a birthday wank whilst wife and I tell a fantasy
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His Birthday Fantasy free porn video
He woke up from his vague dreaming to the sound of soft clinking and rustling at the foot of his bed. He instinctively moved to pull the fluffy pillow from off of his head, but found that he couldn’t pull his hands down from the upper corners of the bed. he tried to sit up, but his ankles were held fast, bound like his wrists so that his legs were pulled spread eagle, almost to the point where it hurt his hips.
His wife’s voice greeted him as she lifted the pillow away from his face. “Morning, sleepy head. Happy birthday!”
The morning light bathed their bedroom in a gentle yellow, not overly bright but light enough that he could see everything quite clearly. She was dressed in a white, cotton apron tied around her waist, and nothing else. Her breasts jiggled as she tossed the pillow toward the foot of the bed and pulled the covers off his body. Her nipples were hard and thick and her aureoles were firm and crinkled. Whatever she had in mind, she was obviously looking forward to it. Which reminded him…
Tugging half-heartedly on the ropes binding his wrists he tore his gaze from her tits and smiled sleepily up at her. “I take it you’ve got a special birthday present in mind?”
She bent over toward the foot of the bed so that her bare rear faced him. Her thick, full, shaved pussy lips peeked from between her cheeks. The inner folds glistened, reinforcing his earlier thought. Whatever she’d been doing before he woke up, and whatever she planned, she was hot for it. He felt his cock spring the rest of the way to life, as if sensing that fun was there to be had.
She straightened and dropped a credit card-sized voucher onto the nightstand beside him, close enough that he could read it. “Do you trust me?”
He looked at the card. It was her Medi-center identification. He had no idea what she meant and his raised eyebrow told her so.
She giggled and bent back over. “You’re fully covered on my account now. Transplants, cloning, regens, the works. $2,500.00 deductible.” When she stood up, she was holding a can of shaving cream and a multi-blade razor. Her smile widened to a grin as she set the razor on the bed and snagged his scrotum between two manicured fingernails. Sweet, sharp pain shot through his sack as she stretched it up and aimed the dispensed at his balls. “I’ve been reading those stories you’ve been writing…for that site.” She pressed the button and cold, white foam blew from the can. She covered his balls while she talked. “I’m thinking you’re really wanting more than just my fingernails and teeth.”
He gasped as she snatched the razor from the sheets and yanked his ball sack hard, exposing its underside to the micro-thin blades.
“Not that it matters. I’m way too hot to stop now.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
His cock twitched in anticipation as she shaved him, making no effort to be gentle. Instead, she deliberately ground her nails into his flesh and slapped his balls wherever she needed in order to shave a different part. Though he’d made all his money writing stories for a site specializing in his first fantasy, torturing tits, he didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. He’d written a dozen or more stories for another site – under another pseudonym – that explored his second fantasy. He didn’t know she’d found them, at least until now.
And she was absolutely right, he’d wanted more for a long time. He just thought she’d be too squicked to ask. He couldn’t quite hold back a grin as he twisted and tried to look down the side of the bed where she’d stashed her tools, hoping to find the assortment of candles, rubber bands, needles and stuff his characters were always tormented with, but he couldn’t quite lean far enough to see.
Her laugh sounded genuine, mischievous and delighted as she clutched his balls with a dry towel, wiping them clean with wonderfully cruel tugs. “Lay back and shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be worried or something?”
He forced a frown and then feigned a monotone plea, “Sorry. Sure. Please. Stop. Don’t torture me.”
She bent again and he noticed the barest hint of wetness trickling down a thigh. When she stood back up, she was holding the entire tray. He didn’t get a good look at it before she set it on the bed, hiding it behind the pillow. He hadn’t seen anything tall enough to be a candle, just a small, odd-looking lamp and a glimpse of other things that moved past too fast to recognize.
She bent over the tray for a few moments, absently tweaking a thick, ruby-colored nipple with her fingernails before selecting a hypodermic device that was easily an inch thick, and filled with thick, yellow battery-looking stuff. It’s needle looked more like a twelve penny nail than a needle. From his writing, he knew immediately what it was, but he’d never used flavor injectors in his regular CBT stories.
Remembering exactly where he’d published stories using such things, he tore his eyes from the syringe, forced himself to ignore her luscious breasts, and caught her eye. “Sweetheart, what site did you read?”
