Chapter One: Torture Certification
Chapter Two: Office Introductions
Chapter Three: The Kidnapping
Chapter Four: The Promotion
Chapter Five: Taylor Returns
Chapter Six: Amber's Assault
"He's worked here for a few months. I assume he's learned his place by now?"
Jim gulped. This girl might be new, but she seemed like trouble.
"Yes, he has." His boss, Nicole, answered readily.
The new girl, Amber, flashed a predatory smirk. She was going to enjoy conquering her new prey.
"Good."
With a practiced saunter, Amber made her way directly in front of Jim. He was completely naked, tied securely on his hands and knees to a modified workout bench. It was the same "immobilizer" Natalie had introduced him to on his first day as a BIA agent.
Amber knelt to look him straight in the eye, and he gasped as she came fully into his view for the first time. Much to his surprise, she was also completely naked. By kneeling, she was placing her jiggling size 32DDs and perfect, hairless pussy directly in his line of sight. He tried to maintain eye contact with her, but his cock kept twitching in excitement and he kept involuntarily glancing down at the small but perky nipples that seemed to be staring back at him.
"Make no mistake about it. I will break you. I don't care how big and tough you think you are. It's only a matter of time before you're begging for mercy."
Nicole lay down next to Amber, resting her chin on top of her hands and looking up at Jim expectantly. She was also naked, although Jim found that less surprising. She controlled his orgasms, so she was always rubbing it in his face by teasing him and getting him worked up.
"Amber is earning quite a reputation for herself, but I told her that you have balls of steel and that you can take anything. Would you be a dear and ask her to go extra hard on you?"
Jim nodded, which Nicole was quick to chastise him for.
"Use your words, Jim. Like a good little bitch."
Jim took a deep breath, trying his best to gather his courage. It wasn't easy, tied down as he was.
"Please, Amber, my balls were made to be busted. I want you to go as hard as you possibly can. I would be honored if you made it very, very painful for me."
Amber grinned from ear to ear. She stood up and walked behind Jim, taking position between his spread legs like a predator positioning itself for the kill. At the same time, Nicole rolled onto her back, putting her naked body on full display for Jim's enjoyment.
"This one's confident! If even half the things I've heard about him are true, he's going to be just perfect."
"Don't worry, they're all true and then some. He's got the most impressive pair I've ever seen."
Amber sat down on the floor directly behind Jim, between his spread legs. She reached out with both arms and grabbed a firm hold of his nutsack, which was already quite swollen and bruised.
Jim let out an involuntary gasp as he felt her cold fingers wrap around his manhood. Even though she was being relatively gentle, his body gave a reflexive shiver in fear. Tied down as he was, limbs spread and completely helpless, he couldn't help but feel exquisitely vulnerable as she rolled his testicles between her fingers.
"It seems some nasty bitches have already done a number on you … tell me, how are they feeling?"
He took a deep breath, trying desperately to focus on anything but the fact that Amber was holding his delicate reproductive organs in her hands and that there was nothing he could do to protect himself.
"They’re pretty sore, but please, don’t hold back. I would be honored if you’d squeeze them as hard as you can.” His voice was a little meeker now that she held his nuts in her palms, but he still choked out the words.
“What a good little bitch you are. Let’s see how long you can keep up that attitude.”
With that, Amber clamped down viciously, her fingers forming crushing vices with bad intentions.
A raw, animal sound tore from Jim’s throat as the world dissolved into a white-hot singularity of pain centered in his groin. He threw his head back, cords standing out in his neck, his body straining against the leather restraints until the bench groaned in protest.
Amber leaned into it, her knuckles bleaching white. She adjusted her grip, seeking a deeper, more intimate agony. A sickening, internal pressure built, a feeling of fragile orbs being remade into pulp.
“Please …” Jim gasped, the word barely audible.
“Please, what?” Amber teased, her breath hot against his lower back. She punctuated her question with a particularly nasty pulse of pressure and a sharp, cracking sensation made Jim’s vision flicker.
“Harder … please …”
She grinned, all too happy to oblige. The tips of her knuckles turned white as she upped the intensity even further. Tears blurred Jim’s eyes and mixed with the sweat on his cheeks. Each ragged breath hitched around the relentless, grinding pressure at the center of his reality. He could feel his own pulse hammering within her grasp, a frantic bird in her closing fist.
Amber finally relented with a slow, taunting release of pressure, but she was careful to keep her fingers wrapped around his manhood. The relief was a different kind of shock, a deep, throbbing echo of the trauma. Jim sagged against the bench, sucking in air as quickly as possible.
“Was that hard enough for you?” Amber’s voice was close, a whisper of pure malice against his sweat-slicked skin.
Jim forced his head up, meeting Nicole’s piercing eyes. He saw the expectation there, the hunger for his submission. A cold, stubborn pride flared through the haze of pain. He swallowed, his throat dry.
“No,” he managed, the word scraping out. “I think … you can … squeeze harder.”
Slow, delighted smiles spread across both girls’ faces.
“Ask me properly.” She ran her thumbs gently up and down the length of each of Jim’s testicles, an ominous reminder of the power she held over him.
“Please,” Jim grated out, every instinct screaming against the words. “Squeeze my balls harder.”
Without another word, Amber shifted her position. She released his whole scrotum and leaned forward, wrapping both of her hands around his left testicle. It was the more swollen of the two, and her fingers interlaced, creating a perfect, brutal cage of pressure. She took a deliberate breath, and then her entire upper body tensed.
The compression was instantaneous and profound.
