My ballbusting addiction

The first time I heard about a ballbusting kink, I couldn’t understand why someone would like it so much. The thought of being kicked in the balls made me want to cry, so the fact that someone would choose it as a way to get off didn’t make any sense to me.

But then I met Heather. 

Heather stood out to me from all the other women on Tinder. She was a dominatrix, and all of her pictures showcased her in tall leather boots with spiky heels. My favorite shot of her was a picture of her in a brightly lit windowsill in a black leather corset and tight leather pants. I spotted a whip to the side of her. She was the real deal.

Her Tinder bio said that she was looking for a man into CBT. I had to Google what it meant, and I cringed when I learned it was cock and ball torture! The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought I might actually enjoy having Heather smash my balls. 

The truth was, I had been bored in my sex life lately. I was a single guy, but casual hookups weren’t doing it for me anymore. I wanted something new to spice things up. 

So I sent Heather a message. 

The first time I met up with her, she was dressed in her dominatrix gear, looking as sexy as her pictures. She had those heels on, and suddenly, all I wanted was for her to smash my nuts.

“Come in, Kieran,” she said, nodding her head to her apartment. 

I swallowed hard. I was nervous.

But there wasn’t any reason to be. Heather took charge and had me acting as her submissive in no time. I crawled around on all fours, was smothered by her pussy as she sat down on my face, and then finally, we moved to the cock and ball torture.

I wasn’t sure how the process worked, but I quickly found out. 

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” said Heather, her deep green eyes looking into mine. She was intimidating in the sexiest way.

It started off with her tugging and pulling at my balls. It was uncomfortable, but the pain didn’t set in until she really started to stretch them out like they were made of rubber or something. I took a sharp inhale, trying to steady my breath against the pain.

Heather chuckled. “Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
The pain got worse and worse as she really began to lay into me, twisting each of my balls and pulling them down and to the side. My eyes welled with tears, but I was also starting to feel a deep sense of arousal. My cock began to twitch as she tormented my poor nuts. I couldn’t believe that I was really enjoying myself through all this pain. 

“Look,” said Heather, clearly enjoying herself, “someone is loving this.”

Things escalated quickly when Heather brought out the rubber bands. My whole body tensed up. 

“I don’t know if I can handle that,” I said, eyeing them. The thought of having my nuts constricted like that made me want to crawl out of the room with my balls safely tucked away.

“If you want to stop, we can stop,” said Heather. 

I knew she meant it, and for a moment, I debated on whether I wanted to keep going. But I was enjoying myself too much to stop now. 

Heather started by snapping the rubber bands against my shaft and balls. It hurt so much worse than I had expected, but the pain also brought me new waves of pleasure. Every time the rubber snapped against my poor, red-hot skin, a chill ran down my spine, and my cock began to get harder and harder. 

“Let’s tie these pathetic little balls up,” said Heather, and she began to wrap the rubber bands around each of my balls.

“FUUUUCK!” I yelped, my voice ten octaves higher than normal. I writhed around on the floor as Heather laughed at me. 

I’m not sure how long she left the rubber bands on my balls for because after that, Heather covered her latex gloves in lube and began to give me the best hand job of my life. I only lasted an embarrassing three minutes. 

When she finally released me from the rubber bands, my balls flooded with a tingling sensation as they began to regain feeling. Heather gently massaged and rubbed them.

When she ushered me out of the apartment, I was sad that our time together had ended so soon. 

It was right then and there that I realized I was addicted to having my cock and balls tortured. 

Unfortunately for me, Heather was moving to a different city. I no longer had access to painful sessions with my favorite dominatrix, so I had to make do with what I had. I rejoined Tinder and tried to find women to indulge my new fetish.

There was Angelique, who was timid but did an okay job. She loved to walk all across my body in various shoes, paying special attention to my cock. She grinded the sole of her sneakers right up against the shaft, squishing it and mashing it while I moaned and cried for mercy. When I asked her if she would torture me with rubber bands and tie up my balls, she attempted it, but somehow was never able to do it quite the same way as Heather.

Then there was Stephanie. Stephanie was wild and crazy. She was a gorgeous blonde who was happy to indulge my fetish. She even dressed up in full leather and if I didn’t know any better, I would have said she was a true dominatrix. 

She tied me up onto her bed with my arms and legs outstretched. I took a deep breath as she began to flick and kick my balls. She slapped my cock over and over, but every few seconds, she would stop and pleasure me with her mouth. I loved the alternating sensations, the combination of pleasure and pain.

“Goddamn,” I groaned, looking down as Stephanie licked her tongue across each of my sore balls. Her light blue eyes were locked right onto mine. 

Suddenly, she was sitting upright and rubbing the heels of her hands deep into my balls so that she was pushing them firmly against my body.

My back instinctively pulled away from the bed, trying to protect my nuts. Stephanie laughed and laughed, and it made me miss Heather.

I must have tried out every woman in the area, looking for that perfect replacement of Heather. When I realized I wasn’t going to find her, I decided to look Heather up on Facebook and sent her a message.

She seemed excited and flattered to hear from me. I ended up booking train tickets to go see her the next weekend. It was expensive and the train ride was long, but I knew it would be worth it.

Heather was just as she always was, fiery and gorgeous. She showed me around her new loft apartment, which was even nicer than her old one.

“Should we get down to business, Kieran?” she said, grabbing my chin with her hand.

She forced me against the wall of her bedroom and tied my hands up over my head. I hadn’t noticed the restraints she had installed there.

I was filled with a mix of dread and excitement as Heather went to her “toy box” and grabbed a few things I hadn’t seen before. There was a new hot pink whip which caught my eye.

Heather stood in front of me in her leather outfit, pacing back and forth like she was trying to make me nervous. It was working.

Suddenly, she was flailing the whip against my limp dick. The pain was incredible and sharp. The leather stung way more than expected, sending shockwaves of intense ache coursing through my body. If my arms hadn’t been tied up above my head, I think I probably would have fallen over.

Heather whipped me for another minute or so before switching to her hands and feet. She loved slapping my cock and kicking the toe of her boots up against my crotch. Over and over, she assailed me, making me squeal louder each time. 

To my surprise, Heather ended the session by dropping to her knees and sucking my throbbing, aching cock into her mouth. She ran her tongue across my shaft and started to suck me off, bobbing her head up and down my length until I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fu-fuuuck!” A primal groan escaped my mouth as I came. The orgasm was intense and was nothing compared to the orgasms I had had with those other women.

Heather undid the restraints from my hands and looked like she had something she wanted to say.

“What?” I asked. “Am I overstaying my welcome or something?”
“No,” said Heather, smiling. “I just. . . I wondered if you wanted to stay the night so we could have some more fun.”
My eyebrows shot up. Did she even need to ask me twice?