Okay, not really. But it may as well have been. NW has been in a CBT mood for the past two days. She partook in it several times, yesterday. She engaged in a bit this morning…then again, this evening. The squeezing, pressing, slapping and mild hitting were child’s play compared to the wee hours of the morning, however.
As I am typing this, my balls are still afire with what just happened. They will still hurt when I go to sleep. I will be really surprised if they are not hurting tomorrow, when I wake up.
I got in bed with a sleeping NW. I got on my side, facing away from her. She, stirring just a tad, curled up behind me and draped her arm over my hip. Over the next 15 minutes I tried to work her hand down to my denied cock and balls. I wanted to get her hand there, without waking her, to see what would happen. More than once, I have awakened to NW, sound asleep, but stroking me. As fate would have it, right as I got her hand into position, she rolled away from me. Dammit!
After a moment, I turned towards her. She, almost on cue, turned and faced me. Her knee firmly planted into my balls and the back of her hand brushing them. I pushed my hips forward, slightly, hoping to get constant contact. It paid off! In no time, her fingers were wiggling about and she was pressing the back of her hand into my balls. She was asleep, but only for a few moments.
When I knew that she was awake, I asked her if she wanted to hurt me. Toggle the switch. It was now firmly in the “on” position. The fun began.
It started off with the typical squeezing. She focused on one ball at a time, though, which is always more painful. She moved to squeezing with both hands. Then on to some mild impact play, using the back of her hand. She rotated through these, several times, stroking me in between. Several times I had to warn her off, because the discomfort was about to send me over the edge.
This is where it started. I don’t recall which one of us said what, that initiated it. It was decided, though, she wanted to punch my balls. Not open handed…not with the back of her hand…but with a balled up fist, while holding them captive with the other hand. She has done this before. In fact, she has done this several times over the past two days. This time was different, though. She wasn’t trying to hit me just hard enough to push the outer limits of what I found pleasurable. She wanted to punch them…and hurt me.
I opened my legs and she took a firm grip of my balls with her right hand. Then she struck them, moderately hard. Instinctively, in response to the pain, my legs started to close. Before they did, though, I realised that I could eat this pain. I fully opened them again. She took the cue and punched them again. This time, harder. My pain obvious, she asked if she could hit them one more time. I, like an idiot, said that she could. The hardest one yet followed. I rolled over onto to her in my pain. I was hurting…and it was not pleasurable.
She stroked me for a moment, then squeezed my balls with both hands. This was a different kind of pain and, somehow, helped alleviate the pain from having been punched. Sensing that my pain had subsided, she asked if she could do it again. This time, there were four punches, directly onto my balls. Each of these as hard, or harder, than the last of the previous group. She paused after each one, waiting for me to give her the go for another. I had to gird myself for each impending blow. I gritted my teeth, locked my hips, grabbed her head and tensed every muscle in my body. After the third punch, I was in agony, but she asked if I could handle one more. I spread my legs, steeled myself, and gave her the go ahead. This, again, surpassed all of the others. I gasped, balled up and wallowed in the pain.
Again, she returned to stroking me, fondling and lightly squeezing my battered balls. By now, though, I was in the flow of things. I hurt like hell, but wanted to endure more. I asked her if she wanted to hurt me again. She said that she didn’t think it a good idea. That I needed to be able to walk tomorrow. I responded that I didn’t ask what she thought, but what she wanted. She wanted to hurt me.
For a third time, I opened myself to her and felt her secure my balls in her grip. This time, however, she sat up and took me in her left hand. I knew that she meant business. She is right-handed and this move showed that she intended to hit me hard enough that accuracy was of the utmost importance.
I prepared myself, as I had for the others, and the first punch landed. It was as hard as the hardest of the others. I winced and moved to ball up, but caught myself, opened myself back up and said “okay”. The second punch landed and then the third. She acted as though she was about to stop. Even in my agony, I said “One more. You know you want a really hard one. Make this the hardest.” I had lost my damned mind. Each of the previous three had hurt like hell. I had to force myself to accept each impending blow. And here I was, asking for another, and the hardest one yet.
She delivered it. It was hard. I cried out, balled up, rolled over and felt the searing pain shoot from my balls into my abdomen. It was over. In my insanity, I offered for her to continue. She was done, however. Reason prevailed, as we both needed sleep and I needed to be able to walk come tomorrow.
That was nearly an hour ago. My balls are still aching like hell. It was fucking wonderful. I will want it again.