Loving Torture - The Session

She gets lost in the "magic of the moment", moving into an almost trancelike state, relentless and merciless. No amount of begging stops her. It is a physical and psychological game for her as she wallows in the intoxicating power of owning my balls so completely, our unbreakable bond being forged ever stronger in a crucible of power and pain with each strike.

- - Again, I know this sounds very cruel, but it is necessary at times for her to assert, in a very clear way, that SHE has ALL the power and control in our sex life. Because my vulnerable testicles most define me as a man, she believes that torturing me through them is the best and most logical way for her, as a woman, to assert her dominance, and make me submit. I don't disagree.

- - This seems like a good time to redirect for a moment, and talk about my safeword. Yes, I have one.

We would never recommend that others who participate in risky BDSM activity do what I am about to relate, but it works for us, so here goes.

If she is trying something new, or doing something she has done to me before that can potentially cause physical damage or push me too far either physically or emotionally, my safeword is my escape hatch. If I use it, she honors it immediately, stops, and gently and lovingly eases me back down.

But there are other times when Sara "suspends" my safeword.

She only does it when we engage in something we have already, safely, done before, and she knows that I will want her to stop due to the intensity, but it won't cause any lasting physical injury or emotional distress.

This allows her to push me past my limits (even WAY past my limits), knowing that ultimately, that's what I want, and need. There have been too many times when I had safeworded out when I thought it was too much, and then later regretted my decision, wishing I had allowed her to push me beyond what I thought I could take in the moment.

Now, I trust her to know when I've had enough, even when I think it's more than I can take. So far, she has always been right.

At this point, there are only three activities for which she regularly suspends my safeword. They are:

- - 1. Teasing and denial sessions

- - 2. Post orgasm torture (Yet another future story)

- - 3. Ball beatings (But only when using the WTD. Not any other, untried object.)

Even though a ball beating is excruciating, and I hate it while she's doing it (and always beg her to stop), afterwards, I know that I needed it, and end up grateful, and that much more in love with my beautiful, powerful wife.

On with our story.

- - Like most men, I have spent almost my entire life protectively guarding my testicles. A male's instinct to protect this part of his body is built into the very fabric of his being. Any quick movement towards a man's groin will cause his body to involuntarily respond with lightening reflexes to cover and protect those delicate organs.

A man being struck in the groin can sometimes spontaneously vomit or even pass out from the intensity of the pain. There are even stories of men dying from testicular trauma. It is instinctively built into us to both protect ourselves from the possibility of this excruciating pain, and ultimately protect that which will continue the survival of the species.

Lying on the bed that night, naked, legs spread before her, my body completely immobilized with my fragile balls trapped between her squeezing fingers, and not knowing if she was going to keep gently massaging them or abuse them into agonizing submission, was unnatural and went against all my most basic instincts.

Because of the previous ball beatings I had been subjected to, I was genuinely terrified of what was coming next.

Chapter 16

- - The clock ticks on as she continues to knead the swollen, full orbs encased in my ball sack, rolling them between her lubricated thumbs and fingers. The pressure that I was already feeling was excruciating, but this process takes it to a whole new level, increasing the pressure, and causing a horrendous, persistent ache, deep inside the pit of my gut.

After all the teasing, they are now extremely sensitive to pressure.

She knows exactly how much I can take, aware of how much pressure she can apply and how hard she can squeeze. As she rolls and kneads, gradually increasing her grip, she is careful not to cause sharp pain that pulls me out of the emotional and psychological place she has brought me to, but instead, keeps me in a place of a constant, crippling, ache.

She wants to keep me in this place... for now.

My mind reels with thoughts of what a hard slap, a tight squeeze, or the most horrifying of all, a beating with the magazine, will do to my aching, swollen balls. Not knowing her intensions is creating a level of anxiety that only adds to her clear and undeniable position of Alpha Female - strong, aggressive, in control, and frankly, terrifying.

The magazine lying on the bed within easy reach, is an inanimate constant threat, and is not helping at all.

