was screwed into one of the overhead beams of the
patio cover.  That left him with his arms stretched over
his head, but still able to stand comfortably, with his
feet flat on the patio deck.  Next, she tied lengths of
sturdy clothesline to the rings on his ankle cuffs and
pulled his legs apart as far as she could before tying
them off to tie-downs that were discretely located on the
patio floor.  That left him up on his tiptoes, legs widely
spread, with his arms now very tightly held straight up
over his head.  She raked his chest and belly with her
fingernails and noted, with amusement, that his cock was
starting to “take an interest” in the proceedings.  She
then went inside to “get some more stuff”.

His position was a little uncomfortable, but not
unbearable.  He thought it strange that she had strung him
up like this for a spanking.  He would have thought she
would have tied him in some bent over position, to better
expose his buttocks for the punishment to come.  Once a
session had begun, however, the rules were quite strict. 
He was not able to ask any questions, or to complain in
any way.  He could speak only in response to a direct
question from her and could, of course, make any
“involuntary” noises that her punishments might force out
of him.  The long-ago-negotiated punishment for a breach
of this major rule was so harsh that he would never dream
of a transgression.  He had done so, once, and had found
that half-an-hour tied straddling a one inch thick dowel
rod, suspended between two stepladders, was excruciatingly
painful.  Even though it had done no permanent damage to
that tender spot between his balls and asshole (much to
his amazement), he would never do anything that would
force him to endure that agony, again.

When she returned, she had changed into her typical outfit
for a “session”.  She wore a very brief thong bikini, with
a miniscule halter top, that showed off her trim and
tanned athletic figure to its best advantage.  Her feet
were bare, as always.  She knew her pretty feet turned him
on, and she liked anything that added to the “tease”.  She
had some things in her hand that she placed on a small
table behind him, strategically out of his field of
vision.  Returning to his front, she grasped his cock, now
very erect, in her left hand, and gave it several smooth
strokes from base to crown.  Releasing it, she watched
with amusement as it bobbed up and down, then gave it a
sharp smack with her open palm, right on the sensitive
head.  His genitals were clean shaven, except for a light
dusting of pubic hair just above his cock.  She had
extracted his promise to keep his cock and balls hairless
back when they had first started to play their little
game.  He hadn’t objected too much, particularly after she
pointed out that it made his cock appear even larger than
it already was.  She also insisted that he keep his armpit
and chest hair closely trimmed, another requirement that
caused him no problem.

“Looks like one part of you is definitely ready for some
action,” she was grinning.  “How about the rest of you? 
Are you ready to begin?”

Since it was a direct question, their rules allowed him to
respond.  “Yes.  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”  He wanted
to ask her why he was tied in such a strange position for
a spanking, but resisted a question that was certain to
earn him some serious pain.  Besides, he was pretty
certain he’d get a full explanation from her as she began
to work on him.

“You look pretty good, all stretched out like that.”  She
was right in front of him, squeezing his balls with one
hand, while she stroked his cock with the other.  “It
never fails to amaze me that you will allow me to tie you
up like this, even though you know I’m going to do some
very cruel things to you.  I guess it must have something
to do with the pleasure I always give you, after the pain. 
Your orgasms must be pretty powerful, because they have an
effect on you just like a drug.  Today is a great example
of how your normally sharp thinking process can be
thoroughly dulled just by the prospect of a little sex and
pain cocktail.”  She still hadn’t said anything he could
respond to, so he remained silent, awaiting her pleasure.

“Actually, I was surprised that you agreed to 200 smacks
so easily.  I was hoping to get you to agree to 75, or
100, maybe, but 200…whew!  You probably should have
thought to stipulate where you’re going to be getting
those smacks.  You just assumed, since I was talking about
a spanking, that the punishment would be applied to your
butt, didn’t you?”  She was enjoying the expression on his
face tremendously.  It was apparent that a small light was
beginning to come on.  “You can answer me,” she smiled.

“Yes, of course I did.”  He wanted to ask her where else a
spanking could be administered, but thought better of it. 
Questions were not permitted.

“Silly you.  You know that a paint stirrer is just a
little bigger and wider than a twelve inch ruler, so you
figured I couldn’t do much damage to your buns with such
an instrument.  You thought this would be the easiest
orgasm you’ve earned, didn’t you?”

