Sevrian's Story

by Sevrian

I met her in the most unexpected way. Sitting in a bright, sun-lit coffee shop alternately reading, working up a serious buzz on espressos, and gossiping with the staff, I found myself half listening to a conversation going on behind me. One voice, getting increasingly heated, I knew – another coffee shop regular who I always tried to ignore due to his loud opinions and fondness for his own voice; the other was light, calm, female, and as cold as a blade being slid up the inside of my thigh. Unable to resist, I turned on my stool and saw her for the first time.

I’m not sure even now of her age, but she was young; maybe twenty, maybe not. Sitting back on one of the soft leather sofas, her legs crossed above the knee, she was slender, elegant, and dressed head to toe in black. Her pale, heart-shaped face, untouched by makeup, was framed by long dark hair, and her stiletto-heeled knee-boot tapped on the table in front of her to punctuate her words.

For a moment I was so arrested by the sight I must have simply stared, open-mouthed; and in that moment she saw me. Her ice-blue eyes pinned me to the wall behind, and in half a second opened me, read me, and possessed me. Stunned by the intensity of her gaze it was a second before I realised she’d actually spoken.

‘So what do you think?’

Focussed now on me, her voice seemed perhaps a degree or two warmer; but even so it had a hard edge that, combined with my clear view of the cruelly sharp point of her boot, left me with butterflies in my stomach, a tingling excitement in my cock, and my testicles trying to crawl back up into my body.

‘What?’ I stammered.

‘We were discussing,’ she snapped with a murderous glance at her opponent, ‘the equality or otherwise of the genders.’ She nodded to the low armchair directly across the table from her, and without even thinking to resist I picked up my half-finished espresso and joined her. ‘This gentleman,’the word was launched with subzero distaste, ‘seems to think men are stronger, and therefore better, than women. I, not surprisingly, do not. As a man,’ icicles again encrusted the word, ‘I’d be interested to know what you think.’

Nervously I glanced at her debating partner, now looking thoroughly pissed-off to have been sidelined. But under that glacial gaze I couldn’t help saying what I really thought; saying things one man never says in front of another.

‘Well, I guess men are stronger in general in terms of sheer muscle; but stronger overall? No way. Our extra muscle’s only there so that we can actually be useful to women. If that’s our claim to superiority then we’re pretty much fucked. No man can prove himself stronger than a woman if she’s prepared to use her natural advantage. The only reason men have got away with dominating and fucking up the world for so long is that women have been too decent to put us in our place.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Her previous sparring-partner was not impressed. His face, already blotchy with anger was now going purple as a bruise. ‘No fucking woman’s got a natural advantage over me!’

‘Well maybe not.’ I replied quietly; aware all the time of her eyes on me, assessing me. ‘Maybe you’re not actually a man. But if you’re intact,’ I glanced briefly and significantly down to where his groin was hidden below his wobbling beer belly, ‘then every woman in the world could take you down with one kick. And frankly, given what we men have done to the world, done to women, that’s what we deserve.’

Even as the words left my mouth I couldn’t believe I was saying them. It’s not that I didn’t believe it; it’s just you don’t say those things in public. You don’t admit in front of other men that you’re one of the ones who know; one of the men who admit their inferiority, admit that we’re not here to dominate but here to serve, if only women would take what they deserve from us. For a moment I don’t think he could believe I’d said it either; but when my words finally sunk in they were simply too much. He slammed his cup down on the table, looked at both of us with an odd mixture of terror and contempt, pushed himself to his feet and stomped off without another word.

Alone now with her, I suddenly found myself aware of what I’d done, of what I’d said, and very, very aware both of her cold, precipitous beauty and of the vulnerable, tingling flesh between my thighs. She had moved to sit forward on her seat; watching the debate between her male playthings with the intensity of a cat its prey. Now, as I turned to face her she lounged back against the leather sofa, and for the first time I could pick out the swell of firm, high-set breasts under her severe black linen shirt.

‘Very good.’ Her voice now, although no less threatening, had picked up a lilt of excitement, and I felt my groin heat at the thought of what that might mean. ‘Tell me, is that what you really think?’

I looked at her, looked straight into those cold, beautiful eyes, and knew that this was a moment I couldn’t go back from; but there was never any doubt as to my answer.

‘Oh yes. I meant every word.’

