Smut For Sinners

TW: Noncon Ballbusting, Slavery

Devon walked into his first day at the brothel when he was 18, just like all the other boys in his nunnery had before him. Devon had stayed at the nunnery his whole childhood, and they had explained to him that what he was doing was for the good of the Matriarchy, for the good of the world. Even, for the good of men. They were governed better that way. Even for the good of him. He would be bought some day, if he did well enough. 

The woman who opened the door smiled at him, a cute blonde, a little bit older but still with perky breasts and wondering eyes. She had on tight jeans and a low cut short, enough to get him half hard.

“Hello Devon, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Hello, are you Madame Merlea?” 

“You can call me Miss, I’m not your Madame. As weird as it sounds, I don’t like to hurt men, though I will let other women. I want to treat you fair, and I will make sure the women treat you fair too. After all, I get a big cut if you’re bought, and you’re not a pain-slave as a punishment, but you were born into it.” 

“Thank you, Miss Merlea.” 

“Of course. Now, let’s go over your basic training requirements. Have you ever come before, Devon?”

“No. Sometimes in my sleep, but never while awake.” 

“But you’ve been edged?”

“Yes, Miss.” 

“Perfect. If someone pays well enough, they can let you come, but of course most women would rather you never have, so we’ll probably save that for if you’re ever bought. And you’ve watched men come?” 

“Yes, Miss.” 

“Does it seem nice?”

“Yess, Miss.” He said with a small gulp. 

“It is. Have you ever had your balls beaten before?” 

“No, Miss.” 

“Good. I have your first session set up for in ten minutes. They have paid very well to take your ball-busting virginity, as it is. Some men, especially those who never come, actually like it. She may even edge you first, so you associate it with pleasure. She’ll decide.”

“Yes, Miss.” Devon said. He loved being edged, even if it increased the ache for days, so he couldn’t help looking slightly eager. Besides, some men liked it. 

“I’ll come see you after, get you cleaned up. Because it is your first day, she has agreed not to use anything solid. That will come on your second day, if that woman would like.”

“Solid, miss?” 

“You’ll see when you see toys, over the next however long. I would show you around, but some women like surprising you. So, I’ll walk you to the room, she’ll take over, then I’ll come check on you, then feed you and take you to your new home. You probably won’t like it here, but this is your best chance of being bought. People are more likely to buy ballbusting slaves who are not here for punishment than any other sort of pain, torture, or pleasure slaves. And you’ll get a good place to live, good food, everything else. I will take care of you, Devon.” 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling grateful. Maybe this would be better than the nunnery, with it’s crusty bread, cold floors, and weekly edging. 

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, walking him to the room.

The room looked less scary than he thought it might. A bed, chains on each bedpost, and a chest. Plain. Simple. The bed looked nicer than anything he had ever slept on.

Then he saw the woman. He had never seen a woman naked before, and his cock instantly began filling out. She had black hair, a golden-brown body, and dark nipples, peaked and tall. He hadn’t known what to expect in a woman. And her pussy, between her legs, was a patch of dark, curly hair. He found himself lusting for what was underneath. Her body was hard muscle and her hand looked more calloused than the nuns had. He always looked at their hands, as it was the only thing that had ever touched his cock. 

Her eyes didn’t look over him at all, just centered on his balls. They were larger than many of the boys, swollen and slightly blue from neglect, but all the balls he had seen looked like that, except on the rare occasions he got to see a man coming so he knew what he was missing. 

“Clothes off, all of them, they down on your hands and knees,” the woman said. He had been so excited to be on the bed, but he listened, slowly, apprehensively. “I don’t have all day, slave,” she said, so he yanked his clothes off with nervous rapidness. Then he got on his hands and knees, facing her. 

“Surely, you must know your balls need to be what is facing me,” she said, and he started turning. “Can’t you talk?” she snapped. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“So you did know your balls needed to be facing me, but you didn’t care? Trying to prolong your pain-free existence?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Here’s the deal, boy. This is going to hurt. Really, really badly. There is one way to get this to end. As soon as you describe to me adequately how you feel, I will stop. I expect unique, descriptive language. Can you handle that?”

He wasn’t often allowed to speak to women at all, but he figured he could try. He loved to tell dirty jokes with the boys. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Rather than answer, he heard shuffling behind him, then something slammed against his balls, flattening them to his stomach. 

He screamed. He had heard horror stories of how bad it hurt, but he had never even seen anyone get hit in the balls. He fell to the ground, spasming, and she lifted him back up a bit with her foot. The pain was a living, angry beast, a shot of deep bruise purple through his soul. “I didn’t tell you to fall. And you didn’t describe it.” The foot hit him again. He did his best to stay up, but he didn’t know how. His whole body tried to clutch around his balls. “Aren’t you going to describe it?” she teased, and the foot hit him again. 

“It– it hurts. It hurts,” he called out. She pulled her foot back and kicked him again. “I said unique and descriptive language.” She kicked him again. 

He wondered what the words unique and descriptive meant, though he knew them an hour before. “I– my balls– they–” He stopped, panting. 

“I’ll give you one more chance,” she said, and he realized maybe she’d only do it once more, so when her foot hit him again he didn’t say anything except a wordless scream. 

“Oh, so disappointing,” she said. “Didn’t say a thing.” He panted, laying on the floor again, thinking maybe he was allowed. She grabbed him roughly, with incredible strength and threw him on the bed. Then she started doing up his shackles, pulling him apart when he tried to cup his balls. 

“Wait–” He gasped. “Wait miss, you said one more chance.” 

“Yes, until I take things a lot more seriously.” She finished shackling him and he saw her kneel at the edge of the bed, then come up holding a baseball bat. 

“Wait!” he called out. “What– what’s that?” 

“It’s for you.” 

“Miss Marlea said nothing solid!” he screamed. “Please, please.” 

“Too bad she’s not here, hmm? Start describing. I’ll give you one soft chance.” She wheeled up the baseball bat, but not above her head, just a bit higher. She smacked it resoundingly, and he had thought it would be a bit better since she didn’t raise it so high, but the pain still radiated to his fingertips, making him wonder if there was anything left. But then he remembered he only got one soft chance. 

“It uhm– it hurts like– like– a baseball bat–”

“That’s unique and descriptive?” she asked. He watched, this time, as she raised it all the way above her head and then his whole life exploded in pain, he screamed, stars and stripes everywhere.

He forced words to spill out of him whether they made sense or not. “It’s like a tiger trap is around my balls and the tiger is trying to gnaw them off for me, but the tiger doesn’t have teeth, so it’s jaws are just crushing them and crushing them.” 

She sat the bat down and patted his face. “Good boy. I’ll have Marlea come help you.” She turned and walked out.