“Honestly, yes,” he responded.  I figured it would sting
quite a bit, but shouldn’t be too bad.  I was delighted
that you weren’t going to use something heavier, or maybe
even a whip or crop.”

“You should know me well enough, by now, to be suspicious
any time you think you’re going to be getting off easily. 
You know how much pleasure I get from tormenting and
teasing you.”  She took a firm grip on his balls with her
left hand and stretched them out and away from his body as
far as they would go.  “No.  Nature has provided the
perfect place for torturing a man with such a small,
stinging device.  It should be interesting to see if you
can take 200 smacks on your balls and still manage to have
an orgasm.  I know you get turned on by a certain amount
of pain, but this may be too much, even for you.  What do
you think?  Hmmm?”  She released his balls and waited
expectantly for his response.

“I think I’ve definitely learned a lesson,” he said,
wryly.  “It never occurred to me that a ‘spanking’ would
be administered anywhere but to my ass, and I thought 200
smacks on my ass with a paint stirrer would be a piece of
cake.  You’re right.  I should have been suspicious when
it sounded so easy.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’ll just bet you won’t!,” she was amused.  “Well, I
guess we better get the show on the road.  The first thing
we need to do is make sure this big boy doesn’t get in the
way.”  She was lightly stroking his cock as she said this.

She stepped behind him to the small table, then returned
to his front, holding a pair of shiny little alligator
clamps, connected by a thin steel chain some twelve inches
in length.  She started with his left nipple, teasing and
pinching it with her sharp fingernails until it stood
erect.  “You have such nice little nips,” she said.  “They
look just like pencil erasers and they’re very sensitive,
aren’t they?”  As she said this, she opened one of the
clamps and positioned it at the center of his left
nipple’s tip.  When she was satisfied with its location,
she released the jaws and let the sharp teeth of the clamp
close on him.

Breath whistled sharply between his teeth, followed by a
murmered “Owwwwww!”

“These ARE fairly intense clamps,” she said, with mock
seriousness.  “But they have to have a very firm grip,
because they’re going to be supporting a lot of weight.” 
This was said with a grin and a quick hefting of his cock. 
She went through the same routine with his right nipple,
getting another moan from him when the sharp teeth bit
home.  With both nipples clamped, she gave the chain
between them a couple of sharp tugs, seeming pleased with
his pained reaction.  “That ought to do the trick.  Now
let’s get your cock hooked up…”

She stepped behind him again and returned with a three
foot length of rawhide, probably a boot-lace, he thought. 
She gave his cock a few smooth strokes, which made his
erection seem harder than he would have thought possible,
particularly under the circumstances.  With him fully
erect, she doubled the leather cord at its midpoint and
formed a loop at the closed end by passing the loose ends
through it.  The loop went over his cock, where she pulled
it very tight, about two inches behind its quickly
purpling crown.  Then she took the loose ends and passed
them behind the chain connecting his nipples.  She pulled
them over the chain until she was satisfied that his cock
was stretched upright as far as possible, and that it was
exerting a maximum amount of pull on his nipples, which
were now being painfully stretched by the nasty little
clamps.  She tied the loose ends off around the chain and
seemed quite satisfied with the results of her efforts. 
She scored the sensitive head of his cock with a sharp
fingernail.  It caused him to jerk in his bonds, and
created a nasty pull on the nipple clamps.                 
“Now all we have to do is get your balls properly prepared
for their spanking.”  She was grinning, but her tone was
almost officious.  He now fully understood that this was
going to be a very tough session for him to endure.  He
was afraid to imagine what she was going to do to
“prepare” his balls for their imminent torture.

