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The ballgame

I began to have second thoughts about making myself available for some CBT at the home studio of a dominatrix friend. She had an apprentice she wanted to train and persuaded me to volunteer. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it". I was rapidly becoming less certain of that but there was no turning back now.

Stripped to the buff, I was stretched out on a table in her dungeon with bright lights shining from the ceiling as my friend and her apprentice prepared for my ordeal.

Straps were swiftly attached to my ankles and drawn tight. My wrists were already fastened securely above my head and now the straps to my ankles were attached to loops at the base of the table and my legs drawn well apart, providing my friend and her eager colleague with clear access to my most sensitive parts.

With additional straps now pulled tight around my thighs and chest, and a cushion under my bum forcing my groin upwards I could barely move a muscle.

My friend reached for another strap, made a loop in it and fumbled in my scrotum until she had captured my balls. She seized them firmly and drew them out and away from my body while the apprentice pulled the strap around them.

The strap was fastened around my balls and drawn tight – very tight – pulling them together and holding them in a parcel. The strap was fastened and I was ready for their pleasure.

Walking to a refrigerator in the corner of the room, my friend opened the freezer compartment and withdrew a tall container in which several rods were held. They were stainless steel and looked to be about 1.5mm thick by around 150mm long. I knew what these were for and waited, shivering, for what was about to happen.

Savoring the moment, my friend smiled down at me as she waved one of the rods above me. "Ready for some fun?" she asked with a smile. "You'll notice that this skewer has a knob on the end, right? That's so I can push it in easily. Once I get it in, I just push it with the palm of my hand. Some of the other skewers are sharpened at both ends. But this one is just right because it's designed to be pushed. Good, isn't it?" she said with a wicked smile.

"But hey, there's one more excellent feature about this skewer: it's marked with a line for every centimetre. See there? And that means, my lucky friend, that I'll be able to see exactly how far it's gone into your balls. Don't worry," she said with a sexy grin, "I'll be sure to tell you all about it". And with that she bent down to begin. "Ready?" she asked without really expecting a reply.

I felt a pinprick on the side of my scrotum and knew it was about to happen. There was a pause and I tensed, waiting for the sting.

With a quick thrust, the sharp rod was pushed through the skin of my scrotum and then into the casing of the first testicle. In two seconds the skewer was in. My friend paused for a moment and then began to push. I shuddered, shivered and groaned as I felt the frozen steel begin its slow journey through my testicle.

She looked up at me to give me a progress report. "The first centimetre mark is just sliding into your balls," she said. "It's really well in now." She bent down again to concentrate.

She had told me that it would all happen slowly, drawing out the pleasure for her and allowing her apprentice to pick up details of her technique. Plus, she said, she wanted me to gain the full impact of the experience. "After all," she said, "it isn't every day that a couple of gorgeous women want to run steel pins through your balls. You might as well enjoy it".

Five seconds later she gave another progress report: "There goes the second centimetre mark....It's disappearing into your balls right now." She bent back down to resume her work, slowly pushing the skewer further and further into me. "I'm nearly through the first ball. It will be interesting when I go right through it and into the next one," she said.

The women were engrossed, loving it as I quivered, moaned and sweated beneath them. My friend was surprised at how easy it was. "It's really soft," she said. "The centre of your balls is about the consistency of a hard-boiled egg. The rod goes through them very easily. I'm really enjoying this. Be a good boy now and just lie back and let it happen. You don't have any choice anyway," she said with a laugh.

In a matter of seconds, the skewer passed right through my first ball. I felt it puncture the casing and then a small sting as it began to enter the second. "That took four and a bit centimetres of the rod so to get it right through both balls will take about nine centimetres. Pushing on..... Here we go".

For the first time, I began to savor this experience – giving myself over to complete domination by these powerful women who had taken possession of the core of my sexuality. They could do whatever they liked with me and were clearly enjoying the process immensely. The other woman began to stroke my cock as the skewer moved slowly through my balls. A chill spread throughout my groin as the impact of that icy-cold steel began to spread.

Twenty seconds later the skewer emerged from my second testicle, pricking the skin from the inside and then easily piercing it. Its emergence was greeted with a giggle from the apprentice. Checking carefully, my friend kept pushing it through until she was sure that my poor balls were neatly and evenly positioned on the steel rod.

She pushed and pulled it in and out to get it perfectly even, squinting to check that it was properly balanced. Yes, she said, my balls were now sitting exactly halfway along the rod, looking for all the world like chunks of meat on a shish-kabob skewer.

She held up a mirror for me to admire her work. "Looks nice, don't you think?" she asked. "I could get used to doing this. It's really fun! I think they look cute, don't you?" She bent down close and squeezed my balls. "Hey, I can feel the metal in them. Wow! That's really cool."

A digital camera was produced and the women took turns taking photographs of my balls and themselves posing as if they were forcing the skewer through my parcel. My humiliation was complete when the images were posted on the internet.

The apprentice was then given the task of stroking my penis until I came. It was a huge release for me and, as my penis pulsed and gushed, I enjoyed an entirely new and different orgasm. I seemed to feel the semen swirling around the steel which had caused me to release much more sperm than I usually produce.

I was utterly spent in more ways than one and slumped back in my bonds, absolutely exhausted. I slept there for a time and woke to find the apprentice whisking the skewer from my balls. She released the straps, gave me a nice smile and left me to dress.

Within a few hours, the women had begun to receive emails praising them for my work and asking if I would be available to other women who were keen to run skewers through a man's testicles. They were told that I would be made available once a week for small groups of women to enjoy this exciting form of CBT. My balls were going to be used as pincushions.

After a few days in which the aching feeling in my testicles gradually faded away I admitted that, once I had become used to the sensation of the steel sliding through my sac and its contents I had actually found the experience deeply thrilling and erotic. I found myself looking forward to the weekend when no less than three women were coming to take advantage of the opportunity they had been promised.

This time, my friend informed me, she would first demonstrate the process herself and then each of the visitors would push a skewer through my balls. Squeezed tightly into a parcel, my balls would be subjected to multiple penetrations while I was strapped to the table and at the mercy of a group of strange women.

They would wear masks, my friend informed me, so I could never recognise them – even though some of them might pass me in the street of the place where we lived. They might smile a secret smile of recognition when they saw me at some time in future and picture me strapped on the table as they pushed a skewer all the way through both of my balls.

But of all the women I would meet afterwards I would never know which of them had used me in this way. From then on, all women would hold power over me. I was to be the man on whom they would express their feelings as a result of abuse or harm from others, whether fathers, boyfriends or husbands, and I was happy and privileged to provide a means for their healing. I began to anticipate my next penetration with no small degree of eagerness.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 04 Oct. 2009
in BME/HARD Fiction Stories

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