She paused for a second and looked at him blankly before an impish smile spread across her face. “Oh, silly, that cock and ball torture stuff was way too tame. I was talking about that cannibal one, where all the girls eat the guys…Femcan Fantasies Forum.”
He’d only written a few stories there, and he thought he’d hidden them from prying eyes. In any case, each one of them had the same theme, and came with a recipe. His eyes widened. She was going to cook his balls!
He looked almost frantically at the Medi-center card. When she wasn’t around he’d played with some of the rougher ball torture – rubber bands, electricity, jumper cables, needles, even hair dryers. And, while he pushed himself to a lot of limits, he was really afraid those stories went too far. Fantasy was one thing, but even knowing he’d have all his stuff grown back… “Hon’, ah… those were really just…um… fantasies. I’m not really sure I’m… I mean the other ones are really more…”
Her eyes gleamed even more as she snatched a scarf from the tray and wadded it up, then stuffed it between his lips. “Did I ask you, sweetheart? You don’t get to pick your birthday present. I do. Besides, I even came up with my own recipe that’s so much more fun.”
Before he could decide whether to fight her or not, she’d stripped a length of duct tape and pressed it firmly over his mouth. By the time she was done, his penis had deflated. Not missing a beat, she bent over, wrapped her lips around it and deftly worked him back to hardness. He closed his eyes, all but overwhelmed as the tip of her tongue tapped across the “v” of his cock’s head. Her fingernails dug back into his sack, causing a wonderfully familiar pain that only momentarily distracted him from what she was doing with her mouth. Up to this point, she’d had plenty of time to become an expert.
He was caught completely by surprise when she jabbed the sharp, thick flavor injecting needle up through the bottom of his scrotum. Though the pain of the needle spearing through his sack almost made him scream, it was just as incredible as he’d hoped.
Just as he started to feel the tell-tale tingling in the head of his cock, she slid her lips off him and rammed the pad of her thumb into the base of his cock, stopping his climax dead. It was about then that he started to feel the frigid fullness slowly fill the inside of his sack. It was a sensation totally unlike anything he’d ever felt. Ice cold, thick batter flowed into his scrotum, oozing around the cords and ducts, surrounding his testicles in a frigid blanket. He felt his sack draw tight, reacting to the cold.
Gasping for breath, he saw her watching curiously as his scrotum filled. When she saw him watching her, she smiled from around his shaft and yanked the huge needle free, sending another jolt of agony coursing through him before plunging it back through the cold, rubbery flesh, not because she needed to – the batter was filling him just fine – but just because she wanted to hurt him again.
He realized that his breathing had become ragged, not from sexual excitement, though his cock had become so stiff it throbbed; and not from pain, since the lancing agony from the needle went away fairly quick and the cold pressure that filled his scrotum didn’t actually hurt, but from knowing that she had every intention of pushing him to limits he’d never thought he’d see.
She palmed the rest of the batter out of the injector and tugged the heavy needle out of his sack. It felt as if she’d plunged his balls into ice. His scrotum was cold, hard and tight, still crinkly even though it was full. His testicles had started to ache – a dull, barely noticeable sensation. He didn’t know if it was because they were ice cold or because they were being lightly crushed. He didn’t really care. His cocked was so hard and sensitive it bounced visibly with each pulse.
A second later, his view was blocked by her swaying breasts. He watched her rock-hard nipples as they came closer, breathed in her sweet, soapy smell and then lost all sight as she brushed them across his face. If he hadn’t been gagged, he’d have snagged a nipple, taken the whole thing into his mouth and chewed like he so often did, but all he could do was enjoy as she rocked herself from side to side, slapping the full mounds back and forth across his face. By the time she stopped, he was out of breath, still gasping moments later as while she took a smaller syringe from the tray.
The first pin prick was nothing compared to the flavor injector. She stuck it sideways so that it stayed into the skin instead of going through it. For a second he was disappointed … and then the burning hit him. It felt as if he’d been injected with acid. He sucked a deep breath through his nose just as she pulled the needle out and slid it into him from another angle. The sensation was incredible – barely tolerable, but incredible. Moving it again, she teased the tip of his cock with her tongue.
“Cinnamon butter…with lots of cinnamon…” She moved the needle to the left side of his sack and poked again. “Does it burn, sweetheart?”
He nodded energetically, and she giggled. “Good, that was the idea.”
