If I Were There With You - Hunter's Ballbusting Discussion

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TheBusted
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If I Were There With You - Hunter's Ballbusting Discussion

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Hello slave. Do you remember this page from my recent tease?

I want you to take one testicle in each hand, between your fingers and your thumb. Start squeezing. Slowly at first, letting the pain build and radiate through your body. The pain should begin to intensify, and in response you should clamp down harder.

When it gets to be too much, start pulsing your grip. Squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax. Each squeeze should cause a jolt of pain.


I hope you were squeezing hard enough. Because if I were there with you, I wouldn't just be squeezing harder. I would fucking annihilate you. We’d skip the warm up. I'd stand you up and kick you so hard with my bare foot you collapse into the fetal position, unable to even look up and admire my amazing body. My silky-smooth skin would be covered only by my white lace underwear, not that you could see it through your tears. While you were still on the ground I'd kneel next to you, pry your hands off your devastated ballsack, and squeeze with all my might. I'd start with your left ball, digging and searching with the tips of my fingers for the spot that hurts most. Maybe I'd use both hands, to squeeze the front and back of your left testicle at the same time. Maybe I'd alternate between flattening long ways and short ways. Maybe I'd grind it between my palms like I was trying to crack a walnut. I'd find the spot that makes you scream loudest and clamp with all my might. Id use my thumb nail to dig deep into the meat of the testicle, sending searing agony through your body.

I would only relent when I felt your left testicle was just seconds away from being permanently damaged. I wouldn't care how much you screamed, cried or begged. I just love the way a ball feels when it’s squishing in my fingers. All you could do would be to hope I didn't get carried away. Well, that is if you could think about anything other than that grinding, crushing, piercing pain shooting through your stomach.

When I finally do let go, I'd make you thank me for destroying your manhood. But before you could finish gasping out the words, I'd move on to the right testicle. Do you think you could even remember the safe word before the pain became so intense you couldn't even talk? If you could, would you even want to say it? You told me you had been fantasizing about this for months. Now you have the most deviantly beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, wearing just white lace underwear, acting out your fantasy. Would you want to stop just because your stomach was churning and your nuts were on fire?

Some guys have passed out at this point. The pain is too much. I've never let that stop me. I might switch to punches until you jolt awake. Other guys stay conscious but lose their voice from all the screaming. That's when things get dangerous, because I have to make sure to check that they're still breathing. Those guys are wimps with pathetic balls. I want guys who can take a proper ballbusting. A ballbusting like I’d give you. You could take it, couldn’t you?

When I finally do let up, I like to finish up with a strong open-handed slap. I find nuts are much more tender right after a good squeezing. That alone would send you rolling around the floor in agony, if I hadn’t restrained you yet.

All I'd let you say is "please hit me harder, mistress." I love hearing you beg. Beg to have your balls destroyed.

You might need to wipe up a pool of cum off your stomach. I've done that before; literally squeezed the cum out of a ballsack. I like it when that happens. I’ve been told it's exquisitely painful. It also makes the rest of the session that much more unbearable. And, of course, I'd have to punish you for cumming without permission.

After I finished grinding your nuts to a pulp with my bare fingers, I'd switch to kicking. I'd have you kneel in front of me, one hand holding that pathetic cock out of the way and the other behind your back. The practice swings I take with my right foot are partially to line up my aim, but also to admire my handiwork so far. Each ball is visibly swollen and bruised something nasty. you have that blank look in your eyes of someone who's world is entirely consumed by pain. We’ve only been together a few minutes.

Finally, Id unleash the kick. I know just how much to jump in the air, just how to turn my hips, just how to use my arms for balance. I know to think about literally kicking your testicles into your throat. When my foot connects I’d make sure I can actually feel each testicle get flattened between my toes and your pelvis. I think the neighbors would be able to hear the crunching sound.

This kick, on its own, would destroy most men. But after the squeezing warm up, it would feel like you've died. Your mouth would open but you wouldn't be able to scream. You'd slam to the floor, limbs flailing and twitching, tears streaming down your face. Spasms of pain would shoot from each testicle throughout your body. After a couple minutes of writhing in agony you'd slowly gain back enough control of your arms and legs that you could clutch helplessly at your decimated testicles. You'd whimper as you alternate between closing your legs to protect what's left of your manhood and opening them because even that gentle touch is too painful.