Tapping into that place of seemingly infinite patience, Sara goes on and on. Many minutes tick by and she just won't stop. The relentless onslaught, and accompanying fear and pain, continues to build my need, frustration, and vulnerability, pushing me far past my tolerance and endurance.

If I could use my safeword, I would use it now. I would do anything to stop the ache, and avoid a catastrophic ball beating. But there's not a thing I can do but endure it. It's my only option.

There are only a few critical things I am able to focus on... Her squeezing fingers ruthlessly subjecting my testicles to her all-consuming control. Her complete and total domination over my mind and body. And my overwhelmingly desperate need to cum.

- - In the BDSM community, there is a psychological and emotional state known as subspace. It is a state that can arise in a submissive during intense DOM/sub BDSM activity. One expert describes it this way:

"Subspace is an emotional state triggered by a release of hormones into the body. During BDSM, we are experiencing types of physical activities which are very different from the day-to-day experiences that can affect us on a physical, emotional, and neurochemical level. During different types of play the body releases a whole host of different hormones such as dopamine, adrenaline, endorphins, oxytocin, and cortisol. This can lead to people feeling 'high' and in an almost 'trance-like state' both during and after play."

There is another matching mental and emotional state that the dominant participant can experience called "topspace". Sara enters topspace often, at times entering a perfect state of Zen, relaxed and at ease, even as I am writhing in pain.

The intensity of what Sara has been doing to my balls, for what feels like an endless period, begins pulling me into that place. The profound ache that has now invaded my balls, groin, and gut, is causing me to enter subspace.

I can feel myself drifting off into another realm, some other place of semi-consciousness, into another dimension of human existence. My brain flooded with consciousness altering chemicals, I enter a trancelike state, totally lost in the intense sensations that are barraging my body.

Drifting out in that place, I find her. She is there too, having entered topspace, drawn by her single-minded focus on dominating me so completely through my balls.

Our minds and spirits and bodies connect and intertwine. This experience is so much more than just brain synapses and chemical processes. It transcends the natural and moves into the realm of the supernatural... the spiritual. I can feel our emotions, spirits, and bodies combining and coalescing into one.

The experience is so powerful and so moving that my emotions and mind and heart are completely overcome by what is happening.

My mind begins to embrace the pain. Submitting to it. Absorbing it. Feeding off it. Loving and loathing it at the same time.

I become immersed in the power she has to own and control me so completely, lost in her, in us, in her beautiful spirit, in her body, in my body, and in the unrelenting ache in my testicles.

Helplessly consumed by this place she has taken me, I begin to lose track of where my body ends and hers begins, our bodies becoming extensions of one another, connected through her hands and my testicles.

I am hopelessly in love with her and her wonderful hands that are so lovingly coaxing me towards ultimate surrender and complete breakdown.

Even though I have been naked this whole time, I arrive at a place where I am finally totally naked - stripped, both physically and emotionally. All my defenses gone, all my armor removed, all my ego and self-consciousness released, all my emotions, raw, open, and exposed.

Sara, sensing I have now surrendered to, and embraced the suffering, continues on, and on, and on, and on. A never-ending assault on my vulnerable balls, pushing me deeper and deeper into the abyss of subspace. I am lost. Adrift in a universe of submission.

- - And then... the ball massage stops. She has accomplished her goal. My testicles feel like they are about to explode, the pressure so much more intense than before she started. My mind and spirit have disconnected from my body, all thoughts and logic eviscerated.

I am floating.

But, once again, unbelievably, she finds a way to push me further. She is always able to push me further. She knows exactly what to do to me. She needs control, and I need her to push me past what I think I can endure. She is an expert at both.

- - She wraps her hand around my scrotum where it attaches to my body, causing my balls to bulge out of the top of her fist, tightly stretching the skin, showing the clear outline of each testicle through the thin flesh.

The ache immediately turns into a sharp pain that shoots through my balls and up into my gut, instantly bringing me out of subspace and back into the real world.

Pulled straight up from my body, the oval eggs of my testicles protruding from her closed fist, are in the exact position as when she beats them. And just like that, she wordlessly communicates what's coming next, and my panicked mind begins to mentally prepare for the suffering.