After a half dozen more pricks, the syringe was empty. While she stroked his cock slowly with her hand, rubbing her thumb in small circles on the v, she set the syringe aside and grabbed another. She took another five minutes jabbing and basting, during which time he almost came half a dozen times, and would have if she’d not been such an expert cock tease.
After a long, deep kiss, she moved back to work. Taking the lamp-like gadget with one hand, she absently worked at his penis with the other, making sure that, despite the acidic burning in his sack and the cold, dull pain that gnawed even deeper, his shaft was full and throbbing. She set the lamp between his legs, and let go of his dick to position it. When the narrow, goose-necked head was a couple just inches from his balls, she flipped a switch on the cord.
At first a pleasant warmth flooded over his balls, somehow managing to make him almost forget about the cinnamon burn. From his experiments with the blow dryer, he knew what was coming, though. In moments before the warmth turned to a stinging.
“The batter’s made with live yeast. Five minutes is all this will take, sweetheart, plenty of time to let the dough rise, but not nearly enough to cook you…much. I figured you’d have more fun if I left you raw and ballin’.” Though she did like her steaks as rare as she could get them, he recognized the line as one he’d written in one of his stories. He just didn’t remember which one. While she watched his balls slowly bake, she spent her time casually stroking him, with her fingers wrapped around the head of his cock and her thumb perfectly positioned in front. She used the slick liquid that dripped from its tip like lubricant, rubbing the front of his cock hard enough that, despite the intense stinging, she kept him hard.
He looked and tried to watch, but could only see a harsh, red light aimed at his balls. The stinging grew to a constant, nerve-rending burn. He tried to shift, but the heat burned his thighs, butt, or cock, none of which he’d ever cared to have tormented. He could feel the clear, cinnamon flavored sweat beading up and trickling down, tickling his ass.
To his surprise, after a minute when he thought he’d pass out from the pain, the burning seemed to plateau, as if his nerves were going numb or couldn’t register any more agony. He felt his sack start to swell as then batter heated and began to rise. He closed his eyes and concentrated on what she was doing with her thumb. His stories always had his characters coming at this point, but he learned that the pleasure was not quite enough to balance out the pain, especially since it was apparent she had no intention of making him come.
It wasn’t long after that he felt her hand leave his shaft. Sweat dripped down his face when he lifted his head to look, catching her just as she cupped his balls. He was surprised to see that they were about the size of an orange, inflated as the yeast-laden batter cooked and rose inside him. He was so caught up in looking at the red, swollen spectacle, and his unbelievably hard, bouncing shaft, that he didn’t notice the cooking thermometer until she jabbed its pointed steel shaft into him. Though designed to puncture meat, its tip wasn’t nearly as sharp as the injector had been. He groaned as she started forcing it through his tight, slick, swollen sack. Tightening her grip, she squeezed and pushed down, crushing his testicles until the steel rod popped through is scrotum and she relaxed her grip.
She smiled brightly while she watched the digital readout climb. “This is fun. I wish I’d have read your stories sooner.” She slid the thermometer out of him. “Perfectly done. Oh, and look…Mr. Happy’s not happy any more.” He’d been so busy trying to catch his breath and deal with the varieties of pain, he hadn’t even notice that he’d gone flaccid.
Her lips felt like heaven when they sucked him in and lightly ran her fingernails around his burning sack. Like magic, his dick came back to life, but only just before she went back to work and started slathering a cold, white icing, like a balm over his balls. The fact that he felt its sudden coolness offset the burning told him that he was far from cooked. The lamp had only heated the cake batter so it would rise, and given him the equivalent of a deep sunburn.
Which meant he’d feel everything she still planned on doing.
She interspersed spreading the frosty icing with an occasional quick pumping of his cock. Just enough to keep him hard so that the other sensations didn’t overwhelm him. She’d learned the balance years ago. Tease his cock just enough that she could really grind her fingernails into his scrotum or bite him hard. And he’d love it all.
Once she was done icing his balls, she slapped some around the head of his dick. Using just her tongue, she slowly licked it off, paying deliberate attention to the most sensitive parts. He felt a bead of pre-cum ooze from its tip. She licked it off with a giggle and then went back to her tray.
When she turned around, she was holding a handful of birthday candles. Each of them was stuck in the top of a two inch long, fine hypodermic needle. Smiling like the Cheshire Cat, she positioned one of them so that it was upright over his sack. As she started slowly pressing it down with one hand, she idle stroked his cock with the other. The needle slipped through the tight skin easily. In fact, he hardly felt it until its tip met with the resistance of a testicle’s tough shell. Without missing a beat, or a stroke, she rolled the needle from side to side until it drilled easily into his ball. He was surprised that it didn’t hurt more than it did, but he was rather distracted.