And that was the first time that I felt her foot between my legs. Unable to see her move from where I sat, I almost yelped with shock as her booted right foot slid in between my thighs; but realising at once what she wanted I parted my legs and leant forward to disguise what was happening should anyone chance to look. With a slight smile of approval, she flexed her slim, beautifully toned thigh in its tight cotton leggings, and pressed the four inch heel of her boot into my groin. As I gripped the edge of the table and bit my lip in fear and excitement, she expertly probed between my legs. The soul of her boot crushed my rapidly erecting penis hard against my belly, and her cripplingly hard heel stabbed first into the soft flesh of my scrotum, then into the base of my cock, and finally, with a murmur of satisfaction at my barely suppressed whimper of pain, she scored a direct hit on my right ball – driving it up against the taught tendons of my groin and slowly and thoroughly crushing it.

Unable to help myself I doubled up over the table as, slowly, and with apparently total detachment, she ground her stiletto into my testicle. Despite biting my lip until it was almost bleeding I couldn’t help gasping and whimpering at the sickening waves and stabs of pain that welled up from my groin; and in some small, detached part of my mind, I thanked the coffee shop for the excessive volume of its music system. And then suddenly, the pressure on my ball was released. Looking up, startled, I saw the faintest hint of a smile on her face. And then before I could move, her heel was back; grating its way around the base of my cock and stabbing into my scrotum again. But although she twisted and stabbed with obvious expertise, she couldn’t seem to find her target. With a hiss of annoyance she briefly withdrew her foot from my groin.

‘Where is it?’ She snapped; the toe of her boot flicking back to pin the tip of my cock painfully against my body. And for the first time I touched her; well, touched her boot at least. With shaking hands I took the smooth, cold leather of her booted ankle in my hands and fitted her foot into my groin; directing her heel to where my other ball was hiding, pulled tight against my body on the left side of my cock. With a brief smile and nod of approval, she waited while I resumed my position braced against the table. And then with a single thrust of her beautiful thigh she reduced me to a helpless mass of agony, gasping and twitching as she rolled my ball up and down my groin, spearing it alternately against my rigid cock and my quivering thigh as I choked and whimpered and tried desperately not to scream.

And then suddenly it was gone. The pressure on my testicle withdrew, and I looked up through a haze of agony to see her finishing the last mouthful of her coffee, and standing primly up as if nothing had happened. For one dreadful moment I thought she was simply going to leave. But then, as I sat hunched and gasping over the table, with the pain from my tortured balls tearing through me in wave after sickening wave, she leant over me and whispered in my ear.

‘You have five minutes. I’ll wait outside for that long but no longer. Pull yourself together enough to walk and you can come with me. If you don’t you’ll never have the chance; and if I see you again all you’ll get is the kicking you deserve for leading me on and not performing. Understand?’

And with that, she was gone.

I almost missed the deadline. For the first couple of minutes I couldn’t even stand up let alone walk. It’s not that I didn’t try; but as soon as I attempted to move, twin bolts of agony shot up from my groin into my gut and it was all I could do not to vomit. I’d never known anything like it. I’d had one girlfriend before who I’d got into hurting me - giggling as she brought her knee up between my legs; and another who’d simply been violent – every argument we’d ever had settled with a swift, hard kick in the balls; but the skill of this woman was amazing. Without even being able to see what she was doing, and feeling only through four inches of stiletto heel, she’d crushed my testicles more thoroughly than any of those vicious, anger-driven kicks had ever done.

And whatever else she might have in store for me, I had to have it. Already I was addicted; fucked-up chemical dependant in love with her for what she’d done to me. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pushed myself to my feet, stood for a good thirty seconds holding the table while my stomach turned over and my head span; and then, gasping with every step as my swollen testicles rubbed together between my legs, I made my way to the door.

She was waiting under the shadow of a tree a few yards away. As I staggered towards her she glanced up briefly, and then simply turned and strode away at a speed I had to hobble agonisingly hard to keep up with; her stilettos sparking off the pavement with every step. It was only when I’d managed to draw level with her that she even spoke.

‘Do you have transport?’

‘Yes,’ I gasped; my voice absurdly cracked, ‘my car; in the car park across the square.’

‘Good. You may drive me home.’

