Disclaimer:  These stories are a work of fiction.  All of the characters depicted are at least 18 years old.  None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted.  

Intro: This story concept is based on real tribal "coming of age" ritual's like wearing gloves filled with fire ants, scarification, bungee jumping, or getting whipped at dance parties. You can google those, they are all real. This one obviously isn't, but draws loose inspiration from those.

Previous Chapters

• Chapter 1: My first duel (Tribal, Brutal, M/M)
• Chapter 2: My second duel (Tribal, Brutal, FM/M)

Maiden Duel Chapter 3: The Third Duel

My name is Teeko, and I’m a member of the Sorsac tribe. I woke up the morning after my second duel with my whole body aching—especially my balls, swollen and raw. The sheets clung to me, stiff with dried blood and sweat. I couldn’t move without wincing.

Through the wall, Father’s voice came low and harsh. “That scream—like a girl. The village calls him the best Thulak in years.”

Kael laughed, easy. “Yeah. Everyone’s talking—‘Teeko the girl.’ But he’s our Thulak too.”

A cold weight dropped into my stomach. Thulak. Everyone in the tribe knew the word, though no one ever said it to your face unless you were already finished. It meant the chosen loser—the man mothers picked on purpose because he would scream, bleed, and finally release the handles. The entertainment. The one who never earned a wife. And now my own father and brother were calling me that. The shame burned hotter than the pain in my balls. My family had given up on me.

After the laughter died down, Kael spoke quieter: “Mother, Father, I need moonroot. My wife’s spotting. The Witch says without it, the baby won’t make it. I can't afford it, and I know you can't either, but I was hoping you could help somehow.”

Mom answered steadily: “We will find a way.”

Father grunted. “Focus on your line. Your brother Teeko is just the tribe’s punchline, now, so you must succeed for the family.”

Mom added, softer: “Teeko’s young. He might still prove useful.” But her words sounded thin.

I lay there, face hot. Not just family—the whole village saw me as a fool. 

The next morning, Mom slipped into the room. She sat on the edge of the bed and rested her hand lightly on my knee. “Your father and Kael think you’re weak. The village laughs. The only way back is to prove to everyone tonight—duel for Lira. Endure it. Win it. Show them you’re no Thulak.” She met my eyes. “For us.”

Thulak.  I can’t be a Thulak.  Anything to avoid being a Thulak. “I’ll go.”

The ceremonial ground buzzed. The Old Witch and Lira carried the platter out—Pain-Sticks all wrapped the same, built secret in the woods. They climbed the platform and set it down. The chanting died.

The Witch spoke clearly: “Tonight Lira finishes her thirty days. Remove your clothes, new woman—show what you offer.”

Lira dropped her wrap. She was unattractive, her breasts were mismatched, but her hips were wide for babies. Her appearance gave me hope.

I looked at her and thought: Unattractive girl from a family with a bad reputation, maybe I won’t have competition.

“Men—who would duel?”

I stepped in—limping, chin high. The young trader followed—a soft pudgy man with no hunting prowess. A few others joined as well.

I looked at the trader: Weak man… but from a very wealthy family. If the mother picked him, I had a good chance.

“Seekers—strip. Present honestly.”

We did. Trader’s nuts looked fresh far too round to be a warrior's manhood; mine were bruised and puffy. Murmurs rose from the crowd seeing the state of my testicles.  It was nearly unheard of for a seeker to enter a competition before fully recovered.

The Witch turned to the married women: “Mother—evaluate.”

Lira’s mother moved down the line. She felt arms, touched chests—then grasped balls. When she reached me, she squeezed hard and jerked twice. Pain shot through me. “Still tender. Good.” With the trader, she was gentle. Mom nodded at her—like a deal. I ignored it.

“I choose Teeko and Trader.” Cheers—mocking, but mixed.

We climbed the platform. The Hukineekee closed around our balls—the wooden boards trapping them out front, locked tight. No escape. My hands gripped the handles.

Lira stepped to the altar.

“The Duel begins. Lira—choose.”

She picked me first. She handed me a Pain-Stick—heavy and solid in my grip.

“Gong.” I swung hard. The head thudded into Trader’s testicles. He grunted, knees buckling a little. The crowd hushed.

She took it back and gave him one—same weight, I figured.

“Gong.” Trader swung well. The impact jolted my balls—dull ache spreading through my sack. I held steady.

We traded like that for five rounds. Each gong, I landed solid on his nuts; his yelps grew sharper. When he swung, my testicles took the the pain, already sore, now the pain was much worse, but I remained silent.. Slowly, the chants changed from: "Thulak... Thulak... To  “Teeko… Teeko…” it gave me hope I could win.

Lira smiled—real. “Tougher than they say,” she whispered.

Lira handed me a stick that was a bit lighter than before.  "Gong" I swung and connected.  Bright spots of red blood grew from Traders nuts where the brambles penetrated skin.

"Gong." Trader's return swing seemed to briefly melt into my testicles before a lightning bolt of white pain nearly broke my stoic composure.

My next stick felt heavy. "Gong" I swung, and watched traders nuts flatten, his body tensed at the pan.

Then Lira’s mother flicked her wrist—sharp, deliberate. Lira’s face fell. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then obeyed her mother.

She handed me a light stick. “Gong.” I swung at Trader’s balls, but the head barely brushed them. The blow did almost nothing.

“Gong.” Trader swung heavily. His stick slammed into my already damaged testicles, flattening them against the wooden board. Fresh blood welled up from the reopened scabs and ran down the wood of the Hukineekee.

She gave me another light stick. “Gong.” My swing at Trader’s nuts was weak and useless.

