Bocal avec écrou

His face twists in agony.

“I won't give you the satisfaction!” he gasps.

“What was that? You won't what?” as I grab his balls, and lightly squeeze.

“I. Won't. Give. You. The. Satisfaction,” he spits in my face.

“Oh, really? Well, that's too bad. I had wanted to hear you scream but if you won't give me the satisfaction...” I squeeze his balls in my hand. Poor boy already has a varicose vein in his nuts, two even. The doctor told him that he could get surgery to fix it or let his balls slowly suffocate and deal with the pain. Maybe it would go away, but not usually. He was always complaining about the pain, he liked to complain about his ailments. So I think I'll give him something to complain about. I squeeze his nuts as hard as I can, and he's grunting and sweating. It seems he won't give me the satisfaction. Well, lucky for him, I'm a resourceful girl. I look around the shed. I see a pair of water pump pliers...

“Do you think these would illicit a reaction?” I hold up the pliers, “look! They're adjustable, so every time I squeeze your balls with them, It will get tighter, and tighter, until... POP!” I laugh loudly, as I imagine his balls being popped open like a nut in a nutcracker.

“You're a fucking cunt,” he spits at me.

“I love being a cunt. Look at me, who is stopping me? I have you tied across the wall of your shed, with all of your most vulnerable, valuable parts hanging out with the breeze lightly drifting across them. I am a cunt. I will hold my head high and proclaim such. But if I am a cunt... what insult could hurt you? It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not here to insult you, my love. I am here to make sure you uphold your end of our vows,” I smile mischievously at him. “I am standing here now 'till death do us part.' I do not break my promises, and so, I need the stipulations of our arrangement to manifest.”

He looks at me confused. I just smile. If he hasn't figured it out yet, he will. I smile at him seductively as I lower myself to my knees before him. I watch his dick get hard... ever the slave to his need to stick his cock in something. I raise up the water pump pliers where he can't see them, and clamp it onto one of his balls. I begin to squeeze and watch his expression slowly change, as he feels a terrifying agony. I look at my hands closing the pliers, and focus. I think about him telling me the way I think is wrong, and him telling me that he doesn't need to try to fuck me anymore because our marriage certificate is a “fuck for free” pass. I hear him grunting now. I think of the time he asked me why I don't want to fuck him and I replied, “I don't feel pretty.” He asked what would make me feel loved and pretty and I told him to take me on a date and he responded by telling ME to plan it. It was looking like his left nut was about to explode, and I yelled, “SURE! LET ME PLAN THE DATE YOU'RE TAKING ME ON!”

His balls did pop, like I imagined, a water balloon of blood. And continually gushing.

“Oops,” I said sweetly, “I guess I don't know my own strength.”

And did he begin to yell. Not words. Just a note. One solitary, painful note. A howl so loud I almost smashed him in the face with a hammer. But it was a symphony. The physical equivalent to all the pain I felt.

“Oh, now we have this ridiculous mutilation!” I say, “Why don't you let me just... fix... this...” I reach into a bucket and pull out some wire cutters. “Look at this mess, tsk tsk.” And I place the wire cutters around the veins holding his broken nut to his body, I find the smallest size, and slowly cut through every layer of his veins and arteries to get his mutilation free of his body. Then, I grab gardening shears to cute through the remaining crap, and I laugh as his broken testicle falls into a jar of water, it immediately getting a cloudy red.

All the while he is screaming, crying,  and 'giving me the satisfaction.'

-Kiz