Turning sharply and crossing the road, her slender legs scissoring hypnotically, she strode into and across the sunlit square without once glancing back to see if I was following her. It was only after she had disappeared down the concrete ramp of the underground car park and I’d hurried into its dim depths after her that I found she’d stopped. She was waiting, legs apart and fists resting on slender hips, in the dim pool of grubby yellow cast by one of the ceiling lights. I stopped in front of her. Gasping from the awful ache in my groin and gut, and more excited than I’d ever felt in my life. She nodded her head towards the packed rows of car roofs, diminishing into the gloom.

‘Which is yours?’

I told her; indicating the row with a shaking hand. And then, feeling like I was taking my life or at least the future of my manhood in my hands, I timidly, and with bowed head, asked to know her name. For a moment she simply stood in frozen silence; and I gritted my teeth and tried to prepare for the kick I was sure would come. But she didn’t kick me; not yet. Instead she answered with glacial control.

‘In public, when you have cause to address me – and you will only speak when I wish it – you may call me Ebony. When we are alone... well; how do you think you should address me?’

‘Mistress?’ I gasped; tensing myself again for the expected blow. But instead she simply nodded coldly and continued.

‘Yes. That will do. And what, pray tell, do I call you?’

And foolishly, I gave her my name.

The impact of her foot hitting my groin was like nothing I’d ever felt. The cruelly pointed toe of her boot landed with an anatomical exactness hardly to be believed; not pushing my balls up into the relative safety of the spaces between my cock and my thighs, but landing square on my left testicle, slamming it up against my pubic bone and practically lifting me off my feet with the force of the impact. I think I may have lost consciousness for a moment; certainly I don’t remember hitting the ground. But I do remember being there. I remember my body writhing on the concrete, completely out of my control, as it tried to get away from the pain. I remember hearing the echoing sound of a man screaming in unendurable torment, and realising in some part of my mind that the voice was mine. I remember the pain; I think I will always remember the pain of that first kick. And finally, I remember her voice. I remember the feel of her breath on my cheek as she hissed at me from an inch away.

‘You have no name but what I give you, creature, and don’t you ever forget it. You are my slave and my plaything until I decide I no longer have a use for you; and you will know this pain every time you disobey me, and every time it pleases me. Now I ask you once again: what do I call you?’

And between the wracking sobs that were the nearest thing I could manage to breathing, I ground my teeth against the indescribable pain in my groin, and choked out the answer I hoped with all my being was the right one.

‘Slave, mistress; you will call me slave.’

And with that I could do no more than curl up on myself around the agony and vomit bitter half-digested coffee onto the filthy concrete.

For some while she simply sat on her haunches beside me; watching me quiver and retch, and listening to me sob with pain. And then with surprising strength she hauled be over onto my back and, before I had even registered what was happening, she had unfastened my jeans and the slim, cold fingers of her right hand had thrust down between my legs and grasped my bruised and swollen scrotum. For a moment I was too shocked to even make a sound. But then, as her fingers clamped around the throbbing mass of my left testicle, the pain turned my vision to a blank white glare and I shrieked with all the power in my lungs. For what seemed an eternity I writhed in her grasp as she squeezed and probed at my ball. And then her hand withdrew, and I lay choking and retching again; hardly aware of her hands as they now equally dextrously went through my pockets.

‘For god’s sake stop whining slave.’ Her cold voice was like a full-force slap in the face. ‘I haven’t split you; not yet anyway. But if you carry on like this I just might. Kicking one of your pathetic little balls into mush might just make up for the way you’re making me wait. Well I’m not waiting any longer.’ She jingled my car keys in front of my tear-blurred eyes. ‘I’m going home. Either you drive me or I take your car and leave you here.’

Without another word she turned on her needle-pointed heel and clicked away across the concrete; and there was nothing I could do but pull my clothes together around me, push myself shaking and sobbing to my feet, and stagger off into the dimness after her lithe and beautiful figure...

Driving her home was such a blurred mix of pain, anticipation, fear and excitement I can hardly describe it. Although I can say it’s the one time in my life I’ve truly wished I drove an automatic; every time my left foot pressed down on the clutch my left ball, caught tight in the unforgiving denim of my jeans, pushed up between my thigh and my cock with a dagger like thrust of pain into my gut; and every time my foot came back up, the movement tugged my swollen testicle back down through the narrowing gap, and it was all I could do not to drive off the road as I struggled with the nauseating agony.