She left him there while she went into the garage and
retrieved a sturdy aluminum stepladder, setting it up
right in front of him, with the step side facing away.  It
was one of the two that she had used to support the dowel
rod he had to straddle when he was punished for speaking
without permission.  She had to nudge it around a bit to
get it just where she wanted it, with the back feet
between his widely spread legs.  He was completely
mystified as to her intentions, and his arms were really
starting to ache from supporting most of his weight.  He
wanted to tell her about his arms, but could not.  They
had a “safe” word, of course.  At any time during a
session, if he should be unable to continue, he had but to
speak the word and the session would stop at once.  She
would immediately release him from bondage and see to
whatever was causing him distress.  He would never use the
word unless he was in very serious trouble, however,
because the conditions of using it were severe.  The
session would end at that point, and he would not
experience the sexual pleasure he was promised after
enduring his punishment.  In addition, before another
session could take place, he would have to spend a half
hour straddling the dreaded dowel rod, with his arms tied,
wrists to elbows, behind him, and his legs widely spread
by means of thin cords tied to his big toes.  The position
forced the entire weight of his body on a very small, very
sensitive area between his legs.  He knew, from
experience, that it would do him no physical damage, but
the pain was excruciating.  He would never use the
safeword unless he was in very, very dire straits, indeed. 
His arms starting to ache from his bondage definitely did
not qualify.

Satisfied with the ladder’s position, she stepped behind
him again and returned with another 36″ length of rawhide
boot lace, and a plastic bucket.  She doubled the leather
cord, made a loop in the closed end, and, pulling his
balls down in his scrotum as far as she could, placed the
loop over them and pulled it snug.  It trapped his balls
at the very bottom of his scrotum, making them very tight,
and very shiny.  She demonstrated their sensitivity by
pulling on the cord with one hand and raking them with the
sharp fingernails of her other.  “Pretty neat, huh?,” she
teased.  “There’s even a little line of separation between
them.  Kinda makes ’em look like a little pair of
buttocks.  Very appropriate for a spanking, don’tcha
think?”  She expected no answer and he gave none.

She took the end of the cord, pulled it over one of the
round ladder rungs which was about three feet off the
ground, then tied it to the handle of the plastic pail,
which she let swing free at the end of the leather.   The
pail was now suspended, underneath the stepladder, about
two and a half feet from the patio deck, pulling his balls
straight out in front of him.  His worst fears were
realized when she retrieved a coiled garden hose from the
corner of the patio, turned on the water, and began
filling the pail.  She said nothing, preferring to
concentrate on the pail, which filled rapidly, getting
heavier by the second.  The pull on his testicles was
getting very bad.  The pail looked like it would hold
about two gallons of water.  He knew a gallon weighed
somewhere around five pounds so he would have ten pounds
pulling on his balls if she filled it all the way.  He
wasn’t sure he could take that much weight without
suffering some damage.  Mercifully, she stopped when the
pail was about two-thirds full, then returned the hose to
its storage place.

“Well, it looks like everything’s in its proper place,”
she said cheerily, retrieving the paint stirrer from the
table behind him.  “Let me just make sure that all is
secure.”  Using the stirrer, which was hardwood, about 14
inches long by two inches wide, and about an eighth of an
inch thick, she lifted up and then released the cord from
his balls to the ladder.  They were being stretched out
very tautly by the heavy bucket of water.  She lifted the
cord about three inches and, when she released it,
allowing the bucket to drop suddenly, he grunted loudly. 
Pleased, she stuck the stirrer under the chain between his
nipples and pulled it slightly away from his chest,
watching his reaction.  Then she slid it behind his cock
and forced it away from his belly.  His eyes told her that
it hurt, and that was clearly the response she was after.

“Looks like you’re not going anywhere for a while,” she
said, “and your balls aren’t going to be moving a great
deal, either.  That’s important, ’cause I wouldn’t want to
miss them, would I?”  He didn’t think a response was
called for, and didn’t want to waste any of the energy he
was sure to be needing for the upcoming ordeal.

“Okay.  You understand why you are being punished? 
Correct?”

“Yes.  I understand”

“And you understand that you are to receive two hundred
smacks to your balls with this little stick?”  She was
unable to stand directly in front of him because of the
stepladder.  She stood very close, just to his right, and
watched his eyes, closely.

“That ‘little stick’ looks pretty intimidating to someone
in my present situation,” he responded, somewhat
truculently.

“I’m going to let you get away with that, since it WAS in
response to a question.  It wasn’t responsive to the
question, however, so you were dangerously close to a
session with the dowel.  I KNOW you wouldn’t want that,
again.  I’m going to start, now.  I must say your balls
look like they’re just begging to be hit, all stretched
out in front of you like that.  Is the weight from the
pail causing you discomfort?”

“Yes, a great deal.”