“Gong.” Trader swung hard again. The blow crushed my swollen balls, driving the thorns deeper. I gasped, the sound high and broken.

Light stick again. “Gong.” My swing at Trader’s sack was pathetic.

“Gong.” He hammered my testicles with full force. My balls felt like they had been pulped. Blood ran down the wood of the Hukineekee.

“Gong.” My swing did nothing.

“Gong.” Trader’s heavy stick smashed into my sack once more. My testicles felt destroyed under the impact. I couldn’t stop the scream that tore out of me—shrill and girlish.

“Trader’s turned Teeko into a girl!” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Gong.” I swung the feather stick. It was useless.

“Gong.” A heavy blow landed. My balls felt no longer like my testicles, but rather an aura of pain that inhabited me like a demonic spirit..

“Gong.” I swung.  Pathetic.

“Gong.” Trader slammed my testicles with everything he had. The pain was unbearable.

As yet another useless light stick was pressed into my hand, the truth finally slammed into me. I had seen Lira’s mother give the signal. She had obeyed it instantly. Every stick after that moment had been light for me and heavy for him. The fix had been in from the very beginning. Lira had never been choosing for herself. I was never meant to win. I was only here to bleed and break for the crowd’s amusement. The last spark of hope inside me died.

“Gong.” I swung a feather stick. My swing was hopeless.

“Gong.” Another heavy swing. My balls felt like they were being ground into paste.

I thrashed wildly in the Hukineekee, shame and agony burning through me. My hands slipped from the handles. I had released.

Lira knelt down and kissed Trader’s balls.  Her lips coming away dotted with blood. Her eyes flicked to me once—apologetic—but it was over.

I collapsed onto the platform as the crowd erupted: “Thulak! Thulak! Thulak!”

Jeers and laughter thundered around me.

Back home, I collapsed into bed. Hours later—still dark—I heard them through the wall. Mom to Father and Kael: “Trader couldn’t beat a real man. That’s why we gave them Teeko—he screamed pretty. Trader’s wealth got us the moonroot. Your wife’s safe. The future of our Family is secure.”

Kael laughed softly: “Thanks to the Thulak.”

I hauled myself up—legs shaking, vision blurring—and burst into the room. “You used me?”

Mom turned, her face cold. “Look at you—you can’t even stand. You’re no man. Certainly no son of mine.”

Father said nothing. Kael looked away.

I stumbled out into the night. Rain hit my face. The village lights faded behind me. I wandered the dark edge of the settlement—pain, rage, and nothing left.

Then shadows moved. The Old Witch stepped out from the trees, eyes sharp.

“Lost boy,” she said, grabbing my wrist. “Come. I’ll forge you.”

I didn’t fight.

Author's Note: I appreciate feedback. Leave a comment if you liked this story. Feel free to suggest future ideas.

Disclaimer:  These stories are a work of fiction.  All of the characters depicted are at least 18 years old.  None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted.  

Previous chapters:

• Chapter 1 (Incest, Discovery, Vice Crushing)

Daddy’s Balls Chapter 2: Hard Balls Thursday

Denise couldn’t get the image of Lizzy’s dad’s balls out of her head. When they were flattened in the vice they were so oddly shaped. Huge in circumference, pale, almost white, but no more than three-quarter inch thick. If that was ‘soft balls’, what could ‘hard balls’ mean? It was scary to be in the orbit of such a weird ritual. The family, unlike any other she had met, was clearly comfortable with the shocking image of Lizzy’s dad naked tied to a coffee table with his testicles flattened.

Lizzy wasn’t interested in having Denise over again after how weird she had been, and how unable to focus on chemistry. But Denise had a plan. She’d kissed Tyson, and implied he could get to 2nd base with her, if he invited her over on Thursday. Tyson was clearly a virgin, and had jumped at the opportunity, but warned Denise that Thursdays are family night, and they would have to play games with his sisters and mom before they could have any alone time.

So now Denise stood on the threshold, the doorway in front of her led to the answer to the mysteries that had plagued her. Tyson’s sweaty palm in hers was pulling her through the doorway after her brief pause. In she went, walking, shoes off in the mud room, coat hung on the coat rack, through the kitchen into the living room. Tyson, now the one not keeping up.

Ruth was sitting on the couch reading a paper, and looked up. “Oh, hi Denise. Did you come to see Lizzy?”

Denise looked at her. A stunningly attractive woman, despite her years. What powers did this woman command to have a husband willing to submit to the agony she had seen only two days prior?

“No. She’s with me. Uh.. we were going to hang out after family night.” Tyson clarifies.

“Tyson, that’s great. I love to see you with a girl, especially a pretty one like Denise here.” She turns to Denise, “Honey, we do family night on Thursday, you are welcome to join us.”

“Sure” Denise says as she tries and fails to play it cool. Anticipation and fear mixing together to give her an otherworldly feeling. “Is tonight ‘hard balls’ or ‘soft balls’?” she asks, hoping that pretending not to know would cover for her intense desire to figure out what-ever ‘hard balls’ meant.

Ruth grins. “It’s ‘hard balls’ tonight honey.” she says, not elaborating. “Now where is that husband of mine?”

Ruth steps to the patio door, and calls out: “John! Are you about ready? We have a guest tonight!”

From outside, Denise hears, “Come on out, I’m almost ready.”

Ruth steps back, and shouts up the stairs. “Girls! Dad is ready for family night.”

“OK Mom” and “Be right down” come from two different voices.

Ruth heads out to the patio, and Denise is tight on her heels eager to solve the mystery.