While I drove and suffered, Ebony sat in silence; neither looking at nor speaking to me except to give clipped, single word directions. In the golden light of the fading afternoon her face, as I snatched terrified glances at her profile, was as cool and smooth as marble. She sat straight-backed in the seat; her small, conical breasts stretching the clinging fabric of her shirt and her slim, athletic legs crossed again above the knee. I found myself wondering alternately what her breasts must look like, what it would feel like to have them in my hands, and what it would feel like to have the hard point of her slender knee slamming into my groin. All three thoughts were making me as erect as my clothed and seated state would allow; and that did nothing to help the pain in my balls.

Her home, when finally we reached it, turned out to be a top-floor flat in a small but rather exclusive terrace-conversion on the edge of town. Still Ebony said nothing as she led me into the building and up the tightly winding staircase to her door, which she unlocked and gestured me through. I walked through into a sparse and tastefully furnished living room, with a balcony overlooking tree-bordered parkland. I heard her enter and close the door behind her; turned, eyes respectfully lowered, and without warning received one of the things I’d been fantasising about: her right knee smacking into my groin.

Unable to contain a squeal of agony at the sickening explosion of pain between my legs I staggered backwards, my body crooked over and my hands hovering in front of my genitals, wanting to fasten protectively around my tortured manhood but in just too much pain to touch. In some part of my mind that could still think clearly I was aware that she probably hadn’t kneed me anything like as hard as she could’ve done, but then she didn’t need to with my balls in the state of vulnerability they already were. Managing to look up, despite the almost overwhelming urge to curl up into a quivering ball of misery on the floor, I saw her standing, legs apart and hands on hips again; her fingers drumming impatiently on the fabric of her short, tight skirt. Suddenly cold with fear I bit down on the pain, and with all my self-control, ****** myself to straighten up.

‘Better.’ She snapped. ‘Slave, I’m going to ask you a question, and you would do well to answer me truthfully. Do you understand?’

Gasping and swallowing against the nausea that was welling up into my throat, all I could do was nod.

‘Good. Then you are going to tell me, right now: did I catch you looking at my breasts while you were driving me home?’

I felt my body go cold all over. My mouth dried up and my scalp crawled as I realised how totally I was caught. What on earth could I say? Of course I’d been looking at her breasts, and of course she knew it. What was she going to do to me? There was nothing I could do but find out.

‘Yes mistress.’ I answered, in a voice that even in my ears was pathetic with terror. ‘Yes mistress, I was.’

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, sure that I was about to be kicked again, or maybe something worse; but no blow came. Instead she simply nodded, with a strange half smile on her face that made me cold all the way through. When she spoke, her voice was even quieter and calmer than before.

‘And what did you think of them slave? Do they please you? Do you want to see them naked? Do you want your mistress to show herself to you?’

This was more than I could cope with. Not knowing what on earth to do and terrified of getting it wrong, I realised I was almost crying as I struggled to answer.

‘Please mistress. I... I don’t know. I don’t know what to...’

‘The truth, slave;’ her voice was as hard suddenly as a whip on flesh; ‘tell me the truth.’

And miserably, I nodded again.

‘Yes mistress. Yes, I want to see them. I’m sorry mistress.’

She stepped towards me, and my whole body convulsed in terror; but she didn’t hit me. Instead, she stepped up so close to me I could feel her breath on my shrinking flesh as she whispered in her coldest tones.

‘Understand this, slave. You are never going to see me naked; never, unless I decide different. You are going to have to earn every last glimpse of my body slave; earn it with service, earn with obedience, and earn it with pain.’

The fingers of her left hand brushed up between my legs with a teasing and totally terrifying stoke that left me gasping.

‘Now,’ she continued, stepping back, ‘I think you need to be punished for your presumption, don’t you? Strip, quickly.’

With shaking hands, and still gasping from the throbbing pain in my balls, I dragged off my clothes to stand shivering in the cool evening air. Ebony said nothing, but walked slowly around me, examining me from every angle. Finally, coming to stand close in to me again, she reached for my groin and I winced in involuntary fear. But her cool, strong fingers closed not around my scrotum, but around the half erect length of my penis.

