Wife’s Stress Reliever

 Wife’s Stress Reliever - By kickthem 02-16-2011

My name is Ted Wilson and I am my wife’s stress reliever. Sandy has an extremely high-pressure job at a major engineering firm. Not only do the responsibilities of her job create extreme stress, but also the individuals with whom she works. Most of them are chauvinistic men and are resentful of her position in the company and her intelligence.

It all started several months ago when she arrived home exhausted, angry and unbearably crabby. I knew something had to be done. I asked her to tell me what had happened to upset her to such a degree.

She explained that she had come up with a solution to a very difficult problem and had been working out the fine details with a co-worker she thought she could trust. However, he stabbed her in the back and presented the work to the project manager, taking full credit for himself. She was furious when she found out and when she tried to explain what really happened, the project manager refused to believe her. He actually told her to her face that he didn’t think she was capable of such excellent work.

When she heard that, she told me her first instinct was to kick the son-of-a-bitch right in the balls.

I thought about this for a moment and then said, “Honey, if it will make you feel better, you can take out your frustrations on me. You may kick me in the balls and pretend it’s your no-good manager.”

A strange look washed over Sandy’s face. Then I noticed a look in her eye that terrified me. She said, “Ted, I really appreciate your offer, but I don’t think it would be a good idea. The way I feel right now I’d probably turn your balls to mush.”

I shivered at her words, but continued, “I suppose that’s possible, but I think your instincts would take over and you’d hold back just enough so that it wouldn’t happen.”

“I’m not so sure,” she countered. “The way I felt when that – that condescending asshole told me I wasn’t capable of doing the work I had really done was beyond anger. It was pure rage. If I had the chance to kick his balls I don't’ think I would stop until they were completely crushed.”

“But that was then… the heat of the moment,” I suggested. “You’re much calmer now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but if I start thinking about it the rage begins to build again. Believe me; I don’t think you’d want your balls anywhere near my foot.”

At this point I’d like to mention that I have a strong foot and shoe fetish. Sandy not only accepts this, she truly enjoys it and we frequently engage in activities that cater to my eccentricities. So normally, having my balls near her foot is quite pleasant.

“Sandy,” I stated firmly, “you’ve been a wonderful wife for the entire time we’ve been married. Not every woman would be so accepting of my fetish. I think offering myself to you in a way that could help relieve your stress is the least I can do. And besides, it’s not healthy for you to keep it all bottled up. I’m more than willing to take the pain if it will make you feel better.”

Sandy looked me squarely in the eye. “You are probably crazy, because you know I could lose control and really hurt you. But you trust me enough to let me kick your balls.” She paused and then said, “If that doesn’t show true love, I don’t what does.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Yes, dear. I hope we don’t regret it, but I will gladly kick your balls if it helps me get rid of my anger.”

I gave her a hug. “You’ll see. It will work out fine and we’ll both be happier, even if I am sore down there.”

“I guarantee you you’ll be sore,” Sandy teased. “Let’s hope that’s all that happens.

Nervously, I got to my feet and said, “What’s the best way to do this? Should I just stand in front of you with my clothes on?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sandy mused. “I want you completely naked. I want to see your balls hanging down – defenseless.”

I swallowed and smiled. “Okay, whatever you say. You’ll take your high heels off, won’t you?”

“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “They stay on! If I were kicking that jerk at the office I would definitely have my shoes on.”

I looked down at Sandy’s feet. She was wearing a pair of black pumps with three-inch heels; not stiletto thin, but not chunky either. Very appropriate for the office. As I gazed at her lovely feet and shoes, my cock began to get hard.

“All right,” she said, somewhat impatiently. “Let’s get on with this. Get undressed – now!”

The sharpness of her tone worried me a bit, but I quickly removed my clothes and stood before her naked. My cock stood hard and proud.

“What’s with that?” she smirked. “The thought of getting your balls crunched turns you on?”

“Ahhhh… well… Not really, Sandy. I was just enjoying looking at your feet.”

“Hmmmph!” she snorted. “They’re not going to be giving that thing any pleasure today. I suspect after a good solid kick or two you won’t be quite so aroused.”