John is standing pantless just outside. He is pulling on a ball gag, like in movies Denise had seen. John was a scrawny man, with a bushy mustache and a simple jacket, no pants or underwear, and knee length socks that look silly. He wasn’t particularly attractive, and didn’t seem like someone that would have won over Ruth, or produced daughters like Lizzy and April. Maybe it was his ‘magic balls’ Denise thought, and glanced down.

John’s limp penis hung down, but not quite as long as his testicles. Both appeared of average size as well as Denise could tell.

Ball gag in place, John stepped up to a plank of wood that was securely fastened at waist level between two pillars. With a practiced ease, he slid his genitals through a hole in the board, and secured his penis out of the way with some sort of latching mechanism. Then he picked up a small loop sitting on top of the board, and, stretching it, he placed it over his testicles. Then a 2nd loop followed. Now his testicles were tightly bound protruding through the board, and sticking roughly straight out several inches.

Finally, he put his hands to the side. There were cuffs on his wrist, and metal loops protruded upward from the board.

“Alright girls, hook him in.” Ruth ordered.

Lizzy and April each step up to the board, and using a carabiner, clip the shackles to the metal loops. Now John is helpless.

Ruth eyes the situation, and decides that everything is ready, and she steps to a closet, and withdraws a wooden stick about 2 feet long, and ¼ inch thick.

She holds it out to Lizzy, “Youngest goes first”

Lizzy casts an eye at Denise. “Denise is younger.  She is just a freshman. She should go first.”

Ruth holds the stick out to Denise. Denise panics, and takes 2 steps back. “Wha… Wha… What do you want me to do with that?” Stepping back another step she backs into Tyson.

Tyson explains, “We are testing daddy’s ability to make his balls hard. Each person takes 3 swings with the cane. Tonight we have to break 5 canes until we are sure Daddy’s balls are hard enough.”

“But you're a freshman, Too!” Denise exclaims louder than intended. “Why don’t you go first?”

Lizzy looks at Denise, and explains as if it’s a basic concept to a slow pupil. “Tyson has balls. Little boy wussy balls, but still balls. Only those without balls can test balls.”

Ruth tries to hand Denise the stick again. Denise, still terrified, says “No. I can’t. I mean, I can, but I’d prefer to just watch this time.” She looks up at Ruth. “Is that OK?”

“Sure is, sweety” Ruth says, and hands the cane to Lizzy.

Lizzy steps up, and measures her stroke by slowly moving the cane into contact with John’s trapped balls, then she rears back and swings with gusto.  The cane lays a red stripe right across the middle of John’s tightly packaged balls.  

“One” Ruth, April, and Tyson all chant in unison.  Lizzy swings again, and Denise hears a swoosh in the air followed by a thwack as the cane makes contact.  

“Two” the assembled watchers chant.

Swoosh. ThwackDenise marvels at the sounds, and the point of impact, where the cane seems to embed itself briefly into the testicle meat before bouncing away, leaving a clearly visible, angry red welt where it impacted.  

“Three” everyone chants.  Denise tries to chant with them, but is a bit late.

Lizzy eyes her handiwork.  “Still too soft,” she hands the cane off to April.   

As the cane is passed, Denise studies John.  He is in agony.  Thrashing against the immovable piece of wood. Trying desperately to contort his body to find some relief.  His balls are so effectively immobilized that despite his struggles, they remain unmoving displaying the angry red stripes put there by his youngest daughter.

April sizes up her position, and swings.  Swoosh, Thwack.  

“Four”.  This time Denise moves her mouth silently along with the chant.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Five.” Denise joins in quietly—curiosity winning.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.” Denise joins full voice, grinning despite herself. “Still jiggling,” April says, hands it on to Ruth.

Ruth authoritatively takes position, and sizes up her swing. 

Swish, crack.  The cane hits the testicles with an obliterating force, and snaps in half.  

“Whoo!” April and Lizzy are cheering.  

“Good Job Daddy, Only took 7 swings before your balls got harder than the cane.” April praises, but it is clear John can’t hear it.  His struggling is desperate, and animalistic, every inch of his wiry frame is trying to find some way to relieve the pain of his man parts.  His sack sags now, purple creeping in from the edges, skin stretched shiny.

Ruth picks up the next—six-and-a-half millimeters. 

“It’s not over?” Denise asks.  

Ruth looks surprised as if that was a particularly stupid question.  “No, honey, of course not.  He’s got to break all 5 canes, and each one is a little thicker than the last.”  

“It started out as only one cane, but every few years, mommy adds another,” Tyson explains helpfully.   

Ruth swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John's eyes squeeze shut, thighs quiver.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Two.” A sharp hiss—he's breathing ragged.

Lizzy takes over. Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.” Denise is getting in on the chanting with gusto by this point.  Welts darken, stacking.

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Four”

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Five”

“Not hard enough yet.” Lizzy says, as she hands the cane to April.   

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Six”.  A tiny break in the scrotum skin becomes visible, a bright red line against the welted flesh.

“Come on Daddy,” April encourages as she gives the cane to Ruth.  

Swoosh, Thwack.  “Nine”

Swish, crack. The 2nd cane breaks.  April and Lizzy cheer their mom again, while Denise studies the testicles.  Some of the welts have gone from red to black, and many criss cross at this point to create protruding bruises on the cluster of balls.  

John’s energy is clearly waning.  He is pale, and while still struggling, seems to be having difficulty putting in much effort.

“What happens if he passes out?”  Denise asks Ruth, a bit concerned and frightened.  

“Then we wake him up, and keep going,” Ruth says.

“It happens occasionally, sometimes daddy takes little naps,” April adds.

“Here you go mom” Lizzy hands her mom the next cane. seven millimeters.

Ruth swings—Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John gasps, head snaps back, then she politely hands the cane to her youngest daughter.