It was a deeper, more fundamental crushing. Jim’s body exploded into motion before his brain could even register the command. He threw himself against the restraints, a wild, arching convulsion that wrenched the bench legs off the floor with a screech. His back bowed, his shoulders screamed against the leather, and a raw, shattered sound was torn from his lungs. He thrashed to the absolute outer limit of the restraints, every tendon standing at full attention, a puppet jerked by a current of pure, unadulterated agony.
From the floor, Nicole laughed – a bright, musical sound that cut through his guttural cries.
“Look at him go!” She chirped. “Like a fish on a line.”
“That’s right. Flop, bitch!” Amber kept squeezing, her shoulders locked with effort, her knuckles a bloodless bone-white.
A wet, guttural whine leaked from Jim’s clenched teeth, the sound of something breaking deep inside.
“Listen to that,” Nicole cooed from the floor, peering up at his convulsing face. “It’s like a teakettle.”
Jim’s body slammed back down onto the bench, shuddering, his muscles spasming in helpless waves. Amber finally released her grip, letting the devastated testicle settle back into the swollen sac. Jim sucked in a ragged breath that burned like fire as tears streamed down his face.
“Pathetic,” Amber said, wiping her hands on her thighs. “All that training just to sob like a little boy who dropped his ice cream.”
“I think this little baby is actually crying because his poor balls hurt. I see tears on his cheeks!”
Another convulsion wracked Jim’s frame, his hips jerking against the empty air. He tried to speak, but only a choked sob came out.
“Was that a word?” Amber leaned in, her green eyes wide with mock curiosity. “Sounded like ‘please’ but got stuck in your demolished balls.”
Nicole turned her head and held her hand up to her ear, as if trying to listen really closely to Jim’s whimpers. After mock listening to a few pained groans, she sat up with a feigned understanding.
“I’ve got it. I know what he’s saying.”
“What’s that?”
Nicole smirked cruelly.
“He said he’s a big, bad BIA agent, and that was nothing. He wants you to kick him in the balls, really fucking hard. Isn’t that right, Jim?”
The question hung in the damp air. Jim felt the words slither into his ears; his boss had always been so delightfully cruel. He forced a sharp, single nod against the cold metal.
“Y… y… yes…”
Amber’s smile returned, wider and more genuine than before.
“Well, since he asked so nicely.”
She took two steps back, her feet making only the softest of sounds against the floor mat as she gauged the distance. Jim’s body clenched in anticipation, every muscle locking tight. He couldn’t help but strain his neck to look between his legs and watch his oncoming annihilation. He saw her weight shift onto her left leg and the subtle coil in her right shoulder. The world narrowed to the space between her swinging foot and his tortured flesh.
There was no wind-up, just one step forward and the brutal, efficient piston-shot of her leg.
The painted toenails of her right foot connected with a wet, punching thud.
A soundless scream ripped through Jim’s chest, his mouth a wide, dark hole of utter agony. The pain was overwhelming and immediate, and it came in the form of a seismic shockwave that vaporized all thought, all sense of self. He was consumed by pure, animalistic suffering. His body convulsed against the straps, a violent, spastic judder that made the bench skid an inch across the floor.
As if from a thousand miles away, he heard Amber laugh.
“Look at him jump!”
Nicole’s voice was closer, a satisfied purr near his ear.
“That’s the sound Jim makes when he wants you to kick him again, only harder.”
Black spots swirled at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him under. He fought it, clinging to the razor’s edge of consciousness, because the alternative was giving them the satisfaction of seeing him pass out. He breathed in shallow, ragged hitches, each one a fresh torment in his shattered core. He needed to make a sound, any sound that wasn’t a sob. He sucked air through clenched teeth, his voice a shredded, broken thing.
“Th… thank you.”
Amber’s grin was a slash of pure triumph, like a predator gleaming over their conquered prey.
“You’re so very welcome.”
Her foot swung again, a piston of toned muscle and bone, and exploded against him with a sickening, wet impact.
Before the next wave of pain could even fully register, before his brain could scream, her foot recoiled and shot forward again. Another detonation, deeper, brighter. His body was a taught wire of vibrating agony.
The third kick was a brutal, upward scoop that lifted the bench’s back legs off the concrete. A visceral, internal pop echoed in Jim’s skull, or maybe it was just the sound of his own sanity cracking. The pain was no longer a series of separate strikes; it was a continuous, white-noise siren consuming the world.
He folded over the restraint at his waist, a silent, gaping hole where his mouth was. Spittle dripped onto the floor. The shuddering that wracked him was primal, autonomic, completely beyond his control.
Nicole smacked her hands together once with a sharp, delighted clap.
“Look at that form! Absolutely textbook.”
Amber stepped back, breathing a little more heavily, admiring her work. Jim’s entire being was now centralized in a destroyed, pulsating ruin between his legs. Every heartbeat was torture, a hammer blow on raw nerves.
He tried to find the room, the light, their faces, but it all swam in a watery haze. The only thing he could focus on was the ruin detonating between his legs.
“That’s Jim-speak for thank you, if you couldn’t tell,” Nicole smirked as her only male employee fought desperately to cling to consciousness before her.
“Is it really? I was thinking it sounded like I broke him already.”
“What do you think, Jim? Are you broken yet?”
Jim choked down desperate gulps of air, frantically trying to keep the room from spinning and consciousness from slipping away. It was all he could do to choke out a faint syllable in response.
“Th … Th … th-ank … you …”
“Aww, the little bitch still has his manners! Clearly, I didn’t kick hard enough. Let’s see if this does the trick.”
Amber’s face screwed up in focused determination. Eyes fixated on the targets dangling between Jim’s open legs, she wound her leg back, then flung it forward with all her might. She was careful to swing her hips and keep her toes pointed downward this time, and as a result, the bony top of her foot made direct contact with the center of Jim’s still-swollen scrotum. The room filled with the horrifying slapping sound of skin on skin as she buried her foot in his crotch and both his gonads were forced to absorb the full power of her kick.