At that point Sandy rolled the waistband of her skirt up, exposing more of her lovely legs. She swung her leg back and forth a few times, making sure she had free range of movement. When she was satisfied, she said, “All right. I’m ready. I’ve been thinking about what that guy said and I’m starting to get really angry again. Stand in front of me and spread your legs. Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together so you won’t flinch and try to block my kick.”

I was beginning to have second thoughts about my offer. Sandy looked really angry. And she was angry at men. I was a man. I was beginning to doubt if she could differentiate between me and the man she really wanted to nail.

But I stood in the proper position and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

SPLOTTT

Sandy’s foot flew through the air in a graceful arc and landed squarely against my balls. I gasped and couldn’t believe how much it hurt. I groaned and sank to the floor to my knees.

“What’s the matter? Your balls hurt?” Sandy laughed. “Get up right now so I can do it again.”

I looked at her as I struggled to my feet. Her eyes were focused on my balls. The intensity was frightening.

I resumed the proper position. Surprisingly, my cock hadn’t wilted even though there was a sickening ache radiating from my balls up through my stomach.

“Close your eyes,” Sandy ordered. “Now that you know how this feels I suspect you’ll flinch when you see the next kick coming.”

I obeyed and closed my eyes. Nothing happened for a moment or two. Then…

SPLOTTTT

Again my wife’s beautiful high-heeled foot thudded powerfully against my balls. I don’t know if she kicked harder this time or it just felt that way because I was already hurting. But I do know it really did HURT!

This time I collapsed to the floor in a pathetic heap and curled into the fetal position clutching my balls. My cock instantly wilted.

“That’s better!” Sandy gloated. “That’s got those pathetic balls of yours really suffering now. Hurry and get up. I want to do this one more time. This is really making me feel a lot better.”

I moaned pitifully but knew better than to protest. I had promised her this and wasn’t about to renege. I only hoped my balls could survive another kick.

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get up and assume the position. I looked at Sandy and could tell a lot of the stress and anger had left her. My idea seemed to be working. This knowledge gave me the strength to steady myself for another kick.

“I want you to think about this last kick for a while,” she said as she paced back and forth in front of me. “Think about how you screwed me over. Think about your disgusting attitude that women are worthless. And then think about how much my foot makes your balls ache.”

Sandy was reliving the event from the office. I realized her anger was increasing again, nearing rage. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t dare. I had to let her to this. I could only hope she didn’t damage my balls permanently.

She walked back and forth in front of me for a moment or two. I became hypnotized by her footsteps; how firmly she planted her shoe as she paced.

Abruptly, she stopped and turned and faced me. “I want you to watch this one,” she said. “Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. And don’t you dare flinch. If you do, I’ll kick you again. If you hold still and I land this one solidly, that will be it for today.”

I nodded and put my hands behind me and braced myself.

“Look at my foot,” Sandy said. “Keep your eyes on it as it slams into your balls.”

My gaze was riveted to her pretty foot. Any other time I would have been hard as a rock. But now… frankly, I was terrified and my cock was as limp as a wet noodle.

Sandy stepped back and then I watched with trepidation as the toe of her pump came flying directly at my crotch. I ****** myself to stand absolutely still.

SPLATTTTT

The sound of her shoe connecting with my balls was absolutely sickening. The force lifted me off my feet. It also completely drained all the strength out of my legs. I crumpled to the floor in a pathetic heap, rolling in agony and gasping, “Oh, my balls, my balls, what have you done to my balls?”

Sandy stood over me, a wicked smirk in her face. She moved and placed the foot that had just laid waste to my balls beneath my face and said, “Kiss my shoe. Kiss the shoe that just ruined you.”

Under normal circumstances I would gladly kiss Sandy’s shoe. But now I could barely draw breath. I struggled and managed to plant a light kiss on the toe of her shoe.

“You are pathetic,” she mocked. “I hope this has taught you a lesson. In the future you’d better treat me and all women with sincere respect. If not, next time I kick you will make you think these were love taps.”

I lay on the floor, curled in a ball, unable to move. I heard Sandy’s footsteps fade away as she left the room.

I don’t know how long it was before the pain finally eased off, but the next thing I was aware of was Sandy kneeling next to me.