Lizzy swings. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Four.” His sack compresses flat, rebounds slow.

April. “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Seven.” Purple deepens, veins bulge. Welts grow up on top of other welts creating a mountain range of pain.

Ruth swings. “Eight.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Nine.”

This is fucked up, Denise thought, even as the grin stayed plastered on her face. Why does hearing them count make my stomach flip in the good way?

Swoosh. Thwack. “Ten.”

Lizzy takes over, lining up, and swings. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Thirteen.”  Then Lizzy hands the cane to her sister.

April Swings. “Fourteen.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”

Swish, crack. When the cane lands, a crack is heard.  Denise inspects the punished ball back looking for signs that the testicles broke, but it was the cane instead.  April holds it up proud that she was the one to administer the final blow.

“Fifteen,” Ruth says, calm. “Not your best, John.”

Denise observes John.  His whole body is shaking uncontrollably. She thinks to herself that testicles must be pretty weird if they can make a man vibrate like a washing machine in a spin cycle loaded with shoes. She has no idea the biology at play here, but it is fascinating, she wants to see more.

Ruth calls the fourth—seven-and-a-half millimeters. “April, finish your set.”

April swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.” John twitches hard.

Ruth takes over. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Four.”  Ruth hands it to Lizzy who was distracted, and looking at her phone.

Lizzy lines up “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Seven.”  Then Lizzy gives the cane to April, saying “Beat that sis”

April didn’t see the need to respond with words.  Instead the meaty wet thwack was her response as the cane buried itself into her father’s gonads. 

“Eight.”  the group called out.  Denise realized the chanting made it so much more engaging.  She wondered who came with that, but she didn’t have much time to think because. Swoosh. Thwack.

“Nine!”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Ten.”  

April hands the cane to Ruth.

Ruth swings brutally as if she is trying to cane the board behind john’s balls instead of the balls themselves. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Thirteen.”  

Then it is Lizzy’s turn.. Swoosh. Thwack. 

“Fourteen!”  Denise adds a jubilant tone to her voice as she joins the chant.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”  Streaks of red have appeared from small skin breaks leaking blood.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Sixteen.”

Swish, crack. Lizzy holds up the broken cane to display how she was the one who broke it.

“Sixteen,” April cheers. “Better.”

John was slumped down.  Dangling limply.   The only sign that he was still conscious was the pain spasm after each stroke.  John's shaking had mostly settled down, but his eyes were glazed and his sack was a swollen, veined platter.  A display platform for stacked welts, bruises all sauced in testicle blood..

Denise was amazed.  What was happening was every bit as alien as any lovecraftian horror, and just like those stories she craved more.

Ruth grabs the last cane.  Eight millimeters. Hands it to April saying, “April starts.”

April swings. Swoosh. Thwack. “One.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Two.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Three.”

Then Ruth takes over “Four.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Five.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Six.”

John is barely reacting at all when the cane brutalizes his testicles at this point.  He might be unconscious or even dead.  Denise hoped he wasn’t dead.  

Lizzy sets down her phone to take up the cane Swoosh. Thwack. 

“Seven!” everyone chants.

Swoosh. Thwack. “Eight.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Nine.”  Then she hands the cane to her sister.

April swings, connects with a sickening swap “Ten!”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Eleven.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Twelve.” 

After delivering all 3 strokes of her turn, April spins the cane around, and hands it to her mom, then realizes she got a little bit of her dad’s ball blood on her hand as she does so.  “Ew gross!”  She wipes her hand off on towels that Denise just realized had been there the whole time.  Was it John’s job to lay out towels in case his testicle blood got on his daughters?  That seems insane, but certainly not an escalation from anything else Denise had just witnessed.

Denise lets curiosity and fear overcome social awkwardness.  “Um… Is he dead?”  

Ruth looks at her concerned.  “Oh honey, No.  What kind of people do you think we are that we’d kill a member of our family?”

What kind of people?  Ha!  Denise laughs inside.  What kind of people were they?  They seemed to abuse John’s balls as a matter of routine.  Lizzy is so bored by it, she is scrolling instagram!  What kind of monsters are these people…. And why does Denise want to see more. 

“Ha um. Ha. ha.” Denise laughs unconvincingly.  “Obviously I don’t think… um that you… I mean. That you would kill your husband, but um… He isn’t moving.  Um.. is he maybe unconscious?”  Her voice goes up at the end.

“I don’t think so.” April answers in a way that makes it clear she isn’t fully sure.

Ruth decides actions speak louder than words.  She walks up closer than she has before, and instead of swinging the cane horizontally into the exposed section of John’s testicles that are a bloody mess of welts, she comes up from the bottom, striking a section of ball meat that has mostly escaped abuse to this point. John thrashes from new vectors of pain.  His struggle is weak, but there.

“Thirteen!” April, Lizzy, and Ruth call out.  Tyson looks a little unsure, and Denise is thinking about what that means.  Was there a spot that wakes him up?  What did Ruth just do?  Who are these people?  Denise ponders if she could learn some of Ruth’s tricks.

Ruth swings again from the more traditional angle. Swoosh. Thwack. “Fourteen.”

Swoosh. Thwack. “Fifteen.”

Denise was awestruck.   “How is it that his balls don’t break?” She asks aloud.

Ruth replies, “I’m sure they will some day, but so long as they are able to keep taking the treatments twice a week they are worthy of me.”

“Wow.” Denise says wistfully.

“Daddy has magic balls.  Wussy balls like Tyson’s would have broken years ago.  Isn’t that right Ty?”  Lizzy mocks.

“My balls are going to be just fine when they start taking canings.”  Tyson implores with a sense of doubt creeping into his voice.

