TW: Noncon ballbusting
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Hugo frowned. “I really can’t have any of your candy Suzanna?”
“No, like I said, this is from my husband’s time trick-or-treating with the kids.”
“But you said you weren’t keeping it. That you were just selling it back to the dentist.”
“Well, they got so much, this is just the leftovers.”
“So why can’t I have it?” he pouted. “Just because I don’t have any kids of my own doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get candy. I bet you and Dennis eat some of it.”
She paused, thinking. Then, she grinned. “How about we make a deal?”
Hugo didn’t like that grin, but he was hungry and would do just about anything for a little treat. “Sure.”
“For every piece of candy you eat, I get to kick you in the balls. And you have to decide how many pieces you want before the first time I kick you.”
“Why, because you’re going to kick so light I would have wanted more if I had known?” he said, but his stomach was still coiled with fear.
“Something like that.”
“Fine. I want three. Of the king sized.”
“Hmm? The king sized? Don’t you think those should be doubled?”
“We already agreed on—” he started, then something hit his nuts, fast and hard and filling him with pain. He hadn’t expected her to have any power, to have any aim, but now he was falling to the ground, clutching himself and whimpering, the beginning of tears in his eyes.
“That’s what you get for flirting with me in front of my husband. Now, you’re going to take five more kicks or stomps, whether you like it or not. Then, I’ll decide if you get some candy bars. Move your hands.”
“Suzanna—”
“Do you want me to step on those delicate little piano-playing fingers? I can crush them. Move your hands.” He obliged, not knowing what else to do. She brought up her foot and smashed down. It hit his left testicle more than his right one, and he felt the ‘pop’ the moment her foot hit the ground, not beside or next to the ball, but through it. He shrieked.
“Okay, that’s two,” she said calmly.
“You popped it,” he shrieked. “Oh my god, you popped my ball.”
“I didn’t say I was done when I popped one, move your hands.” Her foot hadn’t moved, but his hands were gripping on it, trying to yank it up. “Or would you rather one of your kicks be grinding into it more?”
He paused for a second. She was probably going to pop his other ball if he wasn’t careful, but if he said yes, that was what he wanted, she would probably go back to stomping. “No, please, no, it hurts so bad.”
She grinned at that and kept her foot where it was, twisting and yanking, running the last few good chunks of testicle that had been to the side.
“Three,” she said. “Halfway. Take off your pants.”
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” he whimpered, and then he felt the foot yank back and smash into him again. “Okay!” he screamed, “Okay, I’ll take off my pants.”
As soon as he touched the sensitive area, it alight with more pain. He pulled off his underwear, and his left testicle was both fat and swollen, elongated and crushed, mushy and thin. It flopped out and swung a little, only causing him more pain.
“Lay back down,” she said, which he knew meant she was going to stomp again. “Please, no,” he said.
“Do you need me to send all the perverted messages you send me to your mother?”
“Yes, please, anything but this.”
She grabbed his injured ball and yanked it all the way to the ground. He screamed and fell, the only way to protect himself. Then she moved her hand, picked up her foot, and stomped on his remain testicle. The ‘pop’ from that was clear too. He shrieked. Nothing could be seen, nothing could be heard, just blinding pain, until he heard, “five,” another blast of pain, and, “six.”
Smut For Sinners 