“Ted, are you going to be alright?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

“I – I think so,” I breathed slowly. “I think I can move now.

Carefully, I rolled over and sat up on the floor. My balls still ached, but much less than before. I was afraid to look at them, fearing they might be deformed, but I did and to my relief they were just a little swollen. A little black and blue, too.

“Let me see,” Sandy said as she pushed my legs apart a bit.

“Careful, dear,” I gasped.

“Sorry,” she said. “Hmmm… they don’t look too bad. I’ll get you an ice bag to put on them to keep the swelling down.

She headed out to the kitchen and returned with a bag of ice. Carefully, she placed it against my battered testicles.

“Ahhhhhhowww!” I shouted. “That’s cold!”

Sandy giggled. “What did you expect? It’s ice. Now hold it there for a while. It should numb the ache.”

I held the ice bag against my groin while Sandy knelt beside me, watching.

“Starting to feel a little better?” she asked.

“A little.”

“You know, I really appreciate what you did for me. That was very brave. Not many guys would let an angry woman have a free go at his balls. And those that would no doubt would quit after one kick. But you… you let me do it THREE times.”

“Sandy, I love you so much and I just couldn’t stand seeing the way you were. I had to do something, even if it meant absorbing some punishment to my balls.”

Sandy paused for a moment and then said, a note of hesitancy in her voice, “You realize that nothing at work will change. Those assholes will still treat me the same as ever. And I know I will build up more stress and rage. I was wondering…”

“What, hon?”

“I was wondering if we could set up a special night, once a month, where I could take out my frustrations on your balls. I know it’s asking an awful lot, but I feel so much better.”

I stared at Sandy. Her request was shocking. When I made my offer I had no idea how it would work, or if it would be successful. But, it apparently was a resounding success, because now Sandy was asking for more.

“Geez, Sandy, I’m not so sure… What you did to me REALLY hurts. It was definitely worth it now that I see how much it helped you. But on a regular basis… I don’t know if my balls can take it.”

“I don’t blame you for being reluctant,” Sandy admitted. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you during the rest of the month. I’ll give you footjobs that will make you cum so hard you’ll think being kicked in the balls is a good thing.”

The thought of Sandy’s feet wringing my cum out was too much to resist.

“Of course, Sandy. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent!” she gushed. “I doubt whether your balls will be up to it tonight, but you let me know just as soon as they are. My feet will make your cock feel so good you’ll hit the ceiling with your cum.”

*****

Sandy’s stress level is much lower these days. Our monthly sessions have helped a lot. I can’t truthfully say I look forward to having my balls nearly annihilated, but the rewards make it tolerable. She nearly made good on her promise of making me hit the ceiling with my cum. It is quite amazing that her feet – feet that are capable of inflicting enormous pain on my balls – are also so highly skilled at manipulating my cock to mind-blowing pleasure.

She doesn’t kick me every month. Sometimes it’s just pure, old-fashioned squeezing. She’ll shove her hand down my pants, entwine her fingers around my balls so they can’t escape, and then clamp down. She will continue to squeeze until I sink to the floor and begin begging her to let go. Then she laughs and squeezes even harder. The first time she did this I wretched and nearly vomited.

When she has completely incapacitated me with her squeezing, she finally backs off with the pressure, but she doesn’t let go. She tells me what a miserable excuse for a human being I am, that I have no respect for women and that she is going to squeeze my balls until they burst.

The squeezing session usually lasts about an hour. She varies the pressure from light to unbearable, but she never releases my balls until the very end. Squeezing nights end with me curled up on the floor unable to move while Sandy heads off to take a long relaxing bubble bath.

*****

It is very early Saturday morning. I am lying in bed. My balls are a complete mess. My entire scrotum is black and blue and has two distinct bruises and is swollen to nearly twice its normal size. I think this time Sandy may have gone too far.