April sees an opportunity to gang up on her little brother so says, “Why don’t we make the last cane interesting?  The person who breaks the cane gets to kick little ty-ty in his ballie-wallies 10 times?”

Tyson turns red with embarrassment at the mockery.  

Ruth considers the offer, and deems it fair.  “OK.  Tyson will get 10 kicks from the breaker of the final cane.”

Tyson accepts his fate, but then looks at Denise.  “Mom, would it be OK if Denise competes with the last cane?”

Ruth considers that.  “Of course, Tyson, but only if she wants to, and we will have to up the reward to 20 kicks for the breaker of the cane.”

Fear crosses Tyson’s face, but he looks at Denise, and then back at his mom and nods agreement.

Evaluating her final swing, she turns to Denise. “Your turn, sweetie. Three swings.”

Denise doesn’t realize that she is being addressed, because she is staring at the mass of mangled balls trying to imagine what they looked like at the beginning of the evening.  They don’t even look human any more. 

Ruth steps between Denise and the abused testicles of her husband and says, “Sweety, I think it would be great if you took a turn just to try it out.”    

Denise grabs the cane inspecting it. light, whippy. She swishes it once, then steps in. Swoosh. Thwick. The cane made a little contact.

“Sixteen!” The family cheers her exactly as Ruth promised they would. 

Buoyed by the support, Denise swings harder: Swoosh. Thwack. It doesn’t land on target, instead it deflects from the balls into the board holding them up, and rebounds into the still sensitive underside.  John spasms, a weak cry muffled by the ball gag.  

“Seventeen!” The family cheered her despite her hit not being perfect.

She lines up, determined to not miss again. Swoosh. Thwack, the cane connects solidly, it seems to penetrate a quarter inch into John’s nut meat, and then slowly re-emerge.

The group chants “Eighteen.”, but Denise is staring into the man’s testicles which she had just personally brutalized.  Ruth steps beside her and gently takes the cane from her hand and she steers her to the side, and safety from the next stroke.

With Denise taken care of, Ruth swings with a sharp twist—Swish, crack. Cane breaks.

“Eighteen,” Ruth smiles. “Close, Denise. But I win this round, don’t worry nobody wins their first time up to bat.”

Everyone celebrated except for John who was limp in his bonds, and Tyson who seemed concerned.

Ruth walks over, and starts unbinding her husband, as she works, she calls back “Alright Tyson, mommy gets to kick your balls 20 times. How do you want it? Like a man or like a boy?”

(To Be Continued)

Author's Note: This is a new concept for me. I had a magical journey of discovery into BDSM, and I wanted to tell a story about other people experiencing that journey in a slightly more interesting way. I workshopped many, many ideas, and then ended up on TV Tropes one day on the entry for "But for Me, It Was Tuesday" I hope you enjoy the story. If you do, leave me your thoughts.

Disclaimer: These stories are a work of fiction. None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted.

Here are the previous chapters.

• Chapter 1 (Planning, Threats)
• Chapter 2 (Punching)
• Chapter 3 (Crushing)
• Chapter 4 (hammering)
• Chapter 5,6,7 (Mallet Hits)

Piggy’s Balls Chapter 8: Don’t Screw This Up

Piggy floated through the next morning on autopilot. His balls ached—deep, swollen throbs that spiked every time he crossed his legs in Chemistry—but he didn't mind. The pain had always been worth it. Popularity with a price, sure, but last night with Jodie was different. She wanted him. Called him boyfriend. Gave him a blowjob. It was real for the first time.

He pushed open the front door after classes. The smell of vanilla body spray and pizza crust hit him first. Alexis was on the couch—tiny black shorts, cropped tank, nipples hard against cotton, leg slung over the arm like she owned the room. She looked up from her phone, eyes flicking to his waddle.

"You're limping like you’ve been recently worked over.  What did you do last night?"

Piggy hesitated. He hadn't planned to spill—Jodie felt like his secret—but Alexis's stare pulled it out anyway. "Jodie. She... she went at 'em with a rubber mallet. Then a blowjob after. Said I'm her boyfriend now. For real."

Alexis blinked calculating. Then a slow grin spread. "Jodie? The loudmouth farm girl? Damn. That's... unexpected." She sat up, patting the cushion beside her. "Come sit. Carefully."

He eased down, sack settling heavy between his thighs—purple-mottled, still fat and smooth. She reached over, gave one ball a gentle roll through his shorts. No squeeze, just checking. "Still intact. Good. You've always been tougher than you look."

Piggy beamed despite the ache. "Yeah. It was... nice. She kissed me."

Alexis nodded, but her eyes went distant—planning. "Hey. I need a favor. Big one."

He straightened. Favors from Alexis always meant girls. More hands, more laughs, more chances to be seen. "Sure, what can I do?"

"Karen's bringing Ash tomorrow. Ash—the quiet one with the dark hair? She's... she's special. I want her. Like, want to jump her bones special. And Karen's her best friend—so if Ash feels safe, if the vibe clicks..." She trailed off, biting her lip. "I need you to be perfect. Not just endure—make it fun. Make 'em laugh. Make Ash forget she's ever been scared of guys."

Piggy's chest puffed. This was his lane: the party favor who kept the party going. "I can do that. Wide smiles, no whining. Whatever she throws."

Alexis leaned in, her voice softer. “I know you can. You’ve done it for me a million times.” She gave his balls another light, almost affectionate pat. “If you nail it, I’ll give you a nice long handjob as a reward. But if you fuck up and ruin the night… well, you know I’ll have to make the last crusher session look gentle by comparison.” Her tone stayed warm, almost pleading. “Mostly though, I’m asking because you’re my bestie. We’re a team. I bring the girls, you keep them entertained and coming back. If tomorrow works? Ash might stick around. And if she touches me while she plays with you… I’ll make sure you get touched too. We both win.”