‘Your body’s acceptable for now slave,’ she whispered in her coldest tones, ‘but by the next time I see you, I expect you to have begun toning it up, and if you don’t improve it to my satisfaction quickly, I may decide I don’t have any more use for it; and if that ever happens, ‘her probing fingers slid down towards my testicles, causing me to shudder in mingled fear and dizzying excitement, ‘I’ll make sure you’re no use to anyone else ever again; understand? Now, I want to see what the equipment’s like. I want this hard, and quickly.’

Her hand closed hard around my cock and began to pump; and within seconds I was as erect as I’ve ever been in my life. My breath started to come in rapid gasps, and I realised to my horror that I was so desperately excited I was in danger of cumming there and then. So it was with a confused mix of disappointment and relief when Ebony let me go and stepped back to look at her handiwork. She didn’t seem impressed; and after a brief glance at my throbbing-hard erection, looked me in the eye.

‘Not tempting slave. Don’t get your hopes up of ever putting that thing inside me. You’re going to have to get very good at pleasuring me with my vibrators if you want to keep your balls. Speaking of which...’ And once again, before I’d even realised she’d moved, her fingers clamped around my testicles. I yelped in fear as much as pain at her initial touch, but as once again she dug her hard fingers into the soft flesh of my scrotum, the sickening pain welled up into my gut in waves. Taking one ball in each hand, Ebony rolled them between her fingers, pressing and squeezing as if testing their texture, or perhaps probing for the weakest spots in my totally vulnerable and helpless manhood. Legs braced apart and holding myself half upright with clawed fingers digging into my thighs, I bit down on the dreadful pain and gasped and sobbed and shook while she examined me. But even through this pain, I knew there must be worse coming. This was preparation, I was sure of it; preparation for my punishment. Then Ebony released her grip and stepped back.

‘I’ve bruised the left one much more haven’t I? I guess I caught that one because it hangs lower.’ She stood for a moment, contemplating my groin with a hungry expression that I knew had nothing to do with my still twitching erection. ‘Now I think a fitting punishment for looking at my tits without permission, would probably be to kick both your pathetic little balls into pulp, wouldn’t you say slave? But you were a good boy and told me the truth so I’m going to give you a chance. I’m going to let you just take your punishment in your right ball; even you up, you see? But only if you do exactly as you’re told. You’re going to pull your left ball up out of the way, and I’m going to let you keep your hand around it to protect it; isn’t that generous of me? But then you’re going to stand there absolutely stock-still while I kick the other one. If you so much as twitch or flinch when I kick you, I swear to god slave, I’m going to just keep on kicking them both until there’s nothing left but mush. Understand? Now get yourself ready.’

So, shaking with terror and the most intense erotic excitement I’d ever felt in my life, I straightened up as well as I could, parted my legs to give Ebony easy access to my groin, gingerly lifted my sickeningly tender left ball up into one protectively cupped hand, and stood waiting. In front of me Ebony stood swaying slightly from side to side, as if wondering which foot to deliver the attack with, and staring hungrily at the tender, exposed curve of my right testicle, pulled up tight as it was against the base of my cock.

And then the attack came. In truth, it was so fast I wouldn’t have had time to flinch away even if I hadn’t been desperately trying to stay still. The impact of her pointed toecap this time, not even slowed by a layer of clothing as it had been before was like a gunshot between my legs. I think my ball must have flattened completely against the base of my penis, and in some remote corner of my mind which wasn’t simply screaming in anguish, I remember wondering if this time she really had ruptured me. Strangely, I don’t think I made any noise as her booted foot crushed my testicle. I don’t think I made a sound as I hit the floor and curled up into a ball of frenzied, convulsing agony. I think it was only as the indescribable pain, which I didn’t believe could possibly get any worse, actually began to grow, in wave after wave of sickening agony, that finally I began to scream. But then I know I sobbed, and howled and thrashed like some tortured soul in the inferno; and I know all the time, Ebony stood over me and laughed.

It was only when the pain finally began to lessen, only when my agonised cries had lapsed into ragged and exhausted gasps that I realised the sounds emanating from above me had changed. Ebony was no longer laughing; instead I could hear her breath coming in deep rhythmic sighs, interspersed by sudden moans and catches. I didn’t dare look up, although I wanted to more than anything; I didn’t dare look up for fear of the punishment I would receive if I saw my mistress doing what I knew she must be doing while looking down at my helpless, pitiful male form. But despite, or perhaps because of that fear, and despite the dreadful aching pain in my swollen balls, I felt myself begin to stiffen again as I thought of what she must be doing. Ebony, of course, knew exactly what was going on.