For a few moments, there was silence. Jim kept still, as if his body temporarily refused to register the full extent of the destruction caused by this last kick.
That reprieve only lasted so long. It took a second or two, but within moments, his entire body seized as his veins coursed with white-hot agony once again. He tried desperately to close his legs or bring his arms down to protect himself, but the restraints kept him tied in position, exposed for more abuse. He opened his mouth to scream, but the only sound that came out was a gentle cry.
Almost as soon as Jim began emitting that high-pitched squeak, Amber drew her leg back and kicked him again.
The contact from the second kick wasn’t quite as direct as the first kick, but it hardly mattered. Aching as he was, it was more than enough to rock Jim’s world even further. He thrashed about, testing the absolute outer limits of the restraints, but it was no use. There was nothing he could do. Nothing could quell that horrible, soul-consuming ache emanating from his crotch. Nothing he could do to protect himself. After a few moments of desperate convulsing, he hung his head limp in defeat, resigning himself to trying desperately to quell the horrifying nausea in his stomach. With all the air forced from his lungs, he couldn’t even scream.
Just as a high-pitched squeaking sound began involuntarily emanating from Jim’s lips again, Amber’s foot made contact for a third time in as many seconds.
This kick opened the floodgates. Until that point, Jim had suffered in near silence, too overwhelmed with agony to yell. Not anymore. When the pointed tip of Amber’s big toe made direct contact with the center of his swollen left testicle, the same one she had squeezed earlier, he let out a loud, animalistic wail. It was as if he was a pig being led to slaughter. He tossed and turned his head, trying hopelessly to say no to the tsunami wave of suffering washing over his body. It was no use, of course. Amber’s kicks had accomplished their goal and left him completely wrecked.
Amber watched Jim’s tortured convulsions with amusement. This was who the BIA was sending to infiltrate the Femme Fatales? Really? Her briefing earlier had included some pretty tall tales about this man – he single-handedly brought down the Valkyries, only male promotion in BIA history, etc. – but he wasn’t looking so impressive after a couple of measly kicks to the balls.
As Jim’s frantic exclamations simmered down to a pained panting, Nicole couldn’t help but egg Amber on further.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “I heard a fun little rumor from Taylor earlier. Rumor is, Jim’s new favorite toy is the mallet.”
A fresh, electric jolt of terror shot through Jim’s haze. His eyes snapped open, searching the wall of tools. The mallet was a short, brutish thing with a dense rubber head, and Taylor had nearly castrated him with it yesterday.
“Is that right?” Amber’s tone was one of genuine interest. She walked to the bench’s end, unbuckled the ankle restraint on his right leg, and pushed his thigh higher up against the bench pad. She did the same on the left, widening his stance inhumanely. With a solid clunk, she engaged a hidden lever, and a small metal platform with a round indentation slid out from between his legs. It locked into place, positioned directly beneath his swollen, purple testicles. Once the platform was in place, Jim felt Amber slide another piece of cool metal around the base of his scrotum.
The bruised and swollen remnants of Jim’s manhood rested there, exposed and utterly vulnerable, on top of the cold steel while Amber tied his legs back into place. It was as if they were being served to her on a silver platter. Once his legs were locked back into position, she strode to the wall, her fingers skipping over other instruments before closing around the mallet’s handle. She hefted it, feeling its weight.
“Perfect,” she murmured.
She returned, standing beside the platform, letting the weight of the mallet’s head rest atop his bruised flesh. His body began to tremble in a series of uncontrollable tremors in fear of what was to come. He craned his neck, trying his best to watch Amber’s movements between his legs.
“You’ve probably realized by now that Natalie’s made an improvement to the immobilizer since the last time you tried it out. It’s this little thing right here.” Amber gave the metal platform between Jim’s legs a gentle tap with the mallet. “It keeps everything nice and in place. You might be able to feel it, but if not, your testicles are currently resting in a small metallic bowl. Natalie’s designed this bowl to prevent your slippery little gonads from squirting out of the way. Which, as you’re about to find out, leaves them perfectly exposed.”
Jim gave a terrified grunt when, to illustrate her point, she gently bounced the tip of the mallet on his aching scrotum.
“I’ve seen the video of the last time you were in the immobilizer. Something tells me this is going to be a bit more painful for you.”
He couldn’t speak. He could barely even strain his head to watch. He held his breath as she raised the mallet high, her muscles tightening. The world slowed to that ascending arc.
She held the mallet still at shoulder height for a moment, savoring Jim’s frightened state.
Then, suddenly, she swung it down as hard as she could.
There was only a small “whump” sound when the mallet made contact, but the impact was direct and devastating. Effectively trapped in place by the metallic platform, each gonad had no option but to compress in a deep, sickening way that drove the breath from Jim’s lungs in a forceful groan. A fresh, seismic wave of agony radiated out from the epicenter, drowning the previous pain in a flood of the new, overwhelming sensation of his delicate gonads getting flattened underneath heavy rubber. Trapped by the cold steel platform, they had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No way to escape the traumatizing force of the mallet.
“See? He loves it,” Nicole murmured from somewhere in the swirling dark at the edge of his vision.
As Jim’s body convulsed against the straps in a violent, untamed writhing, Nicole leaned back with a smirk.
“I heard he squeals like a pig if you do three in a row.”
Amber’s eyes lit up.
“Let’s test that hypothesis.”
She didn’t let Jim’s pained wails subside even a little. The mallet rose and fell again with a ruthless, rhythmic efficiency.