He swallowed. The foolish hope flickered—maybe this time, Alexis would see him as more than the toy. Maybe she'd finally... But he shoved it down.  He had to be the perfect piggy.

"I won't let you down," he said, quiet but sure. "I'll ice 'em tonight. Keep 'em big, smooth. Ready."

She ruffled his hair—big-sister style—then stood, hips swaying toward the kitchen. "Good boy. And if Jodie texts? Tell her you're busy. I need your head clear. This is our night."

Piggy stayed on the couch, hands cupping his tender sack, heart racing. Tomorrow: Ash, Karen, whatever games they brought. He'd smile through every hit. Take every torture, every slap. Because Alexis was his bestie. And deep down, he hoped she’d reward him nicely.  Either way, he needed the girls she pulled in, to keep alive the chance she'd one day turn those eyes on him alone.

He'd be perfect. Because that's what best friends do.

Piggy’s Balls Chapter 9 – “Red Light, Green Light”

Alexis clapped her hands with a big grin. “Piggy, grab the light.”

Piggy pulled out their familiar red-and-green party lamp and turned it on. The big green bulb glowed.

“Rules are simple. Green light means walk toward him. First girl to reach him and touch his balls wins the round and gets to punch them. If the light turns red and you flinch or move, you lose one item of clothing. Only the losers drink at the end of each round. Socks count tonight.”

Karen bounced excitedly. “This is gonna be so much fun! I can’t wait to punch his balls!”

Ash was silent.

Piggy stood against the wall, completely naked from the waist down, his large smooth shaved balls hanging full and resilient, still unmarked for now.

Round 1. Green light.

The three girls lined up. They started walking. When the light flipped to red, Karen wobbled and, seeing Karen falter, Alexis intentionally took an extra step.

“Losers drink,” Alexis said. Karen pulled off her socks. Alexis peeled off her t-shirt, revealing her sheer mesh bra with her long nipples already poking through the fabric, her athletic torso on full display.

Both girls took a shot.

Meanwhile Ash approached Piggy. She studied his testicles, and then carefully lined up and delivered a punch to his meaty ball bag.

His large smooth balls absorbed the blow with a dull thud, the resilient orbs flattening slightly before springing back, a faint pink flush beginning to spread across the shaved skin.

“Oof. Good one, Ash!” Piggy praised her for hurting his balls.

Round 2. Green light.

Ash tripped on a red light. She kicked off her socks. Alexis intentionally moved slowly to let Karen win one, and took off her bra to stand topless, her medium breasts free and her long nipples stiff and prominent. She was intentionally escalating the moment for the others.

Ash and Alexis drank.

Karen excitedly stepped up to Piggy. She measured the distances, and buried her bony knuckles into his nut meat.

His balls were already starting to feel heavier, the faint pink now deepening to a soft red where her knuckles had landed.

“Oof. Nice swing!” Piggy complimented her, secretly hoping she won more often because she didn’t hit as hard as the others.

Round 3. Green light.

Karen and Ash lost to Alexis. Karen pulled her sweater over her head, revealing her lacy pink bra cradling her small pale breasts. Ash dropped her shorts, showing off her toned, well-muscled legs and cute athletic panties that hugged the curve of her athletic butt.

Karen and Ash drank.

Alexis gestured to the girls with her fist to get their attention, then planted it into Piggy’s sensitive gonads. Piggy bent over and squealed.

Alexis crowed, “That is how you do it girls. Top that if you can.”

Round 4. Green light.

Alexis and Karen got caught. Alexis slid her leggings down, now standing in just her panties and socks, her athletic legs and shaved mound visible beneath the thin mesh fabric of her panties. Karen slid her jeans down, revealing scrawny pale legs that ended in small pink panties.

Alexis and Karen drank.

Ash took her moment to attack Piggy’s balls. She swung brutally, her fist driving deep into his sensitive organs. The meaty impact sounded with a heavy thud, his large smooth balls distorting visibly as the left one compressed flat before rebounding, the shaved skin now blooming a deeper red and beginning to puff outward. Inside, a rolling wave of nausea surged up his gut, hot pulses radiating from the core of each testicle. Ash watched with dark satisfaction as the sack started to swell.

Piggy bent and expelled all the breath from his lungs, forcing out, “Oof… good one,” through gritted teeth.

Ash looked at Alexis, “Was that good enough?”

Alexis smirked back playfully.

Round 5. Green light.

Ash and Karen lost the round. Ash pulled her tank top off, now down to her sports bra and sporty panties, her toned abs flexing as she moved. Karen reached back and unhooked her bra, letting her small pale breasts with puffy pink nipples bounce free, the thin freckles across her chest catching the light.

Ash and Karen drank.

Alexis lined up, and waited until Ash was watching, and then delivered a shocking brutal punch to Piggy’s balls. He fell to all fours, and struggled to breathe.

Alexis taunted Ash, “Think you can top that one?”

Ash looked at Piggy thoughtfully.

Round 6. Green light.

Karen stumbled at a red light. She slipped her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, now completely naked—her narrow thighs pale and freckled, the sculpted triangle of red pubic hair crowning her pronounced outie vagina on full display. Alexis let Ash win, and removed her panties, her shaved vagina visible, but her socks stayed on.

Ash looked her up and down, and said “Nice fashion statement.”

Karen and Alexis drank.

Ash stepped up to Piggy; there was something in her eyes that made Piggy a little afraid. She was a small woman, but athletic. She pulled her fist back, and let fly.

