Vengeance: A Ruined Honeymoon

Mona knew she would. She'd do anything to avoid those shocks. But, it didn't make it easy. She felt immense guilt, staring at his manhood. She raised a fist, and threw a half-hearted punch to his hanging balls. She felt a pit in her stomach doing the act, and her feeling was made worse watching the man she loved squirming in pain. Jane slapped Mona, hard across the face, "Hit him for real, dumbass!"

Mona was reeling, struggling to stay up after the strike. Her ears were ringing. She steadied herself and threw another punch. It connected solidly, her knuckles slamming through both nuts and following through them, sending them swinging back up and into the chair. They slapped against the wood at their apex, falling back down to rest on her outstretched fist. Mona reeled in sympathetic pain, her husband groaning and twisting in his chair. "Oh God, fuck, it hurts."

He breathed heavily, trying to fold over himself but restrained from doing so. Jane rubbed Mona's shoulders, watching the show with a smile, "Do it again."

"What?" cried Chet.

Mona closed her eyes to try to filter it all out. But, every moment that passed was eternity to her paranoia. She knew if she defied Jane that her greatest fear would happen. She opened her eyes and punched again. Chet bellowed in agony and Mona felt Jane bouncing up and down laughing, "Again! Again! Haha! Keep it up!"

Mona sent a flurry of fists, her delirium keeping her within her muscle-memory. She didn't hold back consciously, driving her hard knuckles into Chet's soft testicles violently. She used his organs like a speedbag, pummeling for a minute straight, while he yelled and screaming in pain. Tears streamed down his face and he begged her to stop. Jane finally told Mona to relax, and the beating stopped.

Jane placed a wooden spoon into Mona's right hand. She sensually stroked Mona's hair, saying, "Now spank them with the spoon until I'm satisfied."

Mona looked up at Jane with horror. There's no way he'd be able to handle that--she was scared he was at his limit already. Chet was slumped over, heaving as a tired mess, sweat on his brow. He groaned, his face twitching in fear. He spoke softly, "Hey. Mona. It's okay honey. I'm tough. Don't worry about me."

She looked into his eyes, and they knew it was a lie. He was in excruciating pain, worse than he'd ever known, but all he could do to help her was be strong. Jane laughed, "Oh, yeah, they can take a beating. Check it out on the TV!"

Mona turned her gaze to see a scene of Jane laying down with her legs up, wrapped around Chet's waist as he jackhammered into her. The volume was low, but still Jane's screams of pleasure were audible. Jane chuckled, "See how hard his balls are hitting my ass there? This goes on for a while."

Chet's voice quaked, "Stop it, Jane."

Jane turned back to them, "Fine. You're eager to get going. Let's see how long that lasts after your meat gets tenderized."

Mona was signaled to start, and she launched the wooden spoon into Chet's balls. It crashed into them, the slapping sound was like a gunshot. Chet screamed in a high pitch, and in response Jane cackled and jumped in the air gleefully. The strikes continued, each one an unfathomably intense shot that made his vision blacken at the edges. Chet begged, "Stop! Oh God! Stopstopstop! It hurts! Please!"

Jane screamed out before Mona could hesitate, "Don't stop, bitch! Don't stop until I say!"

Chet's vocalizations weakened, phlegm building in his throat, until he was just gurgling. He fought everything in his body as the urge to retch overtook him. His world spun and he couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. Finally, he heard, "Stop!"

Jane skipped around the room, surveying her victims from every angle, not sure which perspective she liked best. Chet's eyes glazed over. Mona's fingers trembled. Jane said, "Okie dokie. Let's finish off this wooden spoon gimmick. That last round was great, but I thought it was lame that his balls were still dangling. This time, hold them in your hand so they can't move. That way, all the energy of the hit goes right into them fully."

Mona took a deep breath and looked up at Chet. He didn't move. He stayed slumped over. Truthfully, Chet couldn't look at his wife right now. The pain he felt was too great--he couldn't fake that he could handle any more. He managed what he could: He flicked his thumb up briefly, trying to show her approval. Mona saw it, but knew that her husband couldn't handle this. She clutched the spoon tightly, terrified of the damage she was doing. Jane tapped her wrist, "Sometime this century, bitch."

Mona reached out and grabbed her husband's balls. She hadn't done this before, not with the goal of securing the testicles. It was uncomfortable for her, requiring more squeezing than she thought. The rough manual treatment caused Chet to inhale sharply. Mona finally got them secured, forming a circle with her fingers above the balls and pulling lightly down to trap the orbs on the side of her hand closer to her. She held aloft the spoon and looked to Jane. Jane nodded, saying, "Hit him five times. I'll help you count. One."