At this point I’d probably burst out laughing. It’s a funny sight, a guy getting kicked in the nuts. That you’ve done it voluntarily is all the more ridiculous. I used to not tease guys so much, but now I can’t help myself. “Oh, did that hurt? Are you sore? Did I get them? It was just one kick...” I’d probably use my high-pitched voice and mimic you clutching at your broken manhood. I might even take off my white lace bra while you were still seeing stars. I’d play with a nipple in one hand and my clit with the other. How humiliating would that be? A beautiful, naked woman is playing with herself in front of you and you’re in too much pain to even look?

Up next: kneeing you into the next dimension. Once your screaming and writhing had settled down to just pathetic whimpering and twitching, I’d grab a fistful of your hair and yank you back up to your feet. I’d push you against the wall and put my hands on your shoulders so you couldn’t escape. This lets me really feel your body convulse. It’s so hot, knowing what I’m doing to you. Knowing how I’m making you feel. Knowing that you, a man from the supposedly stronger sex, are powerless to prevent this devastation. I like looking guys in the eyes as their testicles erupt in pain. I like seeing the funny faces they make as the agony explodes from their nutsack then lingers throughout their body. I like feeling them convulse in my hands.

Once I had you in position, I’d take a couple of practice swings with my right knee. Not that I need it. I just like to build up the sense of anticipation. And I like watching you flinch as I lightly tap your balls with my knee. I know your midsection would already be burning, nuts swelling and bruised something awful. If you’d eaten recently I know you’d be on the cusp of vomiting. So even my gentle practice taps would make you wince.

I know how to knee to make it as painful as possible. I know how to create “the perfect squelcher” as my ballbusting friends call it. I know to get the very edge of my knee to trap each testicle between my leg and your pelvis. So when I’m done with my “practice” swings, I’d raise my knee menacingly behind me for a second, holding it in the air as I’m seconds away from fucking destroying you.

I’d make you look me in the eyes as I slam my knee into your pelvis. I’d want to see the instant you comprehend what happened to you. The squelching sound would be audible if it wasn’t drowned out by your scream. You’d try to lurch over, but I’d hold you in place. I would leave my knee in your crotch, twisting it like a knife into what’s left of your ballsack. Between my hands on your shoulders and my powerful legs you’d be completely helpless. All you could think about is my knee at the very center of your existence, each twist and vibration sending shockwaves of pain into your testicles, through your spermatic cords and shooting through the rest of your body. You’d be sobbing, clawing desperately at my knee to get a second of relief.

Finally, I’d relent. You’d topple over, clutching pitifully at the two swollen balls between your legs. “Aww, is it that bad? Are they sore? Do you feel sick?” All you could do would be whimper pitifully as you rock back and forth on the ground.

At this point, I’d probably “offer” to examine your package to make sure it was still intact. I’d roll you onto your back and sit on your stomach. I’d make sure to hold your arms down under my legs so your pesky hands don’t interfere with my work. As my hands work through your throbbing ballsack you’d be trembling, partly in pain and partly in fear of what I have planned. Balls feel different after being busted, and I’d make sure to check every part of them, from the base to the cords to the swollen, beaten testicles themselves. My poking, prodding and flicking would make you groan. Even those light touches would be painful after the destruction I just delivered. “Oh it’s not that bad. It’s only been 10 minutes! I think you’re ready for more ...” You’d let out a sob at the thought of taking more ballbusting. I’d get wet feeling you squirm helplessly under my body. I’m getting a little turned on now just thinking about it.

Truthfully, your testicles would be fine. I mean, they’d probably be hot to the touch of my cool fingers, swollen something nasty, and several different shades of red and purple. But I’m really good at what I do, and I like doing it. I know how to walk right up to the line of permanent damage without crossing it. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t get to play together any more :(.