I quickly look down at her, once again terrified of what she is going to do to my testicles as they are defenselessly trapped in her pulling, squeezing grasp.

Her gaze, leaving my balls, comes up to meet mine. I see nothing but love as that sweet little smile once again plays across her lips as she sees in my eyes the desperate fear that is rising from deep within me.

That look of love in her eyes means nothing when it comes to torturing my balls. She tortures them BECAUSE she loves me, so the love I see gives me no hope of mercy. Instead, it fills me with dread, knowing what she is capable of.

For just a brief second, I see what almost looks like pity, but it is immediately replaced by another expression that indicates she is intoxicated with the power of being able to make me so afraid.

- - Due to the long assault on my balls, and the recent sharp pain she has inflicted, my cock has begun to soften slightly.

With this change of grip, it begins to harden again immediately, the stretched skin of my scrotum causing the blood vessels in my balls and at the base of my cock to constrict, forcing more blood into the bulging veins of my shaft and head.

As it quickly engorges, my cock turns a deeper shade of crimson while my balls feel like they are going to rupture.

Without taking her eyes from mine she begins to slowly reach for the magazine, the weapon she uses to destroy my testicles, lying next to her on the bed.

What had been just a fear that I was desperately trying to mentally prepare myself for, now becomes a reality.

I cry out in panic "OH SARA, NO! PLEASE! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! PLEASE DON'T DO IT! PLEASE! MY BALLS CAN'T TAKE IT!!!! ....", my cries once again fueling her lust for mastery. My emotions immediately descend into a pit of fear and despair, knowing how horrific this is going to be.

This is my worst nightmare. A ball beating now is going to be devastating.

I give up my desperate pleading, knowing it is useless. Closing my eyes tightly, I mentally prepare myself for that first THWACK of excruciating pain, knowing it will be 100 times worse than any ball pain I have ever experienced before, due to their swollen and sensitive condition.

Seconds tick by, my heart racing, every muscle in my body staining with the anticipation of enduring the worst kind of pain a man can experience. I am preparing for pain so debilitating it will make me want to wretch.

But it doesn't come. The room is eerily still. I wait. Seconds slip by. The anticipation is causing my fear and dread to increase in concert with each tick of the clock.

After what feels like an eternity with no strike to my balls, I hesitantly open my eyes. Sara is still looking at me, a serious expression on her face, my balls tight in her hand, the magazine still lying on the bed beside her.

Whispering softly, she says "not tonight, my love. The rest of this night is going to be about excruciating pleasure, not pain". And with that, she leans forward and lovingly kisses my smooth, exposed balls. First the right one, then the left one.

The relief that floods my mind and emotions is indescribable. My muscles relax as I move instantly from despair to elation.

She has once again totally fucked with my mind.

Physical, psychological, and emotional domination are what she does best. It's her drug of choice, and she just took a huge hit, its intoxicating effects now enveloping her completely.

She is a master at taking me on devastating emotional roller coaster rides, forcing me to the top of a hill of elation and ecstasy, only to push me over the crest, forcing me to plunge into the depths of emotional hopelessness and despair at the bottom, only to start me back up the next hill of excruciating pleasure.

She later told me that when she wrapped her hand around my balls that night, she was shocked by how swollen and purple they were and became concerned about what a ball beating might do to them. She had never seen them that swollen, and not wanting to damage them, decided to use the threat of a ball beating to torture me psychologically, instead of beating them to torture me physically.

And the torture continues.

- - With her free hand she once again gathers some lube and gently spreads a thick coating over my cockhead while still pulling steadily on my balls.

With her thumb and forefinger, she makes a small circle forming the shape of an "OK" sign and begins sliding this small tool of torture over the head of my cock, popping it past the ridge of my engorged glans with each stroke.

The sensations from the friction cause my head to swell larger, causing the friction from her fingers to increase, which in turn causes the ridge of my head to become even more prominent, swollen, and sensitive.

It is an ever-increasing cycle of stimulation and swelling that is excruciating in its effectiveness to over stimulate my hyper sensitized nerve endings in my corona, once again inching me closer to orgasm.