‘Yes, slave; I’m enjoying your pain. You can hear me can’t you? You can hear me, but like a good slave you’re keeping your eyes on the ground. How much do you want to look up? How much do you want to see your mistress with her skirt pulled up and her hand inside her leggings; inside her knickers; her fingers inside her moist, hot cunt? How much do you want to watch me bring myself to orgasm over the pain I’ve inflicted on your pathetic little testicles?’

At that, my rapidly erecting cock stiffened so hard I yelped with the pain of it dragging my balls up against my body. Ebony snorted in derision.

‘Well you’re not going to see it, slave. You’re not going to see anything of the sort; but you are going to help me cum. Now stand up!’

The last was snapped in a tone so cold and forceful that I was half way to my feet before I even realised I was obeying her. I stood shaking slightly from the mix of fear and excitement that I’d given up trying to separate, and gasping still with each breath at the constant, throbbing ache in my groin. I stood naked and vulnerable and watched with lowered eyes as Ebony rose from where she had draped herself across her sleek leather couch and strode the three steps it took to reach the high breakfast counter that separated her living room from her kitchen. Without even looking at me she turned and bent over the counter, her arms resting lightly on its surface, her head resting on her arms, and then with an elegant shift from one hip to the other she stepped out a few inches with each stiletto-booted foot to leave her beautiful legs open, and her perfect arse pointing straight at me. And then, as I stood and gaped in awe at the exquisite form of her black-clad body, her right hand left the counter and slid back between her legs, open and waiting.

‘Give me your balls, slave.’

The order was given quietly; but I didn’t even think to disobey. Hobbling forward, gasping at the pain, I moved to stand directly behind her, and placed my bruised and aching testicles in her cold, white hand. For a moment nothing happened; and then very, very slowly, Ebony began to squeeze. As the pressure began to grow, the pain from my already battered balls rushed back through me like a wave of fire, and within moments I found myself sobbing and trembling as I struggled to simply stay on my feet. Remorselessly she increased the pressure; now tugging sharply at my scrotum as she squeezed, now rolling her fingers so that my testicles ground against each other. And then with one final crushing squeeze that caused me to squeal in pain and grab the counter to keep myself from collapsing on top of her, Ebony suddenly released the pressure; although she most definitely did not release my balls.

‘Now, slave,’ she continued, in her coldest and most emotionless voice, ‘seeing as you’ve been a good slave and suffered pleasingly for your mistress, I’m going to reward you. Isn’t that kind of me?’

I opened my mouth to stammer some kind of agreement or thanks, but all that came out was a strangled scream and I almost collapsed again as Ebony slammed my bruised balls back up against my body with the heel of her hand and then yanked them sharply back down into her grip.

‘That was a rhetorical question you idiot. Don’t ever try to interrupt me again; understand?’

I merely whimpered.

‘Good boy. Now this is a treat far greater than you deserve slave, but I wish to be pleasured and unfortunately, you are all I have to work with. But understand this once and for all: if you try, if you even think about trying, to take more than I allow you then...’ her fingers once more clamped hard down on my balls and I yelped in agony, ‘then I swear to god slave, I will tear these things off, and I will love every second of it. Now,’ and her fingers slackened their grip, ‘put your hands on my hips and push my skirt up until you can see the top of my leggings.’

With trembling hands I obeyed. I could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric as it slid smoothly up over her hips and folded around her waist.

‘Good boy.’ She purred, and squeezed almost playfully at my scrotum, causing me to yelp and my knees almost to buckle. ‘Now, pull down my leggings slave. Pull them right down to my thighs.’

And, almost unable to believe that I was actually getting to do this, I slowly peeled her warm, soft leggings down; exposing first the narrow band of her black silk panties, and then inch by inch the flawless milk-white skin of her perfect heart-shaped arse.

‘Good slave. Do you like what you see?’

This time I knew I had to answer, and truthfully.

‘Yes mistress. Oh god yes mistress; you’re beautiful; you’re perfect.’