Somehow, after all of this, you’d be rock hard. Think about it - you’d be getting off on all the ball pain, you’d have an amazing view of my barely covered body, and the girl of your dreams would be giving a LOT of attention to your private parts. Well, painful attention, but attention nonetheless. And now I’d be taking your aching, burning orbs in my hands and rolling them around in my fingers, maybe giving them a playful slap or light squeeze. You wouldn’t be able to see them because of how I’m sitting on you, but you’d know my uncovered breasts were just dangling in the air, jiggling with every poke and giggle. You would be dripping precum everywhere, barely able to control yourself. If you’d been good, I might even give you a couple of long, slow strokes while I fondle your aching orbs.

After a couple of minutes of poking and flicking, we’d move on to the next activity: a kick from behind. I’d have you stand up with your back to me, one hand behind your head, the other holding your pathetic cock. Kicks from behind are great for newbie ballbusters. It’s much easier to get a square hit because of the angle of the foot when it makes contact. I use it now just as a change of pace, and because the guy can’t see it coming. It also gives you a whole different perspective on the experience. You see their whole body convulse when you make contact.

You know, it’s funny. I would have my bra off for several minutes, but you would barely get to look at my tits. You’d either be seeing stars or facing the other direction. Oh well. It’d be your funeral. Or your nuts funeral, at least.

Id play up my practice kicks, of course. Take a few too many so I could watch you jump in fright each time I make light contact. Or maybe it’d be from pain; those nuts would be nearly destroyed, after all.

Id know I got you squarely where it counts because I would be able to feel each nut flatten between the bridge of my foot and your pelvis. The skin on skin slapping sound would be marvelous. I’d watch as you leap into the air then come crashing down in a sobbing mess in limbs and bruised balls. Getting flattened against my foot would be almost too much for your manhood in its battered and swollen state.

Days later you’d tell me you swore you could feel your testicles explode at this kick, that I’d trapped them perfectly with my foot. That it felt like a fucking brick slamming into your crotch. That you thought that if a doctor looked in your mouth they’d be able to see your testicles lodged squarely in your throat next to your tonsils. Of course, I’d remind you that your testicles belong to Remy, you don’t own them anymore. At this point you would give up trying to fight it, you’d resign yourself to the agony. The pain would shoot up from your midsection and in your desperate clutching you’d swear you could feel only mush. “Money shot! That was a good one! Are they still there?” You wouldn’t even be writhing, you’d just be lying on the floor, a broken man in the fetal position. Your mouth would open but no scream would come out.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would I keep going? You’d already be in more pain than you could process. Your balls would feel like they’re broken into a million little balls of excruciating agony. You’re stomach would be on fire. You’d be coughing in pain. Seeing stars. I’ll tell you why I’d keep going. I’m not done laughing yet.

I wouldn’t just want to destroy you today. I’d want you to walk funny for WEEKS. I’d want each testicle so swollen they don’t have space in your scrotum and they squeeze against each other. Id want that piercing agony to take days to fade to a just a throbbing ache. I’d want you to be reminded of me every time you jack off for the next year.

So I’d roll you onto your back, stand over you and force your legs apart. Id take one of your feet in each of my hands and kick your hands away. My ballbusting friends call this a “gas pedal”. You’d be whimpering as I hold my foot menacingly over your balls. I’d make you beg for it. “Do you have anything to ask me?” “Please stomp my balls mistress” “... how hard?” “Very ...” I’d slam my foot down as you answer, like I was trying to kill a small bug. You’d jerk around on the floor, gasping for breath and grasping at my foot planted firmly in your painful mushy mess of a ballsack. Maybe I’d even give it a few cruel twists, just to make sure I hit the spots that are the most painful.

This is one of my personal favorite ballbusting methods. Busted balls feel so interesting under bare feet. Hard yet squishy at the same time. You can feel the tension in the sole of your foot, and they feel almost slippery when you twist your foot around. Then, of course, you can tell when you really trap one down there. The guys body language changes. I mean, they’re always in pain. You just stomped on their balls. But when you really trap one, there’s this frantic desperation. Their begging gets more urgent. Their voice raises an octave. Their throws of pain get more pronounced. When it happens, I can’t help myself. I have to let go of one of your feet, so I can slide a hand underneath my sopping wet panties.