Whump. The rubber head flattened his vulnerable flesh against the cold steel plate. Jim’s back arched so severely the bench creaked in protest.
Whump. The second strike landed as the first’s echo still vibrated in the damp air. Jim felt a horrifying “crunch” sensation in his left testicle and swore it was split in two.
Whump. A sound tore loose from his throat – a high, ragged, entirely involuntary shriek that scraped his vocal cords raw. It was a desperate, animal noise, utterly stripped of humanity.
Amber laughed, a bright, genuine sound of delight. “A perfect B-flat!”
The mallet’s dense, terrible pressure seemed to echo inside him long after Amber lifted it away. Jim rode the wave, a silent scream now trapped behind his teeth, his body vibrating with the aftershocks. The whimpers that finally escaped were thin and ragged, more like the whine of a broken machine than a human sound.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying desperately to fight the nausea.
“Aw, he’s savoring it,” Nicole observed, tilting her head. She leaned over and poked his heaving shoulders with a manicured finger. “Look at him tremble. Like jelly.”
“He’s got spirit, I’ll give him that. Based on the way he’s crying like a little bitch, though, I don’t think he has balls of steel.”
“He needs a proper name for tomorrow,” Nicole said, leaning back. “Something that fits his undercover role.”
Jim tried to focus on their words, using them as an anchor against the drowning pain.
“‘Crybaby’ is overused,” Amber mused, tapping her chin. “‘Punching bag,’ maybe?”
“How about ‘Target Practice’?” Nicole offered.
“I like the idea.” Amber’s green eyes gleamed as she looked down at Jim’s broken form. “But it’s not all of him we’re after. It’s just those two little jewels he’s so fond of.”
Nicole’s smile was slow and wicked.
“I’ve got it! Ball bitch.”
“Ball bitch,” Amber repeated, testing the sound. She grinned. “It’s perfect. Direct. Humiliating. Accurate.” She leaned close to Jim’s ear, her voice a sugary venom. “You hear that, ball bitch? That’s you now.”
The nickname slithered into his brain, another kind of violation. It settled there, ugly and permanent.
“Ball bitch it is. Now, let’s see if you can handle what comes next.”
Without another word, Amber lifted herself up onto the small platform between Jim’s legs; the same platform in which his aching sack was trapped. She balanced on the absolute outer edge of the platform, her left foot barely a millimeter away from his tender gonads, her right foot planted firmly on his lower back, and tossed the mallet to the side. It tumbled to the floor with a firm “thud.”
Jim began shivering with nervous anticipation as she positioned the toes of her left foot on top of his swollen testicles. The ache from the brutal assault with the mallet was just starting to subside the tiniest amount, but he knew his relief was going to be short-lived. Tied down as he was, unable to move an inch with balls served up on a silver platter to a brutal bitch, he was exquisitely aware of just how vulnerable he was.
“Please …”
Amber paused briefly, like a predator playing with her food before eating it.
“Please, what? Use your words, ball bitch.”
“Please … please flatten my balls.”
Both girls smiled, impressed by his complete and total submissiveness.
“See? I told you he wasn’t like most men. Even after all that, he still has his manners.”
“Don’t worry; this will break him for sure.”
Slowly, deliberately, Amber placed her full weight onto the swollen, darkened mass of Jim’s scrotum. She settled onto the ball of her left foot, using her toes with a ballet dancer’s precision to ensure the demolition of the manhood underneath her. The small curvature of the bowl within the platform ensured neither of his tender, aching testicles had anywhere to hide. They were effectively trapped in place, forced to bear the full brunt of Amber’s brutal assault.
A sound erupted from Jim that was less a scream and more a systemic failure, a high-pitched, continuous wire of agony torn from a place deeper than his lungs. His body spasmed against the restraints, hands fluttering like trapped birds.
“The party is tomorrow, ball bitch,” Amber said, her voice conversational above his wailing. She shifted her weight, enjoying the grinding pressure beneath her foot. “You’re my plus-one.”
He couldn’t hear her, lost as he was in a universe of compression and rupture.
She leaned forward, increasing the pressure.
“A Femme Fatales mixer. And you’re going as my bitch.” Jim’s eyes rolled back, his cries reducing to wet, desperate hitches. “Our sisters-to-be won’t be gentle.”
She rocked her foot side to side, a tenderizer on tenderized meat.
“So, consider this boot camp. Deep down in your core, you need to understand something before we walk in there.” She paused, smiling down at his writhing form. “You are my bitch, and I will do anything and everything I want to you.”
She shifted her weight forward, letting the full, deliberate pressure of her body settle through the arch of her foot and into the devastated flesh beneath. Jim’s back seized off the bench despite his restraints, a bridge of pure strain, as the world dissolved into a single point of liquid, crushing fire.
“See? He’s breathing through it,” Nicole encouraged, her tone almost proud.
“Good boy.” The pressure increased incrementally, a slow-motion collapse. She cruelly twisted her foot back and forth, and he could feel the separate, battered orbs flattening while her toes explored the delicate limits of his manhood with a horrifying intimacy. His vision swam with tears of raw physiological overload, his mouth a silent scream.
“It’s just ballbusting,” Nicole murmured, a dark parody of a coach. “Don’t act like you’ve never had your balls busted before.” Amber smiled, pivoting her heel, and the new angle sent a brilliant, sickening jolt straight into his spine. A broken, wet sob finally escaped him.
“There we go, ball bitch” Amber cooed, listening to the sound. “Let it all out.” She settled in, comfortable, deciding to stay awhile.
The pressure was a constant, grinding horizon of pain. Then, without warning, his entire nervous system detonated.
