Select Page

cock and ball torture

Cock and ball torture is something I never understood until I tried it out. It should come as no surprise that I have a love/hate relationship with my own cock and balls. But it never occurred to me before that I could love to hate other people’s.

It may have been that I loathed John so much that I was willing to do anything to make him suffer. During his time at the legislature, he has said a lot of ignorant shit. Worth mentioning is that he has made himself an enemy of the trans community. So I had reason to loathe him. You can imagine my surprise when he kept buying me drinks at the bar on Thursday night. Maybe he didn’t recognize me? Whatever the reason, I didn’t discourage him. He couldn’t handle his liquor, which made the next step of my plan so much easier.

Leaning in, I whispered in his ear, “Let’s go somewhere quiet.” What I didn’t say, of course, was that the cock and ball torture would be anything but quiet.

Back at my place, his hands were all over me. He still didn’t realize I was trans! Quickly, I had him in a chair and strapped down with piano wire and zip ties. I sliced his slacks to shreds, exposing his bulbous balls and odious little dick. Lifting my dress, I made sure he got a look at how pretty mine were. When his mouth was agape, I clamped a vise grip on his tongue. That would keep him quiet. With great care, I went to work on his happy place. His schlong was rock hard, which made slathering on the honey easier. Oh, his eyes looked so pretty when they bugged out on spying the jar of fire ants. Those little fuckers were tricky, and I had to don gloves before twisting his sacs with rubber bands.

I gave a good twist on the vise grip because he was moaning. Cock and ball torture requires focus, and that yammering would distract. The welts were rising, and that meant he was ready for the next step. Want to know what happened? It’s too hot for a blog, but if you call and ask, I could share it with you!