“Too bad.  Your cock still looks like you could cut
diamonds with it, so it can’t be too awful.  Maybe the
spanking will help you forget about the weight.  Let’s
see.”

Since she was left-handed, she walked around behind him to
his left side.  She rested the flat stick lightly atop his
bound testicles for a moment, then raised it about a foot
above them and struck downward quickly.

SMACK!!!

“Ahhhh!”, he exclained.

“I’ll bet that really stings.  That was a loud impact.” 
As always, she was watching his eyes.  She delivered a
second smack, without warning, extracting another loud
yelp from him.  “If you’re gonna make that much noise, I
may have to gag you.  I know the nearest neighbors are
over 300 yards away, but a yelp like that can carry on a
quiet afternoon.  Do you want me to get a gag?”

“No.  I’ll try to restrain myself.  That DOES sting
horribly.”  He was already starting to breathe a little
rapidly.  He knew this was going to be bad.

She gave him eight more smacks, in rapid succession, and
seemed pleased that he was able to limit his response to a
few sharp releases of breath.  “There.  You’ve had ten
already.  How are your little eggs doing?”

“This is a lot worse than I had imagined.  I’m not sure I
can take this.  My balls feel like they’re on fire.  Are
you sure there’s no bleeding?”

This was met with ten more sharp, stinging smacks,
delivered with a couple of seconds between each blow.  He
had suddenly started to perspire, with rivulets of sweat
rolling down his chest and sides.  His bondage allowed him
no movement, whatsoever, so he just had to hang there
while his balls were tortured.  He had jerked back,
involuntarily, in response to a couple of the blows, but
the resulting pain to his, already stretched to the limit,
testicles caused him to carefully resist his reflex-based
responses.  He wanted to be as still as possible, and he
wanted this ordeal to be over as quickly as possible.

She administered thirty more resounding smacks, from his
left side, then walked behind him to his right side “to
change the angle of attack”.  Still using her left hand,
she delivered another fifty blows from that side.  He was
emitting a low-pitched sigh with each strike, now, so she
paused after completing the first hundred smacks to
evaluate his condition.

“It looks like they’re starting to swell up a bit,” she
mused, fondling his tightly stretched sack.  “They’re
definitely turning a darker color, but I’m pretty sure
that’s just from the lack of circulation caused by the
tightness of this cord.”  From his pained reaction to the
light touch of her fingers, it was obvious his balls had
become extremely sensitive.

“Are you doing OK?  I don’t want to do you any permanent
damage.”  She seemed genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know,” he responded.  Every time you hit them, it
feels like a hot knife has been stuck right through them. 
Even the light touch of your fingers feels like fire to
me.  The funny thing is, I haven’t started to get even a
hint of that dull, aching sensation that I associate with
getting hit in the balls.  I figured that would be the
hardest thing to deal with.  Actually, I thought I might
have to worry about becoming nauseous…but that hasn’t
happened.”

“That’s because I’ve tied them so tightly in their sack. 
If I’d let them hang loose and started beating on them, It
wouldn’t have stung so much, but you would have probably
gotten sick a long time ago.  Sting is much better than
thud, any time.  Still…I AM starting to get worried.  I
always want to make you THINK about using the safeword,
but I also want you to be able to complete your
punishment.  How’s about we negotiate a compromise?  I’ll
give you twenty more smacks…real hard ones…then I’ll
untie your balls and see about getting you that orgasm I
promised.  What do you think?

“What about my side of the compromise?,” he asked.  He
knew, from painful experience, that she gave no relief for
free.

“Wellll,” she grinned.  “You’ll have to let me put
something on you that will make it more difficult for you
to cum, and very painful for you, if you are able to get
off.”

“What kind of ‘something” are you talking about?  Not
those damn clothespins, again?”  He was referring to a
session of three months ago when she had proposed a
similar compromise.  He had agreed, mostly because
anything seemed an improvement over the creative pain she
was causing him.  To his horror, before she made him cum,
she placed eight plastic clothespins on the sensitive
ridge around the head of his cock.  They had serrated
grips, so they would not be accidentally dislodged.  He
hadn’t appreciated the nastiness of her intentions until
her skillful hands brought him to the edge of cumming. 
The clothespins had been painful enough, jangling around
while she stroked on his cock but, when he felt the first
surge of ejaculation he felt unimaginable pain from the
pins.  His cock, naturally enough, tried to expand to its
fullest size with each orgasmic surge.  The clothespins,
tightly gripping their little bits of ultra-sensitive
skin, would not open wider, causing intense, searing pain,
from their bites.  Each time he surged, which was many, as
she skillfully milked him completely dry of cum, He felt
an absolutely uncomparable mixture of overwhelming
pleasure, mixed with excruciating pain.  His screams had
been so loud that they truly worried about one of the
distant neighbors calling the police.  He surely did not
want to experience that, again, and said so.