A violent, electric convulsion wrenched his spine into a rigid arch, his heels drumming a frantic tattoo against the stone. His head snapped back, teeth bared in a silent rictus as muscles he no longer controlled fired in a catastrophic chain reaction.
“That’s it, ball bitch. Break for me.” Amber laughed, riding out the tremor beneath her foot like a surfer. “Let your whole body process just how weak and pathetic you are.”
The seizure crested, leaving him gasping and twitching in the damp aftermath. Before he could even draw a full breath, a second, more intense wave seized him. This one rolled through his abdomen, a series of brutal, jackknifing cramps that crushed the air from his lungs in wet, choking sounds.
Nicole crouched down, her head tilted with academic curiosity.
“I think the mallet really got things buzzing in there.” She poked his spasming back with a cold finger. “You’re all jumbled up inside, huh, Jim?”
His body answered with another rigid arch, a guttural groan leaking past his clenched jaw.
“My feet don’t seem to be making things any better,” Amber observed, applying even more weight by balancing on the tips of her toes.
The convulsions began to subside into pathetic, fluttering tremors. Jim lay spent, his vision blurred, each breath a shuddering victory. A thin line of saliva connected his lips to the floor below.
“Aw, is the little ball bitch all tuckered out?” Nicole cooed, wiping his chin with mock sympathy.
Amber finally stepped down, relieving the catastrophic weight. Jim gasped at the sudden, hollow absence of pressure, a phantom agony blooming in its place.
She didn’t let the relief settle. In one fluid motion, she straddled his back, her weight pinning his pelvis to the leather bench, as if the restraints weren’t enough. Her hands snaked beneath him, her fingers finding the familiar, devastated terrain of his scrotum.
“I know you probably want to cradle them in your hands right now,” she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. Her skin was warm against his sweat-chilled back. “Since you’re all tied up, let me take care of that for you.”
Her grip was not the vicious, crushing clamp from before, but something infinitely worse: a possessive, almost tender hold. She cradled the swollen, hyper-sensitive mass in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the feverish skin. Jim whimpered, a high, pathetic sound stuck in his throat, as the deliberate contact sent ribbons of fire through his nervous system.
“They’re so hot,” she murmured, as if examining fruit. “And soft. That last bit must have really hurt.”
She applied the faintest increase of pressure, a suggestion of a squeeze. Jim’s body jolted beneath her, a fresh tear tracking through the grime on his cheek.
“Shh,” she soothed, rocking slightly on his back. “I’ve got them.”
Her whisper was a mockery of comfort. She waited, letting the faint stroking of her thumb become his entire world.
Jim’s breath hitched, a wet rattle in his chest. The words clawed their way up a ruined throat.
“Thank you,” he choked, the sound barely recognizable as language.
Amber’s fingers contracted. The tender hold became a firm, promising vice. The fire in his groin flared into a concentrated inferno.
He gasped, his spine twisting against her weight.
“Thank you,” he forced out again, faster, a desperate attempt to placate the building storm.
Her hand became iron. All pretense of a caress vanished, replaced by pure, compressive malice. The swollen tissue protested with a deep, sickening ache that vibrated into his stomach.
“Thank you,” he chanted now, a broken mantra through gritted teeth, “thank you, thank you, thank…”
She squeezed as hard as she possibly could.
Her entire arm shook with the strain. The world whited out. Something fibrous and deep gave way with a sensation that was less a sound and more a final, internal collapse. His continuous chant melted into a single, elongated vowel of pure, silent agony, his mouth frozen wide, his eyes seeing nothing.
Her thumbs worked with a sickening precision, probing past the bruised surface to knead the liquefied ruin beneath. Each movement was an exploration of total conquest, a mapping of fractures and yielding pulp. Jim’s cries were rhythmic now, a broken, wet soundtrack to her investigation. They bore no resemblance to the “thank you” chant he had managed just a few moments ago.
She somehow squeezed even harder, savoring the way his entire body shuddered in response. A fresh, hot tear traced a clean path down his cheek. His agency, his wit, his training – all of it was just nerve endings now, firing useless signals into the void.
She kept squeezing, and before long, Jim was openly weeping. His entire world was reduced to the concentrated eruption of suffering at his midsection, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was completely powerless. There was nothing he could do to protect himself. The restraints kept his arms away and legs forced apart, and Amber quite literally held his manhood in the palm of her hands. He was fully at her mercy, and she had none.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she let go.
It took several seconds for Jim’s breath to return. It was as if he were frozen in place, so overwhelmed by the totality of Amber’s abuse that he couldn’t move or breathe.
Then, in an instant, his mind began processing just how badly he had been hurt. This time, he didn’t scream, yell, or thrash about. His body simply fell limp and he wept. Tears streamed down his face as he quite literally cried over his broken balls.
“Oh god … oh god …”
Amber flashed a predatory smile, knowing her prey had finally been conquered.
“God? She won’t help you now, ball bitch.”
Jim continued crying, oblivious to the girls’ mockery.
“You’ve … you’ve … broken them … my balls … you broke my balls …” A steady stream of tears and snot streaked down his face. Amber’s grin widened, enjoying the feeling of superiority from breaking yet another man.
“Yes, I did break your balls. They belong to me, remember? I can do anything I want to them.”
All conscious thought was gone from his mind. Gone was the mission. Gone was his training. The only thing that remained was the horrible, thudding ache in his midsection.
“Please … please … I can’t … my balls.”
Nicole frowned, only half pretending to be annoyed.
“Come on, Jim. We’ve been training you for ages! You should be able to take this by now.”
Jim shook his head back and forth, tears still streaming down his face.
“No … no … please … mercy …”
Amber smiled from ear to ear while Nicole pouted in feigned defeat.