After the next two candles were in place, she stopped playing with his cock and started tweaking her left nipple instead. Five minutes later, thirty-something candles were in place, half of them anchored in one of his testicles or something besides cooked cake batter. After she found the lighter, she dropped her hand from her nipples to her clit, not even bothering with friendly conversation as she started lighting the candles.
When she was about 1/3 through lighting them, she looked from the dancing flame to his eyes and giggled again. She lowered the lighter so that the flame was in front of his scrotum and then moved it forward until it started lapping up its front. At first he felt nothing, though he saw smoke rising and smelled the sweet burning odor of the icing. It was only a second later that the icing had melted, and a second after that that he felt the flame begin to sear. Afraid she’d go too far, and that the pain would make him incapable of enjoying anything else, he forgot all about the other sensations and bucked to escape the lighter just as she yanked it back with a gleeful laugh.
But he’d forgotten about the thirty plus needle tips that were either nestled in or nearby his testicles, though he was quickly reminded of them when they either jabbed deeper or sc****d across the tender balls. He cried out into the tape and dropped back onto the bed as quickly as he could.
“Oh, poor baby’s dick isn’t happy again.” She moved the flame back to the rest of the candles and began working to restore his erection. After a couple of minutes, he was as hard as before, but given the constant pain he knew he wouldn’t stay that way if she stopped long – which was just when she stopped and started fingering herself again.
“Make a wish, love. I’ll blow them out for you.” Without waiting, she took a deep breath and blew.
As he was finishing his wish – that it would end as well as he’d fantasized – she wrapped her hand around half the candles and squeezed them together. He felt the needles shift inside him, some of them scr****g or tearing until she yanked them free. While he caught his breath and wiped the tears from his eyes with his shoulder, she pulled the rest free, then grabbed a serrated carving knife and steel-tined carving fork.
Had it not been for her wonderfully sadistic intentions, her smile would have been almost angelic.
Instead of watching what she did to him, he concentrated on her hard-nippled breasts as she bent over him, watching them sway and thinking about how, maybe, she’d consider letting him do the same with them the same way one day. Just as he started imagining what a cinnamon basted nipple might taste like, she speared his sack with the fork.
Before he could do more than catch his breath and moan, she started sawing. He felt the razor-sharp knife slice through his sack and couldn’t help but watch through watery eyes as she carved a thin slice of meat and cake off the front of his balls. Though the excruciating pain was something he’d never felt before, it wasn’t bad enough to make him forget his cock, and even though his eyes were tearing, he watched – captivated – as she brought the fork to her mouth.
When he wrote his stories, he’d never really dwelled much on what the tormentors thought of their special meals, but judging from the way she quickly positioned the knife for another slice, and the way her eyes glinted as she licked the icing from her lips, he could tell this one liked it.
At the rate she was carving, it would take her several slices before she actually hit a testicle, and though he thought he could tolerate – and even enjoy – her leisurely slicing as long as she gave his cock some attention until then, he highly doubted he’d be able to stand having his raw nuts carved up, regardless of his stories.
He felt her begin the second slice and realized, as he cried out into the tape, that he might be wrong. Each time she cut, more of his sack would be involved, and each cut was making it harder for him to concentrate on the pleasure. By the time she was half way into the second slice, the pain had become so excruciating that he wished she’d let him come and then finish. He could feel his flesh and the cake it surrounded as it folded down from the rest of his scrotum to, finally, drop to the bed.
Instead of cutting the slice up, however, she stopped and watched him, as if she were trying to read his mind. By then he didn’t care. He just closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his cock. A few seconds later, she pressed the blade of the knife so that it bit into his sack at its base, right next to his miraculously erect shaft.
“You know, you really taste great!” She edged the knife backward, letting it just begin to slice, and giggled as he groaned. “I think I need something to wash it down with, though.” Moving the knife back and forth so that its serrated edge bit slowly into his flesh, she started sucking his cock with a vengeance. He’d been tortured and teased so much that he was afraid he wouldn’t come, that she’d have given him his fantasy for nothing. But, after a couple minutes of skilled mouth and tongue-work, combined with shallow cutting around the base of his balls, he felt the tell-tale building that she’d started and stopped a dozen times. This time she didn’t stop.