“I promise.  No clothespins will be involved.  It’s
something else I’ve been wanting to try.  You know I won’t
give you all the details until you’ve agreed.  There HAS
to be some element of surprise, after all.  Now, decide! 
It’s either twenty more smacks to these tender little
babies,” she fondled his balls lightly, eliciting a wince
of pain from him, “followed by a handjob, or, it’s 100
more smacks, and who knows how you’ll be feeling at that
point?.  Make up your mind.  I don’t want to take all day
with this.”

“You leave me no choice.  I’m afraid 100 more smacks from
that nasty little stick might just do me some permanent
damage.  I’ll take my chances with the twenty smacks and
the masturbation.”

“Yeah, that’s a tough choice, but I think you made the
right one.  OK.  I’m going to give you twenty more, ten
from each side.  Here we go!”

Each of the twenty were harder than any that had gone
before.  She was making sure she got her money’s worth out
of these last few blows.  She allowed about fifteen
seconds between each impact, giving him time to appreciate
the pain of each, as it was delivered, then time to
anticipate the pain of the next.  When they were finally
over, she quickly tipped the pail of water, spilling it
onto the patio deck and relieving the strain on his
punished testicles.  After untying the rawhide from the
pail’s handle, she gently worked the loop around his sack
looser…not without difficulty because the swelling of
his balls had made the cord dig in severely…then pulled
it off and discarded it.  She massaged his balls lightly,
allowing them to find their normal location in their sack,
before releasing them and starting on his cock and
nipples.  She got his cock free first. She untied its
supporting cord from the nipple clamp chain, then loosened
the loop behind its darker and shinier crown and freed it
from its restraints, allowing it to drop to its normal
position between his widespread legs.  The nipple clamps
were last, and had been on for so long, and under so much
tension, that he gasped with shock when they were removed
and blood began to recirculate where they had been.

His arms were very tired from being stretched high above
him for so long, but he knew, from experience, that she
would keep him tied like this until she got him off.

“I have to get a couple of things from inside,” she said,
“and I need this pail.”  She went inside, leaving him to
puzzle over her intentions for him.  He had no idea how
she would contrive to make his orgasm both difficult and
painful, but was certain her imagination was up to the
task.

He was alone for only a few minutes when she returned with
the pail full of ice and water, a tube of KY jelly, and 
something else in her hand that he couldn’t see.  She set
the pail in front of him, laid the KY beside it, then
showed him what else was in her hand.  He recognized them
right away, and thought they looked very innocuous.  There
were four of them.  They were little white plastic
rings…the type that remain on the neck of a two-liter
soda bottle when you unscrew the cap.  She had managed to
work them off of some of the bottles in the recycling
container, he guessed, but still didn’t quite see what she
planned.  A closer look revealed that they were lined with
little plastic spikes, flexible, but quite sharp, and he
began to develop some serious concern for his immediate
welfare.

Acknowledging his worst fears, she began to explain.  ”
“These are from old soda bottles, but you’ve probably
already figured that out.  The little teeth inside them
aren’t sharp enough to break the skin, but they are plenty
sharp enough to hurt sensitive skin, and the head of your
cock is covered with VERY sensitive skin.  I won’t be able
to get them on properly, unless your cock is a lot less
erect than it is right now.  That’s what the ice water is
for.  Let’s see if we can make that ‘swelling’ go down.”

She was enjoying her little joke tremendously as she
picked up the pail, moved between his wide-spread legs,
and completely submerged his genitals in the icy cold
water.  He cried out from the shock of the cold, but was
helpless to move his cock and balls away from the freezing
temperature they were now feeling.  She held it there for
much longer than he would have thought necessary but, when
she did finally remove it, his erection was just about
gone.