The effect of nothing touching my cock but this small circle made of the soft skin of her fingers sliding over the ridge of my glans, drives me to a point of ridiculous frustration. Always varying the speed, pressure, and intensity, she tortures my poor helpless dickhead with this sliding donut of lubricated flesh.

With her other hand she continues to firmly pull my balls away from my body while forcefully squeezing, continuing to increase the pressure.

Her power of seemingly unlimited patience is once again my undoing. The frustration of riding the edge of orgasm - getting close, then retreating, getting close, then retreating, over and over, in an endless cycle of ruthless denial, is overtaking my body and mind.

Once again, I lose all control of the muscles in my body. My hips and ass, seemingly controlled by some unseen force, try desperately to fuck her fingers to get the needed friction to cum.

But, once again, my struggle is to no avail.

The softness of the skin on her fingers and the large amount of friction reducing lubricant act in harmony to prevent my cock from getting the amount of stimulation needed to ejaculate, and no matter how hard I try to will myself to cum, I cannot go over the edge to orgasm.

A sob escapes from my throat - a heart rending sob bordering on tears. It's a sound of defeat, hopelessness, and despair. And it's a sound that intensifies her need for even more power and control. She is an addict, always wanting more. The more she takes, the more she wants, and it is me she is taking it from - ripping it from me, remorseless and compassionless.

Ignoring my cry of despair, she continues, on, and on, and on, and on, never deviating, never tiring, never extending mercy... and never providing relief.

She once again drives me just to the brink of orgasm, and finally, stops. Not out of mercy, but because I am going to cum no matter how much she lightens her touch.

She releases my now stretched ball sack and cock from her grasp and watches closely as my glistening purple, angry, throbbing member once again uselessly fights and strains to cum - a sight she revels in seeing. Slowly, my cock gives up its struggle, once again resigning itself to another denied orgasm.

How long can this continue? It's devastating.

Finally, mercifully, she gives me a good amount of time to recover.

- - Getting up, she walks out of the room, leaving me wondering where she is going, and dreading what she is going to do next. Thankfully, she returns with just a glass of water.

After drinking some herself, she offers me some, carefully tilting the glass down to my mouth to avoid a spill. The cool liquid slips down my parched throat, providing slight refreshment, and in a hoarse whisper, I barely get out a pathetic "thank you".

She looks deeply into my eyes and replies, "You're welcome. I just want to make sure you have the strength to endure what's coming next".

There is no end to this woman's ability to fuck with me. With those few simple words, she once again produces a dread within me that is monstrous. She is heartless. She is irresistible. And she owns me completely.

She crawls down off the foot of the bed and walks across the room to put the glass down on the dresser.

I love seeing her naked, and even with the chaos that is battering my mind, my eyes are involuntarily drawn to the stunning sight of my wife, standing naked in the flickering candlelight, petite, beautiful, and powerful.

A shiver runs down my spine as I think about the raw sexual energy stored up in that tiny frame. I watch her, mesmerized, as she slowly walks back, climbs onto our king-sized bed, and crawls towards me, like a panther stalking its prey.

Repositioning herself between my spread legs, the merciless torture resumes. And as you will see, unbelievably, the worst is yet to come.

- - She looks down at my softened cock with a smile on her face, enjoying the sight of it resting quietly, exhausted and frustrated, lying on its side like a drunk passed out on the side of the road.

This is the first time my cock has had any relief from being erect for well over three hours. My shaft aches from the unnaturally prolonged period of engorgement and is grateful for the respite, oblivious to the torture it is still going to have to endure before this night is over.

Sara, rested and ready for more, softly takes my flaccid cock in her hand, leans forward, and sucks the whole thing into her mouth, her lips wrapped around the base of my shaft, her mouth enveloping it completely.

After the intense amount of stimulation my cock has already endured, even soft, it is ridiculously sensitive. The feeling of my flaccid penis floating freely in her warm, wet mouth as she playfully manipulates it with her tongue, is overwhelming. It feels indescribably wonderful, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body with each soft suck and twirl of her slippery tongue.