Last night she came home from work angrier than I’d ever seen her. And it just happened that it was our regular night for stress relief. She strode up to me with fire in her eyes and simply said, “I hope your balls are strong enough to take what I’m going to do to them tonight. Go into the kitchen and get undressed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Terrified, I watched her head upstairs. Then I headed off to the kitchen and removed my clothes and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Sandy’s footsteps coming down the stairs. When she entered the kitchen, my jaw dropped in awe. She was wearing a tight sleeveless T-shirt, a mini-skirt that barely covered the bottoms of her lush rear end, and a pair of absolutely wicked looking pumps. Made of black leather, the shoes had about a one-half inch thick platform sole and heels almost five inches high. The heels tapered elegantly to about three quarters of an inch at the base.

She was carrying a length of rope on one hand. She had never tied me up during our sessions, so I became concerned about what she might have in mind. I found out all too soon.

“Stand along the short end of the kitchen table,” she ordered.

When I had done this, she began to make use of the rope. She made a small noose on one end and slipped it over my scrotum and then snuggled it down tight above my balls. She gave it a test tug to make sure it wouldn’t pull off. It wouldn’t. Then she ran the rope over the tabletop and down the opposite and tied the other end to one of the cross braces. I was now standing right against one edge of the table. My balls were pulled out and lying totally defenseless on the tabletop.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Sandy smirked and climbed up on the table. Nervously, I looked up at her with pleading eyes. This was the most frightened I’d ever been during one of sessions, and it hadn’t really even started yet.

Sandy then walked up to me, and placing one hand on top of my head to help her balance, put the sole of her left shoe on top of my right ball. At first, she just stepped down very lightly. Then, without warning, she pressed down very hard, flattening my ball to less than half its normal dimension.

“Auukkk!” I gagged.

Sandy laughed and then put the sole of her right shoe on top of my left ball, again, very lightly at first. Now that I knew what was coming, the waiting was almost as bad as the deed.

This time she teased me with a few fairly light pressings, still painful, but easily bearable. Just as I was beginning to relax a bit, the big squeeze came. She pressed her foot down and held it there, really squashing my ball flat.

I began to shake and pound the table with my fists, begging her to ease off. She probably held her foot down for only 15 or 20 seconds, but it might as well have been 15 or 20 minutes. This was pain unlike any other.

“Looks like that really hurts,” she taunted as she stood over me. “Well, get used to it, because I’m just getting started.”

Next, Sandy turned around so my face was pressed against the backs of her legs. She lifted her heels and centered each one directly over the top of one of my balls. Slowly she lowered herself, making sure my abused organs wouldn’t slip out. When she was certain she had my balls properly imprisoned beneath her shoe heels, she began bouncing up and down.

“Aghhh! Oh Sandy… Aghhh! That hurts too much. Agghhh!”

I looked down and was horrified at the sight of what she was doing. My balls were compressed and bulging out under her heels. The heels were making a deep dent. And every time she bounced, the dent became deeper.

Pure, undiluted agony radiated from my balls up through my belly. Had I not been pressed against the backs of Sandy’s legs, I surely would have slumped forward.

As I gagged and squealed, I kept thinking to myself, ‘Please stop… please stop… I can’t take this…’

Unfortunately, she didn’t stop. Apparently she was really enjoying this. She must have kept my balls under her heels for at least 15 minutes. It wasn’t until I began to sag limply against her that she finally lifted them off.

Even that didn’t provide much relief. And my balls didn’t immediately return to normal shape. She had left clear, deep impressions of her shoe heels in me.

“Oh, look what I’ve done to you!” Sandy gloated. “That’s really cool. Maybe those marks will be permanent.”

I was barely able to support myself. My whole body ached. Even the slightest motion sent new waves of agony through my being.

Mercifully, Sandy gave me a short break before continuing. The deep heel impressions on my balls gradually faded away, but the heels had left a distinct bruise in the exact shape of their base.

“Hmmm, too bad the dents went away,” Sandy complained. “I do like those bruises, though.”

When I finally caught my breath and was able to stand with only a little discomfort, Sandy resumed torturing my balls. This time she stood sideways in front of me. She pressed the side of her right foot tight to the base of my cock so the sole of her shoe was centered over my balls. At the start she used her heel as a pivot point, pressing down on my balls like she was working a gas pedal. Had my balls not been as sore as they were, the pressure she applied at first likely wouldn’t have hurt too badly. But in their current state, she might as well have been driving a truck over them.