“What’s that I hear? My poor little ball bitch wants mercy? There’s just one little problem …”
Jim just continued to weep; his body still wracked by her recent onslaught.
“You’re all tied up. You can’t go anywhere. Even after all your whining and fuss, your precious little family jewels are still served up so nicely for me...” She gave his bruised scrotum a gentle slap to drive home her point. She barely used any force at all, but still the impact sent a shiver of pain racing across Jim’s body.
“Now that I know you’re broken and desperate, it’s going to get even more fun.”
Jim just shook his head “no,” fighting back a mixture of agony from the devastation he had already experienced and horror in anticipation of the devastation that was still to come.
Amber let go of Jim’s bruised ballsack, letting it fall back into place on the metal platform with a soft *plink*, and got up from where she had been sitting on his back. She stood behind him between his spread legs and bent down, gently running her fingers up and down the length of his back.
“There’s this special technique I have … I’m told it’s excruciatingly painful. I think it will be just the thing to punish you for daring to ask for mercy.” Her voice was a confident and cruel whisper as she slowly but steadily lowered her knee on top of his trapped scrotum, gently resting it there and placing her hands on his back for balance
Jim couldn’t control himself. Every last nerve ending in his battered and swollen testicles was screaming bloody murder, already worked way past its breaking point. But he knew there was nothing he could do. No way to protect whatever was left of his fragile reproductive organs. No way to cover up. His balls were trapped in position, served to Amber on a silver platter between his legs, and his limbs were tied down and fully immobilized. However badly he was hurting, he knew he was still vulnerable and exposed for more abuse. Abuse he knew Amber was all too happy to deliver.
“Oh fuck … oh fuck … please … no …”
“No? No? I think yes. My knee has an appointment with your future children.”
With that, Amber lifted her foot off the floor and began balancing most of her weight on her knee, which in turn was balancing on Jim’s swollen nutbag.
The effect was predictable and immediate. Jim swore he felt something “crunch” deep inside him and involuntarily emitted a raw, ripped-from-the-roots scream that had nothing to do with his training and everything to do with his looming castration. His body convulsed with a seismic jolt that made the heavy bench slide across the matted floor as he tried to arch away from the horrifying pressure of Amber’s knee.
His efforts were of no use, of course. In fact, his pained convulsions made Amber lean forward, laying her palms flat on his quivering back for balance and settling even more of her weight on his devastated manhood. Beneath her kneecap, his swollen tissue flattened with a sickening, malleable resistance, like two bugs being crushed under her weight. Jim could only gasp, fighting as he was against the overwhelming tsunami of agony she was causing him.
"That’s it, Jim. Feel it. Accept it. You are my bitch, and your balls belong to me."
Amber began rocking slowly and deliberately from side to side. Each subtle movement caused her bony knee to explore a new area within his ruined manhood. It was as if her patella was surveying the liquefied damage created earlier by the mallet and her hands.
Whatever was left of Jim’s world dissolved into the granular texture of pain, and a bright, central fire spread through his lower spine with every lateral shift of her weight.
Nicole watched with genuine enjoyment as Amber slowly crushed the life out of Jim’s nuts, laughing at the faces and sounds he was making.
“You’ll have to forgive ball bitch, here. He’s used to being the big, strong man who can take anything. You’re forcing him to … come to terms, I’d say, with a few things.”
Amber increased the rhythm, her knee becoming a relentless, grinding pestle. A broken, staccato sob was the only sound Jim could manage, each rock punctuating a gasp. She watched the back of his head, the tendons in his neck standing in sharp relief.
“Do you think he’s getting it?” Amber inquired of Nicole.
Jim’s writhing reached a frenzied, pathetic peak, his limbs straining until the leather creaked in protest. Tears and spit spattered the floor beneath his contorted face.
"A bit more should do the trick!" Nicole said, laughter coloring her words. “We need to make absolutely sure he’s ready for tomorrow.”
"You heard the boss," Amber said, leaning forward to whisper in Jim’s ear. Her voice was low and intimate against the sounds of his suffering, and by leaning forward, she shifted her weight subtly to flatten yet another part of Jim’s brutalized nutsack. The pressure became absolute, a final, settling weight that promised permanence, and his screams died into a silent, open-mouthed void as he struggled to comprehend the totality of his destruction.
"We need to make sure that you fully understand that you’re my bitch."
Amber leaned back, pulling away from Jim’s ear and using her rounded, bony knee like a rolling pin on the swollen mush between Jim’s legs. She started shifting her weight backwards and forwards, a slow, deliberate piston driven by her hips. The broad surface of her kneecap rolled over the devastated landscape of his scrotum with a terrible, thorough precision. Each forward grind mashed the sensitive, ruined tips of his testicles against the unyielding metal plate beneath; each backward drag pinned the bottoms, forcing them to absorb the full force of her weight.
Jim had experienced ‘devastating’ before, thanks to his role at the BIA. He had taken hard kicks where it counted. Vicious and experienced ballbusters had squeezed his testicles, stood on them, stomped on them, and more. This was somehow worse than it all. He was tied down, arms and legs restrained, unable to move even an inch. His family jewels had been horrifically beaten and were now strapped in place, served up in a metal bowl to a nasty bitch. And that nasty bitch was taking her sweet time ensuring that every single nanometer of his manhood got properly flattened.
Amber felt a wet, crunching sensation beneath her knee, which seemed to be the collapse of whatever structural integrity had survived the mallet. This prompted a new round of screaming and wailing from Jim, a hoarse, rhythmic sound that matched her movements. His body could do nothing but conduct this raw signal of pain.
“That’s it, ball bitch, sing for us. Sing us the song of your people!”