The spoon struck him with the sound of a firecracker. His throat was stuffed with his gagging scream. His veins bulged, his eyes bugged, his tongue fell out.

"Two."

He felt like his balls were exploding when the next strike met them. How was this pain even possible? How could these balls that had given him so much pleasure in his life cause him so much pain in this moment? Tears streamed down his face, and he begged, "Stop it! Please! Jane, stop it!"

"Three! Four! Five!" Jane shouted rapidly.

Chet roared in anguish, thrashing against his bindings but not lifting an inch. The machine gun popping on his balls echoed off the walls of the room, he wailed like a banshee, shaking as he felt his legs go numb. He sobbed and his great tears fell down onto his wife's head. Mona cried with him, wishing she could say anything. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, how scared she was. Jane said, "Great job, Mona! You're good at this--you might hate Chet more than I do!

"For this next part," Jane continued, "I'll ask Chet some trivia, and if he answers right he'll get a reward. If he's wrong, though, he'll get a terrible punishment."

She took from their bathroom Mona's plastic hairbrush. She said, "This is the punishment tool. That's right, we're upgrading from the spoon. If you answer wrong, Mona will hit your nuts with the bristle side."

She handed it to Mona, and walked around behind Chet. Mona kept her grip firm on Chet's sac, trapping his balls like in the previous round. Jane asked, "Alright Chet, First Question: How many rounds did we go for on the night we spent in this cabin?"

The video currently playing was the tape they'd made together. Chet couldn't watch--couldn't face his mistakes. Mona couldn't help herself but turn to look. The current scene was Chet holding Jane up against a wall, his hands on her ass with her legs splayed wide to his sides; he had just finished, his thrusts were slowing, and he soon withdrew from her to change condoms for the next round.

Chet grit his teeth, "Too vague. What's a round?"

Jane mumbled to herself, her finger on her lip, "Hmm, I guess I'll rephrase that. A round is any time one, or both of us, cum. So, if we both came together that's one round. But, this next part where only you cum is also one round."

The next scene of the tape that Jane referred to showed Jane laying on her back on the floor with the camera a foot away from her face. Chet was above her, pounding his long cock into her eager mouth, fucking her face with abandon. Mona watched in hollow horror. He'd never been so... primal... with her. Their rule had been that oral required the receiver to be on bottom, just for safety's sake. Jane looked at Chet, expectantly.

Chet replied, "The whole night? I'd guess six rounds."

Mona gasped, and then felt terrible concern for if Chet had heard. He pretended not to. Jane laughed, "Nope! It was eight. But, I'll be nice. If you can name six rounds, I'll count it as correct. Remember, your future is at-stake."

A bead of sweat rolled down his face, "Obviously the two we just watched. The one round of," he nervously looked away from his wife, "doggy-style. The two times where you came from oral--"

"Clarify those? I don't remember."

Chet felt like shit saying this in front of Mona. He sighed, "The one time when I held you upside-down and did it. The other time when we were racing to make the other cum from oral."

"Ah, yep. That jogs my memory. Last one?"

Chet scowled. He remembered a pretty uncomfortable round. He was hoping he'd think of another. "Well?" asked Jane.

Chet's voice broke, "One time, you came from me... dominating you."

Jane smiled, eyes alight, "What ever do you mean?"

Chet snapped, "You know what I mean! The choking, the spanking. That was a round! You came from it."

Jane narrowed her eyes, "We both came from it. Watch."

On the TV, Chet held Jane by her neck, using his other hand to finger her furiously. He'd intersperse his finger-fucking with a sharp slap to her butt, arched and bouncing for him. She giggled and hung her tongue out, her hands pumping his cock vigorously. She was degrading herself, saying vulgar things that shocked Mona and ashamed Chet. Then, the finish wasn't even something that Mona thought could happen. Chet wrenched Jane up by her neck in his strong grip and spit into her grinning mouth, right onto her wide open tongue. This act pushed them both past the edge simultaneously. Jane quivered and crumpled, humping the air and orgasming loudly. Chet tended, pulling Jane to his chest, launching a rope of cum up her side. He pulsed a few times, his dick slowly lowering with each pump. Mona wanted to vomit.

Jane nodded her head slowly, like a wise sage, "It was a good one. Next Question: What fetishes did you tell me you had on our first date?"

Chet furrowed his brow, "I think, tanlines, anal, and... big boobs?"

Jane shook her head, "That last one was something you said, but not a fetish. There's another."