Of course, I’d tease you as I did it. “Oh, did I trap one? How’s that feel? Is this making it feel better? I thought you liked my feet?” You’d just beg and sob while you clutched helplessly at my ankle, trying to get a tiny reprieve from the pain as I grind each testicle under my foot.

There’s no way I’d be satisfied with just one stomp. It’s too fun. Once you’d managed to quit your bitching and moaning I’d make you get back on your back, with your legs together and that swollen sack resting on your thighs. I’d stand over you, again taking a second with my foot hanging over your broken balls to make you beg for another. “Please mistress stomp on my ...” SPLAT.

Can you even imagine how it would feel to have my foot slam into your scrotum? How agonizing it would be as your tender balls get ground under my toes? Each twist flattening them between my feet and your thighs? I’ve seen that story before. It’s like I have my foot on a pain thermostat. In one instant I could give you relief or utter annihilation. We both know what I would choose. Do you think you would feel each of my toes individually? Or would it just be one giant crushing sensation?

After I was satisfied each testicle was thoroughly squished I’d probably switch to punches. I’d keep you in your back and sit back down on your stomach. I’d grip your bruised scrotum tightly with my weak hand, making sure each bruised testicle had nowhere to hide. I’d take a few seconds to enjoy your whimpering, maybe lightly drawing little circles on your nuts with my finger. “Please mistress, please ...” “please what?” “Please punch my balls mistress”

I wouldn’t ease into it. The first punch would be with all my might with no warning. It would have you howling and thrashing underneath me. I love feeling guys writhe in pain. When I’m sitting on their stomach I can really feel their muscles contort, and I love feeling a guys hands clutch desperately at my legs. And the sounds guys make, oh my god the sounds. You guys sound like dying animals. I’m just busting balls, what’s the big deal? Of course, I’d keep hitting you. I’d probably switch it up, start off with a few hard punches then finish you off with a quick flurry. With my hand around your ballsack you’d be powerless to stop me. Maybe I’d take it one ball at a time. Do you think a testicle could actually crack in half? Or would it just feel that way as I mercilessly pound each ball individually into oblivion?

Maybe I’d give you a quick break. I’d let go of what’s left of your manhood to play with myself; one hand caressing my clit while the other pinches one of my nipples. Of course, you shaking in pain under me would be like having a human vibrator between my legs. I’d definitely be able to feel the friction through my lace panties. I’d think for a second about letting you fuck me, but I wouldn’t want to give you the satisfaction. You’d need to be a really really good slave for me to let that happen. You’d need to take so much more ballbusting abuse over weeks, if not months of time. I’d want each thrust to sent jolts of agony down your spine while we do it doggy style. I’d want to have your balls in my hand while we do it reverse cowgirl. I’d only let you fuck me if you were in horrific pain. You’d have to vomit and pass out multiple times before I’d really think about it. You’d need to know to the core of your being that I was your master. You’d need to turn your balls over completely.

No, for now I’d only tease you. I’d slowly strip as those balls got more and more destroyed. Maybe I’d lightly stroke your dick for a few seconds in between bashing your balls. Maybe I’d pleasure myself while you rolled around in agony. Maybe I’d slowly whisper naughty things in your ear while I had your testicles clutched tightly in my hand. I’d whisper about how hot you were making me, about how I knew you could take so much more, about how I could feel your testicles swelling and exploding as I smash them between my fingers. Even through the pain most guys stay rock hard. I am unbelievably sexy, after all. But no, I wouldn’t let you fuck me until you’d taken much more abuse.

I know how bad you want this. You're probably so desperate for a good ballbusting that you've replayed my teases over and over in the past year. Maybe you've even looked at other teases. Maybe you tried to decipher the broken English in the new "Balls test" or ballbusting holiday. Maybe you busted your balls to hurtballs or joetrous instruction. Maybe you’ve even blown your load busting yourself. That's fine. Good, even. Just as long as, at the end of the day, you know who really owns your balls.
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vyyr
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Re: If I Were There With You - Hunter's Ballbusting Discussion

Post by vyyr »

that was so hot!, my balls are in pain reading this and i love it
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