Nicole, lying naked on the ground in front of Jim, couldn’t help herself. She watched his face, twisted and glistening, his mouth a perfect ‘O’ of endless torment. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She slipped a finger between her own legs to pleasure herself, her gaze fixed on his agony. Her hips gave a slight, reflexive curl against the cold floor.
“They’re going to love him tomorrow,” Nicole murmured, her voice thick with arousal. “He’s perfect for this assignment.”
His screaming hitched, transforming into a broken, accepting sob. Amber stopped rocking forwards and backwards, opting now to swivel her knee back and forth right in the swollen, aching center of his swollen sack. The motion was a focused, sawing grind, as if she was twisting and turning the contents of his soul.
Amber adjusted the position of her hands on Jim’s back for maximum leverage as each swirl of her knee crushed his battered man meat under her patella. A new, sharper type of fire ignited, cutting through the deep throb. It felt like coarse sandpaper was being applied directly to his rawest nerves. His body went rigid, then slack, all fight utterly dissolved.
The swiveling became slower, more deliberate, a cruel demonstration of control. Jim could only drool onto the leather, his mind a blank, white slate of suffering. He didn’t have a name, a mission, or a past anymore. His whole world was reduced to the hellacious, soul-consuming ache between his legs.
Finally, at long last, Amber decided Jim was sufficiently flattened and got down. His breath returned in one long gasp as both his lungs and his nuts reinflated at the same time. Even though the pressure was relieved, he kept spasming in his restraints. The devastation Amber wrought had settled deep in his bones; he was going to be wracked by her agony for a long time to come.
“I told you I’d break you.”
Jim couldn’t form words even if he wanted to. He just sobbed gently and rode the waves of suffering brought by Amber’s ruthless knee, trying to hold on for dear life to consciousness.
Amber reached down and pulled the aching remains of Jim’s testicles out of the small bowl in the platform where they had been trapped. He gasped involuntarily, body tense, as he felt her fingers wrap around his manhood once again, gently exploring the depths of the damage she had caused. She hardly used any pressure at all, but after everything he had just been through, it was more than enough to start another five-alarm fire in his nervous system.
“You're a real mess down here.” She glanced at Nicole, who was still touching herself, her breath coming faster. “They’re quite swollen and very hot to the touch. He must be aching something fierce.”
Jim just let out a long, slow cry of despair, knowing that nothing could save him from experiencing whatever torment Amber wanted to deliver. His body shook in his restraints, a mixture of pain and nervous anticipation, as she massaged his swollen orbs with her fingers.
“Don’t worry, though, ball bitch. They’re both still whole. We haven’t done anything permanent to you. Yet.”
Nicole kept working her fingers deep inside her folds, pleasuring herself to the sounds of Jim’s total vulnerability. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as he suffered.
Amber rearranged Jim’s sack in her hands, now holding both swollen nuggets in the palm of her left hand. She used her right hand to remove the platform that had been between Jim’s legs, then let go of his scrotum and let it dangle freely. He let out a soft gasp of relief as he felt his manhood slip out from between her dangerous fingers without any further assault.
Once Jim was positioned properly, Amber stood up and walked over to the wall to select her final torture implement. Jim let out a frightened yelp when she settled on the familiar yet menacing wooden baseball bat. She swung it menacingly into her palm as she strutted back to Jim, looking down at him like a predator looks at prey after the kill.
“How’re you doing, slugger? Able to form words yet?”
He opened his mouth, trying to form words but still too spent from her earlier onslaught to do so. Nicole couldn’t help but taunt him while slicking her fingers back and forth between her legs.
“I know you’re all proud of your big pair, but Amber really got you good, didn’t she?”
Jim just nodded, still unable to make coherent, audible sounds. His entire body was shivering, partly from the pain inflicted by Amber’s knee and partly in terrified anticipation of what was still to come.
“This is what normal men feel like, Jim-bo, when they get kicked in the balls. And now that we’ve torn down your defenses, in a minute, you’ll learn how a normal man feels when he gets hit in the balls really fucking hard by a baseball bat.”
Amber gently tapped the underside of his scrotum, which was visibly swollen and bruised, with the firm wood of the bat’s barrel. Jim jumped in his restraints, panting heavily in relief that this was just a light touch and not a home run blow.
“Any manners left, ball bitch? Or have I beaten them out of you?”
“P… pl… please …” It was all he could do to choke out the word.
“Please? Please what? Please beat your balls again, only harder? Please swing this bat as hard as you can into my nutsack?”
Jim shook his head side to side in fear, a mixture of sweat and spittle dripping off his chin as he did so.
“Pl… please … gentle …”
“Gentle? Gentle? No, ball bitch, I will not be gentle. In fact, I’m going to swing as hard as I possibly can. Your balls belong to me, remember? I can do anything I want to them.” She stood sideways relative to Jim, holding the bat at her shoulder like she was going to swing for the fences. “And, right now, I want to shatter them like vases.”
With no further warning, she swung the bat with all her might. She swung it more like a golf club than a baseball bat to ensure that the solid wood of the barrel crushed whatever was left of his plums against his underside. She had clearly practiced the maneuver before, because she swung her hips and created drive using her legs with practiced precision. The bat whipped through the air with a terrifying whoosh.
When the wooden barrel connected with the swollen mess between Jim’s legs, it was devastating. Two balls, one catastrophic strike.
The *splat* sound of everything slapping together hung in the air as all the overworked nerve endings in his shattered marbles fired off even more agonized signals to the rest of his body. Nicole watched Jim’s face, fingers still furiously rubbing her clit, as he appeared to experience a full system reboot. At first, the only part of him that seemed to process the destruction was his eyes. They bugged out of his head, shocked by just how badly he was hurting, while the rest of him was temporarily frozen in place.