‘Of course.’ She said; once more tugging and twisting at my scrotum, and sighing with pleasure as I yelped and shuddered with the pain. ‘Now slave, this is the tricky part. Now you’re going to pull down my knickers. You’re going to pull them down ‘til my arse is completely exposed, ‘til you can see all of it, but you are not going to expose my pussy. Is that absolutely clear slave? You have not earned the right to see my cunt. You will probably never earn the right to see my cunt; not unless your performance improves miraculously anyway. But for now, you will not see it. So you will pull down my knickers, and if I can’t feel the silk touching my lips all the way down, if I feel exposed to you in any way...’ and with that she let go of my aching balls, and instead returned her hand to the kitchen counter; sliding across its surface to run one long finger up the side of the heavy wooden knife-block that sat on it. My skin went cold all over and I felt my swollen balls crawl back up against my body.

‘You understand me slave?’ Her voice once more was glacial cold. ‘If I think for just one second that you’re abusing my trust, then I’m going to have your balls off before you know what’s hit you. Now get on with it before I get bored.’

So, with fingers trembling with pain, fear, and indescribably excitement, I touched Ebony’s skin for the first time. Taking the cool black silk of her panties in my hands I slid them down, fraction by terrified fraction, feeling the warm, flawless curve of her body with every movement of my fingers; until at last I uncovered the tightly puckered, delicate pink ring of her arsehole. For a moment I simply stood dumbly and stared. She was so very beautiful, and I also had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do next.

Of course Ebony didn’t give me long to think about it. Her right hand once more slid back between her legs, pulling her black silk panties tight over the mounded flesh of here vulva as she checked that I had not exposed her; and then, apparently satisfied, her hand pistoned out and fastened round my balls with a force that made me shriek with pain. Her fingers dug into the swollen flesh of my testicles, twisting, squeezing, and grinding them together as I writhed and thrashed in her grip, wanting desperately to collapse onto the floor but unable to pull away from her merciless crushing grip. And then as suddenly as it had come, her grip released; and I sank to my knees, sobbing and gasping as churning waves of agony rolled up through my stomach and my testicles felt like they were swelling to the size of footballs.

But although the floor was where my mistress wanted me, she did not intend to let me be idle. Without apparently even bothering to glance down to aim, she lifted her right foot, and drove the cruel point of her stiletto heel back into my groin with deadly accuracy. Pinned between her boot heel and my thigh, my right ball felt like it was going to explode. Unable to help myself I twisted away from the agonising pain, screaming almost silently it was so high pitched, and collapsed on my back; and that’s when her foot slammed back down on my other ball, pinning my testicle to the inside of my thigh with the pin-point accuracy of an Olympic marksman, and for a few seconds I knew nothing but the pain.

When I came to my senses I realised I had curled up into a sobbing twisted heap between Ebony’s feet; trying to clutch my scrotum for comfort, and retching uselessly, my stomach already emptied from her first, crippling kick. Ebony had remained bent over the counter; her perfect arse naked and exposed above me; and her right foot tapping impatiently a few inches from my face.

‘Have you quite finished slave?’ She snapped. ‘I kick you for my pleasure, remember. What use is hurting your useless little balls if you’re just going to use it as an excuse to keep my waiting? I warn you slave; you’re about thirty seconds from crushing and **********. Now get up on your knees and lick out my arsehole.’

And so, almost blind from the pain and gagging from the waves of nausea, I pushed myself to my knees, set my legs wide apart to let my agonised balls hang free, took Ebony’s smooth, naked hips in my hands, gently pulled her perfectly round cheeks apart, and ****** the tip of my tongue deep into her arse.

Kneeling there, naked, bruised and trembling, for a while I knew only two things: the dreadful aching pain between my legs and the feel of Ebony’s arsehole on my tongue. Her flesh was hot, smooth, and tasted bitter and dirty as I ****** the tip of my tongue as hard as I could in through the tightly closed ring of her anus. Under my hands, her hips were cool and perfectly smooth, and swayed back and forth just a little as I pleasured her. Knowing nothing but my desire to serve her, the agony she had inflicted on me, and my need for her to hurt and use and dominate me again, I closed my eyes against the pain, pressed my face against her arse, and ****** my tongue deeper.

It was the feeling of her hips start to move rhythmically against me that brought me back to a wider awareness. Ebony, I know realised, was pushing back against me - pressing herself against my face as if she needed deeper penetration - and I tried with all my might to push my tongue further up her arse. But in fact, it wasn’t my tongue she was pushing against. I realised after a few moments that there was movement below my jaw; movement in the area I was absolutely not allowed to see. And as I tried with all my might to pleasure her better, I heard the soft but unmistakable sounds of a girl sliding long, slender fingers into the tight, hot depths of her cunt, and grinding the heel of her hand against her slippery, engorged clitoris. A few moments later, Ebony began to cum.