“That should do it,” she said.  “Now let’s get these on
you while things are a little smaller and easier to deal
with.”  She took each of the rings, one at a time, and
positioned them on the crown of his cock, which was quite
painful, in itself.  She placed them over the tip, worked
them down underneath until they rested on his frenum, then
slid the other side down the top of his crown until they
could not go further.  When she had finished she had all
four lined up, one after the other, forming a very
painful, cigarband-like ring, about a half-inch wide,
right around one of the most sensitive places on a man’s
body.  The sharp litle plastic spikes dug in nastily,
causing him significant discomfort.

“Just wait until your cock gets hard, again,” she grinned. 
Those little things are going to hurt like crazy.”

They already did hurt like crazy, he thought, and would
become excruciating if his cock got hard.  He couldn’t
even imagine cumming with them on him.  The pain might
make him crazy, yet, obviously, the little spikes wouldn’t
even break the skin.  She might have come up with
something that would, indeed, make it very hard for him to
have an orgasm.  At the moment, at least, he hadn’t the
slightest interest in cumming.

She, of course, was determined to bring him off
spectacularly.  She was quite proud of this little idea
and was anxious to see if it had the effect she thought it
would.  Squeezing a large amount of KY into her palm, she
stood right in front of him and began to rub her palms
together, gleefully.

“Are you ready to ride?” she quizzed him.  “This is gonna
be a LOTTA fun!”  She began a slow, skillful stroking of
his cock with her left hand, gently milking his sensitive
balls with her right.  To his horror, he felt his cock
begin to harden, almost immediately.  The sharp pain he
felt on his cockhead told him how really bad this was
going to be.  She was an expert masturbatrix and, if she
wanted to make him cum, nothing would stand in her way.

She worked him a little harder, sliding her hand up and
down his shaft with the glistening lubricant.  Watching
his eyes, she could see that he was already beginning to
climb that slippery slope she would force him to slide
down, when she was ready.  After a few minutes, she
released him and watched his, now fully erect, cock bob
around in space like it had a mind of its own, with its
crown being compressed and tormented by the sharp little
spikes.  She resumed her stroking, taking him closer and
closer to the edge.  He knew he was helpless to resist
what was happening to him.  He was about to blow and knew
it would probably be the most equisitely painful
ejaculation he had ever experienced.  The pain he was
feeling from the little spikes was already much worse than
the clothespins had been when he had ejaculated!  When he
came, his cock would have no room to expand and the spikes
would dig into him savagely.  He resigned himself to his
fate and waited for her to decide to take him over the
top.

She soon did exactly that and, when he exploded, he
screamed aloud.  It felt like his cock was being crushed
by a crown of needles!  He could feel his body actually
trying not to respond to the irresistable urge to
ejaculate, but to no avail.  She expertly milked him,
slowly and surely, until he could cum no more, while he
sighed and moaned in agony mixed with pleasure.  When he
finally stopped surging, she scooped up some of his semen
on her fingers, then placed them in his mouth.

“Here you go.  Taste yourself.  That was pretty wild, huh? 
Now I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of bad news for you.  I
won’t be able to get those rings off you until you’re soft
again.  If I tried to take them off now, you wouldn’t like
the result.  How’s about I untie you, retie your hands
behind your back and take you inside?  Do you think you
could find a way to get me off, without using your hands?” 
She was grinning broadly.  “If you do, I’ll get some
little scissors and cut those rings off.  Otherwise,
you’ll just have to wear them until the ‘swelling’ goes
down.  That could take quite a while, given the level of
sexual excitement these sessions always generate in you. 
Who knows?  You might even get sexually excited again
while you’re trying to get me off.  Her grin grew larger. 
“You’d beg me to cut those rings off then, huh?”

She untied the ropes pulling his ankles apart, then stood
on the stepstool to release his wrists, which he allowed
her to retie, behind his back.  Grabbing his cock she took
him into the house like a naked pull toy, looking forward
to her orgasm.

He was happy to be done with his punishment and was
looking forward to giving her pleasure.  In spite of his
soreness, and the continuing pain on the head of his cock,
which was hardening again at the sight of her firm
buttocks in the thong, he was already contemplating what
he could do to her to earn his next session.


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