Then, a second or two later, his body was rocked by a seismic shockwave of pain that was somehow even worse than anything he had just experienced. He opened his mouth to scream but found himself unable to make a sound; Amber’s bat had violently ripped the oxygen from his lungs. He suffered silently, writhing and thrashing about as best he could while tied down in the restraints and fighting a losing battle to cling to consciousness.
While Jim struggled to moan in agony, Nicole moaned in pleasure as her fingers worked away and she enjoyed the supreme display of female dominance before her. Her legs began quivering ever so slightly as she approached an orgasm.
“He looks so pretty when he breaks.”
Finally, a sound came out of Jim. Every muscle in his body was violently and involuntarily contracted, fighting hard to go nowhere in particular. In addition to being completely debilitating and an undeniable sign that Amber had rocked every corner of his world, it also made it exceedingly difficult for him to breathe because it felt like every girl in the BIA was simultaneously standing on top of his lungs. As a result, when he tried to inhale, he found that he could hardly breathe at all. And when he could suck down some oxygen, it came with a loud, horrifying raspy sound. A sound that made both girls giggle.
“What the hell was that, ball bitch? Are you trying to summon Cthulhu?”
Amber leaned on the baseball bat like a makeshift cane as she looked down at Jim’s spasming form with an amused and satisfied smirk.
“That’s the sound of a man realizing the full extent of his weakness and inferiority.”
Nicole stood up off the ground, temporarily pausing the rhythmic rubbing of her fingers to sit on Jim’s back.
“Would you be a dear, Amber, and do another one? I want to ride the bull this time.” Once positioned on Jim’s back, she placed one hand between her legs, directly over her clit, and the other on the back of Jim’s neck – partly for balance, partly to feel his every quiver and shake as he rocked in pain.
“Of course! I’ll make this one extra nasty so you can really enjoy it.”
If Jim were capable of conscious thought at that moment, he probably would’ve wondered what she meant by “extra nasty.” After her first swing of the bat, he might as well have renamed his testicles Hiroshima and Nagasaki because it felt like she had dropped nuclear bombs on them. He wasn’t capable of conscious thought, though. It was all he could do to fight losing battles to suck down oxygen and stay conscious.
Amber reassumed her swinging position with the bat, going through the motions slowly to line up her swing.
“For you to be properly prepared for tomorrow’s mixer, I need you to be genuinely scared walking around with those things swinging around down there.” She gently tapped the bruised underside of his scrotum with the tip of the bat to accentuate her point.
“Of course, we could’ve just talked about how each one of them is filled with many, many nerve endings. More nerve endings than seems appropriate for them to have. And we could’ve just talked about how all of those nerve endings are wired straight into your digestive system, meaning you feel physically sick whenever they get hurt. But after talking with your boss, we felt it would be more effective if we showed you.”
With that, Amber swung the bat once again with the control and power of a pro golfer swinging their driver.
The heavy wooden barrel of the bat reconnected with Jim’s underside with vicious precision and an ominous *splat*. It was a deep, brutal hammer blow driving everything upwards, to the point that he was momentarily lifted airborne even within the restraints. It felt like the bat went straight through whatever shattered remains were left from his testicles and split his pelvis wide open.
For a few seconds, it was as if Jim had been possessed by the devil after descending through many levels of hellacious testicular torment. White fire exploded behind his eyes. His scream ripped out, raw and guttural, like a man possessed, shredding his throat. His body jackknifed violently against the unyielding ropes, shoulders and hips screaming in protest as his body was flooded with adrenaline that it could do nothing with. He thrashed wildly, uselessly, his entire body snapped taut against the ropes, and his spine arched impossibly around Nicole’s weight.
On his back, Nicole also spasmed as if she were possessed, but in contrast to Jim’s pained convulsions underneath her, her spasms came from a place of pleasure. She threw her head back and rubbed her clit furiously, welcoming the oncoming orgasm and moaning in pleasure as she rode out the total annihilation of the man she was currently using as a stool.
Then, suddenly, Jim fell still. Like someone flipped his “off” switch. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the nuclear firestorm of detonation where his groin used to be. It felt like his insides were pulped, liquefied, a searing mass of raw nerve endings screaming into a void. He was utterly, completely broken.
He didn’t stand a chance when she swung the bat for a third time. She swung with pure, explosive power and bad intentions. Before he had a chance to process the severity of his destruction, his vision went black, and he mercifully slipped unconscious.
He came to, several minutes later, with a startle. For one brief, beautiful moment, he didn’t realize where he was. He didn’t remember the overwhelming devastation that had caused him to pass out in the first place.
Then, in an instant, it all came rushing back. He felt the rush of agony pulsating out from his midsection and spreading throughout his entire body. He started to double over, folding in half involuntarily to protect his crotch, only to find he was once again tied down. Now, though, he was tied in a sitting position to a wooden chair, with his legs spread and his arms trapped behind his back.
Jim looked around, trying his best to see through the tears in his eyes. Much to his surprise, he saw that Nicole and Amber had been joined by Taylor and another woman he didn’t recognize, and all four women were sitting in a circle around him. And, for some reason, they were all completely naked.
A sudden rush of pain in his nutsack caused him to look down. He realized Amber’s feet were between his legs, using his swollen scrotum as a footstool. She wasn’t pressing down particularly hard, but after everything he had been through earlier, just the weight of her feet and lower legs was more than debilitating. He wheezed as she fluttered her feet and the air was forced from his lungs.
“Oh, good, you’re awake! Now the briefing can begin.”
“If you thought that was bad, you haven’t seen anything yet!”
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