With each orgasm – and once they started, they came again and again in faster and faster succession – Ebony ground her arse against my face and moaned and quivered in my hands. I was so erect by this time that my swollen balls pressing against the base of my cock felt like a vice tightening between my legs; but still I licked and pressed myself into her, wanting nothing but her pleasure. And then suddenly, as the most intense and violent orgasm she had yet had ripped through her, Ebony pulled out of my grip, spun on one heel, and smacked the other booted foot into my groin with a force that almost lifted me off the ground.

Squealing with pain, my body jack-knifed over backwards and I rolled onto my face on the floor; drawing my legs up under me as instinctively I tried to protect my testicles. But of course it was too late: the pain was only going to get worse. I convulsed and sobbed in agony as the pain just grew and grew; and then my voice rose into an ear-splitting shriek as, from behind, her boot smacked into my testicles once again. I couldn’t see anymore, I couldn’t think; all I knew was the pain – the pain and the absolute knowledge that I was hers and it was only ever going to get worse. And then she was on top of me. As I writhed and sobbed on the floor, suddenly her weight was pinning me down: her legs straddling me and hands coming down hard, one on my face the other on my groin. As I shrieked with pain at the merciless grip of her fingers on my balls, I was still on some level aware of her other hand covering my eyes, and her voice snapping at me from above.

‘Don’t look slave. Don’t you dare fucking look, or I swear to god I will ******** you. Now lick it you bastard.’

And with that, her naked, wet, burning hot cunt was on my face, and I opened my mouth to receive her; sucking her full, velvety lips into my mouth and pushing my tongue up into the musky slit between them. I was so hard it felt like my cock was going to burst and my balls, squeezed tight in her hand, ached like every kind of hell; but her perfect cunt was in my mouth, and all I really cared about was the firm point of her clit under my tongue and the taste of her juices as she came again and again and again.

I think it was only when she had nothing left, when she simply couldn’t cum anymore, that Ebony stopped me licking her. Her method was simple: she just closed her hand tight around my swollen testicles and yanked so hard I honestly thought she might tear them off; then, as I opened my mouth to scream, slammed them down against my body with all the force she could muster, let them go, and then smacked her fist down into them over and over again until I was on the verge of blacking out from the pain. So it was, curled in a sobbing, retching ball of misery, I never saw my mistress’s body as she got off me; never saw her beautiful pussy that I’d just spent all I had on pleasuring. In fact, I wasn’t aware of anything but the pain until she threw my clothes at me and told me to dress. Scrambling into my clothes, I could hardly even see through the throbbing, unendurable pain that just seemed to keep growing without end; but I did as I was told, and in a few moments found myself being steered firmly to the door.

‘Now understand slave,’ Ebony hissed in my ear, ‘you are leaving now with my permission and you will not presume to try and return, or even contact me, do you understand?’

Dumbly, I nodded.

‘Good boy. You are mine, my property, and don’t you ever forget it. Now when want you, want to use you, or maybe just hurt you, then I’ll call. And when I call, you will come. I don’t care what you’re doing, where you are, or who you’re with. When I call you, you drop what you’re doing, work or leisure, and you come here at once, understand?’

‘Yes mistress.’ I stammered; my voice catching in my throat with the pain. She opened the door and turned me to face her one last time.

‘Good boy. Now, look your mistress in the eye while she gives you something to remember her by.’

Obediently, I gazed with fear and longing into her beautiful, cold blue eyes, and felt my body tense in terror against what I knew was coming. It was her knee that hit my balls; slamming up into my groin with breathtaking force, and driving me back, crooked-over, to teeter at the very edge of the stairs. What I wasn’t expecting was for the toe of her boot to follow it: smacking up between my legs so that the point dug into my arsehole and the top of her foot crushed both my testicles against my body. Howling with agony I collapsed backwards; sliding and rolling down the stairs with my tortured balls smacking together on every step, and the sound of Ebony’s mocking laughter following me all the way down.

By the time I hit the bottom, curled into a sobbing ball of humiliated misery, the sound of her laughter, and Ebony herself, were gone. At least, gone until the next time she called...