Mona looked down at herself. She saw her pale body, a body that had never done anal with her husband. She'd of course not really wanted to, but he'd never even asked. Did he not think she could be kinky? What was this wild man she was seeing on the screen? Was she someone he settled for? Was she not exciting?

"Time's up! It was impregnation," said Jane. "Oh well, time for punishment. Mona? Swat his nuts."

Chet cried out, "Wait!"

The brush swung down fast and hard, with real venom behind it. Mona was sleep-deprived, terrified of punishment, and consumed by intrusive thoughts of self-hatred. She didn't fully process the act as she did it. Once she looked down at the wriggling balls in her hand, the scrotal skin dotted with numerous pink bristle marks, she realized she was hurting something precious. Chet was roaring, his body turned red. His face was purple from screaming.

"Last Question: When was the only time someone saw us fucking?"

Chet looked at Jane, "What? Never."

Jane raised her eyebrows, "Wrong. We were caught once."

"What?" Chet was baffled. He had no idea of this.

A moment passed. Jane said, "Time's up. Your mom caught us once. When you were hitting me from the back in your room?"

Chet's face grew pale, "Oh, no. When you asked to be up against the window?"

Jane bit her lip, "Yeah. She was outside."

Chet shuddered, repulsed, "You didn't tell me!? My mom!? Was it the whole time?"

Jane looked at Mona, "Time to make him pay."

Mona raised the brush. Chet panicked, "Nonono! Wait! Please! Mona, don't--"

It was him or her. His balls met the thin, hard plastic spines of the brush quickly. They bit down into his flesh like dozens of needles. They punched into his nut meat and impaled searing pain directly into his aspect of manhood. Chet thought he was dying. His chest hurt. His lungs burned. His throat was raw. None of these sensations even registered against the body-breaking anguish radiating from his testicles. He contorted in his bindings, writhing futilely automatically, as though the movement might shake out some of his pain.

Mona caught her breath, tears in her eyes. Her husband's balls were red, beaten into discoloration by her own hands. She felt sick. Jane licked her lips and said, "Chet, how do your balls feel?"

Chet, weeping, could barely catch his breath to answer, "It hurts! Oh God, it hurts!"

Jane nodded excitedly, "Do you want them to stop hurting?"

"Please! Yes!"

Jane sighed in relief, "Glad to hear it. All you need to do, Mona, is tell him it's okay if he fucks me."

Chet screamed, "You crazy bitch! What the hell's wrong with you!?"

Jane held the remote, running her thumb along the button longingly. Mona recoiled at its sight. She clenched her fists in rage. She trembled. She broke down sobbing. She shook her head, weeping, knowing what her denial would mean. Jane stood there, not yet sure she understood, "Mona? Is that a 'no'?"

Mona felt her body move on its own. She had broken, and was beyond reason. She would stop this torture. She leapt up, knocking the remote out of Jane's hand. It clattered across the room. Jane was astonished at the sudden burst of speed--wasn't this bitch going on no sleep? Mona howled, unhinged, and launched forward like a maelstrom. She tore forward, Jane was unable to parry the strikes, some blocked but most getting a glancing blow on her. Her guard wore, she briefly split her arms, mostly trying to see her attacker, and this instant was pierced by a detonation of pain in her lower body.

Jane collapsed, it felt like her ovaries had melted inside her. In slow-motion, as she fell to her knees, she saw Mona's fist retract from her lower stomach--a direct shot to her womb. Jane dropped her hands to clutch herself in pain, but Mona was already following up with a shin kick to her pussy. The shin bone split her lips, connecting to her clit. Jane screamed in a high pitch that could burst eardrums. Jane fell, rolling back and forth on the ground. Mona bolted to the remote, removing the batteries from it and throwing them to the side. The empty remote fell to the floor. Mona looked up to see Jane slowly rising.

Mona stood, naked, tired, and enraged, against the woman dressed in black sweats who'd threatened to take her future from her. They charged each other. Mona dropped down, sliding on her knees for an instant and twisting. She caught a punch and thrust her shoulder under it, twisting and lifting. Jane was flung over her foe, slamming back down into the ground hard. She spat out air, face up on the ground, dazed. How was she getting beaten by this bitch? Before she'd collected herself, Mona had sat onto her. Mona's legs wrapped around Jane, pinning her arms to her sides, and locked her ankles behind Jane's waist. Mona glared down at Jane. Jane looked up at Mona, a bit of drool falling onto her face. She muttered, "Uh oh."