The savage punch landed with a deep, fleshy thwap. Piggy’s large balls distorted dramatically, the orbs flattening and warping around her small fist before slowly rebounding, the balls a vivid angry red that was rapidly darkening toward purple at the impact points, the entire sack swelling heavier and starting to hang lopsided. Inside, a sickening heat bloomed deep in his gut, nausea clawing upward as each testicle pulsed with fresh agony. Ash’s eyes lit with savage satisfaction as she watched the bruising bloom. Piggy was down, struggling with the pain in his sensitive testicles. His smile failed for the first time, but his fetal position hid his fault.

Alexis appraised Ash. “Good swing.” Then prodded Piggy with her toes. “What do you say to Ash, Piggy?”

“Th…Thank you.” Piggy said as he could find enough breath.

Round 7. Green light.

Karen had nothing left to remove, so she joined Piggy at the light. Alexis and Ash tripped each other up, both falling during a red light, Alexis playfully grabbed Ash’s ass as they rolled around on the ground.

“You both lose!” Karen exclaimed.

Ash said, “I shouldn’t win on a disqualification.”

Karen: “Fair enough, but I get a shot at Piggy’s balls.”

Alexis nodded.

Karen took her swing; bony knuckles landed painfully, but nothing compared to what the other girls could deliver. Piggy doubled over anyway. Then he grunted out, “Good one,” as he eyed Karen’s pretty crotch, the sculpted triangle of red pubic hair crowning her pronounced outie vagina.

Round 8. Green light.

Alexis was on a mission, and with her experience she easily beat Ash. Ash shrugged, and pulled her sports bra over her head, revealing her small athletic breasts that sagged in a soft feminine way, complementing her toned abs and the big tattoo running down one leg, the big wooden ear piercings giving her an edgy look. Ash took a drink.

Alexis approached Piggy, who eyed her beautiful body. She prepared for her victory celebration. She paused to say, “Are you ready Piggy?”

Oh shit! Piggy thought. This is going to hurt.

Alexis swung with her full power. She was an artist at delivering testicle pain, and she made this punch a masterpiece. The impact cracked loudly—SMACK—his already bruised and swollen balls compressing violently, the large orbs warping into ugly flattened shapes before they rebounded heavier than before, the purple bruising now spreading across the entire sack, the skin tight and shiny from the rapid swelling. A fresh wave of gut-wrenching nausea exploded upward, the heat inside turning molten as his balls throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Alexis watched with hungry eyes as the sack continued to darken and puff.

Piggy fell to the floor.

The girls watched him squirm about and giggle.

Round 9. Green light.

In the final round Alexis pushed hard but still lost. She pulled off her socks—and stood confidently naked in front of everyone, her athletic body and shaved vagina on full display.

Ash was now the clear winner of the game, still wearing her athletic panties. She stepped back, breathing heavily, eyes dark with excitement.

“This has been fun… but I brought something special.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out the small black stun gun. She clicked it on. A sharp blue arc crackled loudly between the prongs.

“I bought this to protect myself when my drunk boyfriend got rough with me. Instead he took it and used it on me. I’ve always wanted to shock a guy’s balls.”

Ash turned to Alexis. “Alexis… can I use this on Piggy’s balls?”

Alexis’s long nipples were rock-hard, eyes bright. “Sure. Go for it.”

Piggy stared at Alexis, eyes wide and desperately pleading, silently begging her to stop.

Ash pressed the crackling prongs firmly against Piggy’s swollen, purple balls, trigger already depressed.

The stun gun erupted with a vicious CRACKLE-ZAP. Piggy’s body seized violently, every muscle locking as the electricity surged through his battered gonads; the large smooth orbs contracted and twitched uncontrollably, the purple bruising seeming to darken further under the assault while the shaved skin jumped and spasmed. Inside, white-hot fire exploded through his balls and straight into his gut, a searing nausea so intense he felt his stomach try to climb his throat, terror flashing that the current would cook them for good. A raw, high-pitched scream tore out of him as he collapsed to the floor, writhing and wailing in agony, but Ash leaned in to try and keep the stun gun frying his nuts.

Alexis grabbed her, pulling her into a bear hug. Ash released the trigger, tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

Alexis saw her moment, and kissed Ash deeply, as she gently took the stun gun away from her. Kiss finished, she released Ash, who had some of her traditional fire back.

Then Alexis leaned down, and extended the stun gun.

Piggy looked up, voice breaking. “Alexis, please… no more…”

“It’s part of the game,” Alexis said firmly and pressed the stun gun back against his balls. The second jolt hit even harder—CRACKLE-ZAP—his already swollen and deeply purple sac convulsing violently again, the bruised orbs jerking and darkening under the electric burn while the internal fire felt like lightning tearing through tender meat, the nausea doubling until he was sure he would vomit, fear spiking that permanent damage was seconds away. Piggy screamed even louder, thrashing wildly on the floor.

Alexis finally pulled it away and turned to Karen, still holding the stun gun. “Your turn, Karen.”

Karen’s face had gone completely pale. She wrapped her arms around her naked body and took a step back. “No. I’m done. This isn’t fun anymore. I’m out.”

Karen and Ash exchanged uneasy glances. Karen quickly gathered her scattered clothes, her pale freckled body flushed with discomfort, while Ash, still breathing hard, pulled on her things in silence. They dressed in a rush and slipped out the front door without a backward look, the latch clicking shut behind them.

Alone now, Alexis’s playful energy evaporated. Her eyes narrowed, lips curling into a cold, scary smile as she stared down at Piggy’s trembling form on the floor. The room felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken promise. “Those screams are going to cost you tomorrow, Piggy,” she whispered, voice low and dangerous, the ringmaster gone and something far more intense taking her place.