The sounds of agony escaping my lips only served to amuse and encourage her. She pumped my balls in this manner for several minutes.

Then the unexpected happened. I guess I should have anticipated it, given her mood and the severity of her torture this evening, but I never really believed she would go quite that far.

Sandy lifted her heel off the table and rested the sole of her shoe on top of my balls. Then she lifted her other foot off the table so that her entire weight was compressing my balls. It hurt so much I was unable to utter a sound. All the air escaped my lungs as my arms flailed helplessly. Mercifully, I passed out.

*****

I was upstairs in bed when I woke up. A light sheet covered me. The clock on the nightstand showed 12:30 AM. I have no idea how she did it, but Sandy had carried me up by herself. Every part of me absolutely oozed pain, the worst of which was centered about my crushed testicles. I managed to raise the sheet enough to be able to look down and assess the damage. I was horrified at what I saw. My scrotum was grotesquely swollen. The two dark heel bruises stood out in stark contrast to the lighter overall discoloration.

Oh, what had my lovely wife done to me? And where was she? The house was very quiet. I didn’t know if Sandy had gone out and left me suffering on my own or what.

I lay on the bed, motionless. Any movement was too painful to bear. I don’t know how long it had been, but I heard the garage door open and then close. The sound of Sandy’s high heels clicking on the hardwood drew near. She appeared in the bedroom doorway, a look of genuine concern on her lovely face.

“Oh, Ted,” she was close to tears. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I was… I was so caught up in the act that I really lost control.

I just stared at her dumbly.

“My friend Vera, the doctor, is on her way over to examine you. I’ve explained to her what happened. She will be able to tell if I’ve damaged you permanently.”

I heard the doorbell ring.

“There she is. I’ll be right back.”

Sandy rushed down the stairs and I heard her speaking with Vera. I closed my eyes and waited as I heard them coming back up the stairs, two sets of high heels clicking. After what Sandy’s heels had done to me, the sound was ominous.

“Ted, Sandy has explained your arrangement to me and how she lost control of herself tonight. It is going to hurt, but I need to examine your testicles to determine just how much damage she’s done.”

Sandy pulled down the sheet that had been covering me and stepped aside. Vera moved in and pushed my legs apart. I groaned as my balls slumped down.

“Sandy,” Vera said, “go get an ice bag. We need to reduce the swelling so I can get a better look at what’s going on.”

Sandy quickly headed down the kitchen to retrieve the ice. While she was gone, Vera asked some questions.

“Ted, do you have sharp pains in your testicles, or is it a dull ache.”

“Ache,” I mumbled.

“Is the pain confined to just your testicles, or does it radiate up into your abdomen?”

“It’s everywhere,” I whispered.

“Does one testicle hurt more than the other?”

“No. Both the same.”

At that point Sandy returned with the ice bag. Vera took it from her and positioned it against my swollen scrotum. I flinched with the contact, but Vera carefully made sure the ice was in the proper position.

“We’ll let that work for about fifteen minutes or so and then I’ll take a closer look,” Vera said.

Vera asked Sandy for some more details about what she had done. I relived the entire ordeal as Sandy spoke. As the minutes passed, the ice numbed the agony in my balls.

“Okay, I think it’s been long enough,” Vera decided. “Let me take a good look at what’s going on down there.”

She pulled the ice bag away. I noticed that the swelling had subsided some, but the two heel bruises stood out in all their glory.

With very light, practiced motions, Vera began to manipulate my balls. It hurt, but the pain was bearable. I was impressed at her thoroughness and skill. She felt around for at least five minutes before she finally seemed satisfied.

“I have good news for you both,” she said. “I didn’t find any signs of rupture or other serious damage. The bruising and swelling are just indications of the abuse.”

“What a relief,” Sandy sighed. “I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I had ruined him.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I gave her a small smile and squeezed back.

“Keep the ice on for another hour,” Vera instructed. Then wait an hour. After that, put the ice back on for another hour. That should further reduce the swelling and temper the trauma.”