Mona reached down and grabbed the sweatshirt, digging her fingers into the factory-made holes. She pulled, ripping the sweater open, exposing Jane's--surprisingly large breasts. The sweater didn't compliment her at all. Her body was tan, but her breasts were milky white with clearly defined tan lines. Mona took a nipple between her thumb and index finger and pulled as hard as she could, twisting and pinching violently on Jane's tits. Jane screamed in pain, lifting off the ground while she was mauled. "Get off me you bitch!" she screamed.

Mona pulled her hands off Jane's nipples harshly, then slapped the wobbling tit flesh. Jane cried out in pain as her gorgeous girls were smacked around and beaten. They flopped back and forth from the barrage of slaps. Then, Jane found her fury. She kicked hard, lifting into the air a foot, and twisted. She slammed Mona sideways to the floor, dislodging her arms. She uppercut Mona cleanly, knocking her senseless.

Jane stood, saying, "Have you ever been knocked out? It's not so black-and-white like in the movies. It's only rarely a 'lights-out' situation. No, more likely you're half-in and half-hour, stumbling and responsive but incoherent and unable to form memory. Gotta suck taking my right hand to the chin."

First, she tied Mona up again with the cord. She bound her arms behind her back, and her legs together, leaving her on the floor. She retrieved the remote and grabbed the batteries. Then, she had an idea. She smiled and grabbed their television remote. She knocked out the batteries inside it--four AAs. She took the batteries over to Mona and flipped her. Mona was lain out, face down, and Jane lay down across her back. She held up a battery to the ceiling, as though inspecting it, and said, "I sure hope you're awake enough for this."

She shoved the battery into Mona's asshole. Mona's head shot up, squealing. She kicked uselessly. In went the next battery, completely buried into Mona's asshole. It bumped into the first, pushing it in deeper and twisting it askew. Mona felt the hard, clinking metal inside her shifting and rolling. The third one went in next, and it pushed them in deeper. The second one doubled up with the third, stretching her colon wide. It was a small distance, but for her virgin hole it was a tight squeeze. The fourth battery pushed onto the third battery, which pushed onto the first, sliding the whole column in deeper, rubbing against the second battery which was to the side. This friction caught and slipped, vibrating the batteries as they went in.

Mona moaned, a sound she didn't intend to make. Jane laughed, burying her finger into Mona's ass up to the base and wriggling it around, "We wouldn't want any to fall out."

She cackled at the sound of Mona's cries, relishing Mona's bucking and wiggling. "Dance, slut! Haha, bounce that ass for me." She pumped her finger and slapped Mona's ass.

She stood, kicking Mona over so she was face-up on the floor. Her tied arms thrust her chest up and her head back. Jane looked down at her, and her mouth watered. She stared at the pale tits, splayed to each side, and she wanted to hurt them. She reached into her duffel bag and withdrew two alligator clamps connected by a thin chain. She bit one clamp onto each of Mona's nipples, and Mona began whimpering. Her cries started to grow in volume, building until she was screaming in pain and shaking. Jane smiled, grabbing the chain and lifting. She pulled Mona's tits up into cones, tugging on her nipples hard. Mona screamed, jumping and sitting up to relieve the pain.

Jane planted her bare foot onto Mona's face and shoved, giving slack onto the chain. Mona fell back hard onto her back with Jane's foot on her face. Then, trapped, Mona felt her nipples burning again as Jane yanked up again on her clamped nipples. Mona wailed in pain, but Jane tuned it out. Chet had finally regained his senses, and begged Jane to stop, "Please! You're hurting her!"

Jane felt spurred on by this--her torture was working. She was hurting the woman who'd stolen Chet from her, and all the while Chet was forced to reflect on his terrible decision. She let the chain fall slack, and Mona, panting to catch her breath, rolled around in pain, laying still on her side after a minute. Jane watched Mona's chest rise and fall, the motion hypnotic, and she watched her breasts. She raised her foot high. Mona's eyes were shut, but they opened when Chet screamed, "Noooo!"

Mona didn't even register that Jane's heel had slammed down onto her soft boobs, until the pain hit her. Mona screamed and bucked on the floor, but Jane bore down harder, leaning on her foot, grinding it back and forth. She opened her mouth, grinning. Chet was weeping, "Jane! Jane stop!"

Jane finished her beating by punching Mona in her lower belly. Mona coughed out saliva, wheezing in pain. Jane towered over her, watching tears roll down her pathetic face. Jane held up the shock collar remote, and said, "Hey, Mona? What setting do you think is appropriate punishment? Scale of 1 to 10?"