----

Author's Note: I have a full outline for this entire story cycle, so generating future chapters should be fast.

I really appreciate feedback. Throw me a comment if you like my writing to let me know what you'd like to see in the future.

Disclaimer: These stories are a work of fiction. None of the events depicted have occurred as they are depicted. My wife and I do have a relationship that sometimes incorporates some ballbusting, but these stories are fantasy.

Chapter 22: Monday:  Time with my crush

Monday evening, I was tied tightly to a chair, my wrists and ankles bound securely to the arms and legs. I could squirm and shift a little, but there was nothing I could do to relieve the crushing pressure of the three-bar ball crusher locked around my testicles.

Two bars clamped firmly behind my balls, stretching them out painfully, while the third bar pressed down relentlessly across the middle, flattening and bending my poor nuts around its unyielding edge. The hard plastic dug mercilessly into my tender ball-meat, and so did my wife.

“It looks like the crusher is really having an impact,” my wife said with a smirk. “How do they feel?”

“It’s a nice, relaxing stretch,” I lied. The pain was already intense, but I didn’t want to sound like a whiner.

“Should I tighten it some more?”

“You don’t have the balls!” I barked, forcing a smirk through the agony.

“Ha! You’re right,” she laughed, clearly delighted. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, revealing her smooth, bare mound—completely devoid of balls. “I’m so glad I don’t have stupid, ugly balls. Especially ones as naughty as yours. That’s why I don’t spend my evenings with my balls crushed in a vice.” She paused, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Would you mind if I borrow yours for tonight?”

“Sure,” I grunted. “You can have the balls for the evening.”

“Great! Let’s see how this feels.”

She leaned forward and tightened the crusher with a slow, brutal twist. My muscles tensed instantly as fresh waves of pain exploded through my groin.

“How are the balls feeling now?” she asked sweetly.

“Ugh… they feel fine,” I lied through gritted teeth.

She leaned in again and gave the screw another merciless turn. I jerked hard against my bonds, my body instinctively fighting the overwhelming pressure on my poor testicles. Every instinct screamed at me to relieve it, but I forced myself to breathe through the pain. I needed to master my body—for her.

“How are the balls feeling now?” she asked again, her voice playful.

I took three long, shaky breaths before I could answer. “They… hurt.”

“Ha!” she sang with musical delight. “I’m sure they do. But I think they should hurt a little bit more.”

She leaned in once more and tightened the crusher even further. The pressure on my precious orbs was unbearable now. I thrashed and shook violently in the chair.

“Ple… please… loosen it!” I begged pitifully.

My wife put on a theatrically disappointed face. “Don’t ruin our fun.”

“Please! I can’t take it!” I gasped.

“I’m really disappointed,” she sighed. “I thought I married a real man, not a whiny boy. Let’s work together on this. I bet you can take it for just two more minutes.” She looked at my trembling body, then slowly peeled off her top, exposing her full breasts. “Here… I’ll help motivate you.”
She straddled the arm of the chair, planting one foot on the seat between my bound legs. Her warm, wet pussy pressed firmly against my clenched fist as she pushed her breasts into my face.

I loved her breasts. I desperately wanted them—but the crushing agony in my balls dominated every thought. They were bulging obscenely to both sides of the crusher bar in a grotesque, unnatural shape.

“Take it for me,” she whispered, her voice thick with arousal.

I struggled to regain control. Finally, I managed to wrap my lips around her stiff nipple and suck gently. After a moment, I unclenched my fist and slid a finger inside her slick folds. It wasn’t easy—I had to pause every few seconds as fresh bolts of pain tore through me—but my suffering clearly turned her on. Her breathing grew ragged, her hips grinding against my hand. Eventually, her body shuddered with a powerful orgasm.

Satisfied, she stepped back and looked down at me with a radiant smile. “We did it!” Her joy was infectious, and for a brief moment, it almost outweighed the pain. “I’m so proud of you. You’re such a good man for me.”

I soaked up her praise, even as my crushed testicles throbbed mercilessly.

We shared a tender moment—her standing naked before me, glowing with post-orgasmic bliss, while I remained tied helplessly to the chair, fighting not to cry out from the unrelenting torture between my legs.

After the moment passed, she leaned in, kissed me softly on the lips… then reached down and tightened the ball crusher once more.

The spike in pain was immediate and devastating. It was too much. My body convulsed uncontrollably.

My wife glanced down at my shaking form with a satisfied little smile, then casually gathered her clothes. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back in about ten minutes to let a little pressure off those balls.”

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone to suffer in silence.

Author's Note: I really appreciate feedback. Throw me a comment if you like my writing to let me know what you'd like to see in the future.

Here are the previous chapters.

• Chapter 1 and 2 (Kicking and electrical play)
• Chapter 3 (Kicking and licking)
• Chapter 4 and 5 (Kicking and crushing in a vice)
• Chapter 6 (Hammering and sex)
• Chapter 7 (Execution style weight play and licking)
• Chapter 8 (Caning in stocks)
• Chapter 9 (Kicking)
• Chapter 10 (Crushing)
• Chapter 11 (Kicking)
• Chapter 12 (Hammering)
• Chapter 13 (Cattle Prod)
• Chapter 14 (Kicking)
• Chapter 15 (Leashed pulling, Kicking)
• Chapter 16 (Kicking, Shocking)
• Chapter 17 (Kicking, Caning)
• Chapter 18 (Cock Burning)
• Chapter 19 (Caning)
• Chapter 20 (Caning, Kicking, Taser)
• Chapter 21 (Cock Torture, Ball Kicks)