She paused and then said to Sandy, “Testicles are surprisingly tough, but they were not meant to endure the full weight of an angry woman standing on them in high heels. You came awfully close to rupturing them.”

Sandy nodded and said, “I know I made a huge mistake. I let my anger take over and I lost my perspective. It’s those pigs in my office…”

At this point I managed to speak. “This was originally my idea, the stress relief night. And until now everything went well. I’ve endured some very sore balls to help Sandy blow off steam. And… and it’s all been worth it.”

“I can’t imagine many husbands doing what Ted has done for me,” Sandy admitted. “And tonight I crossed a line.”

“Yes,” Vera interjected. “And you are both fortunate that no permanent damage appears to have been done. Now, let the ice do its job. Ted, relax as much as you can. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon to check up and make sure things are still all right.”

“Thank you so much, Vera,” Sandy said as she escorted her friend out.

“If I were you, I’d forget about stress relief night in its present form,” I heard Vera say as the two women headed downstairs.

I took a deep breath and tried to relax. In a few moments Sandy returned. She pulled up the chair from her makeup vanity and sat down beside the bed. She was still wearing the wicked pumps with which she nearly destroyed my balls. She casually crossed one long leg over the other and let her shoe slip off her heel. I became mesmerized by the elegant dangling piece of footwear. I could feel her gaze boring into me and I raised my eyes to hers. The intensity of her stare terrified me.

"You’re not going to follow Vera’s advice, are you?” I said.

“No,” she said with blunt honesty. “I enjoy this too much to quit. In fact, I really need it. Our sessions have kept my stress at a manageable level. So, dangerous or not, stress relief night will continue.”

I sighed as my eyes drifted back to the tantalizing, dangling pump. I groaned as I felt the familiar stirring in my groin.

Last night she came home from work angrier than I’d ever seen her. And it just happened that it was our regular night for stress relief. She strode up to me with fire in her eyes and simply said, “I hope your balls are strong enough to take what I’m going to do to them tonight. Go into the kitchen and get undressed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Terrified, I watched her head upstairs. Then I headed off to the kitchen and removed my clothes and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Sandy’s footsteps coming down the stairs. When she entered the kitchen, my jaw dropped in awe. She was wearing a tight sleeveless T-shirt, a mini-skirt that barely covered the bottoms of her lush rear end, and a pair of absolutely wicked looking pumps. Made of black leather, the shoes had about a one-half inch thick platform sole and heels almost five inches high. The heels tapered elegantly to about three quarters of an inch at the base.

She was carrying a length of rope on one hand. She had never tied me up during our sessions, so I became concerned about what she might have in mind. I found out all too soon.

“Stand along the short end of the kitchen table,” she ordered.

When I had done this, she began to make use of the rope. She made a small noose on one end and slipped it over my scrotum and then snugged it down tight above my balls. She gave it a test tug to make sure it wouldn’t pull off. It wouldn’t. Then she ran the rope over the tabletop and down the opposite and tied the other end to one of the cross braces. I was now standing right against one edge of the table. My balls were pulled out and lying totally defenseless on the tabletop.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Sandy smirked and climbed up on the table. Nervously, I looked up at her with pleading eyes. This was the most frightened I’d ever been during one of sessions, and it hadn’t really even started yet.

...

“Thank you so much, Vera,” Sandy said as she escorted her friend out.

“If I were you, I’d forget about stress relief night in its present form,” I heard Vera say as the two women headed downstairs.

I took a deep breath and tried to relax. In a few moments Sandy returned. She pulled up the chair from her makeup vanity and sat down beside the bed. She was still wearing the wicked pumps with which she nearly destroyed my balls. She casually crossed one long leg over the other and let her shoe slip off her heel. I became mesmerized by the elegant dangling piece of footwear. I could feel her gaze boring into me and I raised my eyes to hers. The intensity of her stare terrified me.

"You’re not going to follow Vera’s advice, are you?” I said.

“No,” she said with blunt honesty. “I enjoy this too much to quit. In fact, I really need it. Our sessions have kept my stress at a manageable level. So, dangerous or not, stress relief night will continue.”

I sighed as my eyes drifted back to the tantalizing, dangling pump. I groaned as I felt the familiar stirring in my groin.