Instead, she let the knife rest and concentrated on his cock, teasing it mercilessly with the tip of her tongue. Just a few moments later he groaned and stiffened, trying to help the orgasm along. Reading his body language, she sucked hard, setting of an explosion the likes of which he’d never felt – which was when she shoved the fork down, spearing a testicle, and drew her knife hand backward in one swift, sure motion.
He wasn’t sure what overwhelmed him the most – the agony, or the ecstasy. It really didn’t matter because, as she drank him dry and his swollen sack and its contents fell to the bed, he passed into merciful, blissful oblivion.
His wife’s voice greeted him as she lifted the pillow away from his face. “Morning, sleepy head. Happy birthday!”
The morning light bathed their bedroom in a gentle yellow, not overly bright but light enough that he could see everything quite clearly. She was dressed in a white, cotton apron tied around her waist, and nothing else. Her breasts jiggled as she tossed the pillow toward the foot of the bed and pulled the covers off his body. Her nipples were hard and thick and her aureoles were firm and crinkled. Whatever she had in mind, she was obviously looking forward to it. Which reminded him…
Tugging half-heartedly on the ropes binding his wrists he tore his gaze from her tits and smiled sleepily up at her. “I take it you’ve got a special birthday present in mind?”
She bent over toward the foot of the bed so that her bare rear faced him. Her thick, full, shaved pussy lips peeked from between her cheeks. The inner folds glistened, reinforcing his earlier thought. Whatever she’d been doing before he woke up, and whatever she planned, she was hot for it. He felt his cock spring the rest of the way to life, as if sensing that fun was there to be had.
She straightened and dropped a credit card-sized voucher onto the nightstand beside him, close enough that he could read it. “Do you trust me?”
He looked at the card. It was her Medi-center identification. He had no idea what she meant and his raised eyebrow told her so.
She giggled and bent back over. “You’re fully covered on my account now. Transplants, cloning, regens, the works. $2,500.00 deductible.” When she stood up, she was holding a can of shaving cream and a multi-blade razor. Her smile widened to a grin as she set the razor on the bed and snagged his scrotum between two manicured fingernails. Sweet, sharp pain shot through his sack as she stretched it up and aimed the dispensed at his balls. “I’ve been reading those stories you’ve been writing…for that site.” She pressed the button and cold, white foam blew from the can. She covered his balls while she talked. “I’m thinking you’re really wanting more than just my fingernails and teeth.”
He gasped as she snatched the razor from the sheets and yanked his ball sack hard, exposing its underside to the micro-thin blades.
“Not that it matters. I’m way too hot to stop now.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
His cock twitched in anticipation as she shaved him, making no effort to be gentle. Instead, she deliberately ground her nails into his flesh and slapped his balls wherever she needed in order to shave a different part. Though he’d made all his money writing stories for a site specializing in his first fantasy, torturing tits, he didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. He’d written a dozen or more stories for another site – under another pseudonym – that explored his second fantasy. He didn’t know she’d found them, at least until now.
And she was absolutely right, he’d wanted more for a long time. He just thought she’d be too squicked to ask. He couldn’t quite hold back a grin as he twisted and tried to look down the side of the bed where she’d stashed her tools, hoping to find the assortment of candles, rubber bands, needles and stuff his characters were always tormented with, but he couldn’t quite lean far enough to see.
Her laugh sounded genuine, mischievous and delighted as she clutched his balls with a dry towel, wiping them clean with wonderfully cruel tugs. “Lay back and shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be worried or something?”
He forced a frown and then feigned a monotone plea, “Sorry. Sure. Please. Stop. Don’t torture me.”
She bent again and he noticed the barest hint of wetness trickling down a thigh. When she stood back up, she was holding the entire tray. He didn’t get a good look at it before she set it on the bed, hiding it behind the pillow. He hadn’t seen anything tall enough to be a candle, just a small, odd-looking lamp and a glimpse of other things that moved past too fast to recognize.
She bent over the tray for a few moments, absently tweaking a thick, ruby-colored nipple with her fingernails before selecting a hypodermic device that was easily an inch thick, and filled with thick, yellow battery-looking stuff. It’s needle looked more like a twelve penny nail than a needle. From his writing, he knew immediately what it was, but he’d never used flavor injectors in his regular CBT stories.
Remembering exactly where he’d published stories using such things, he tore his eyes from the syringe, forced himself to ignore her luscious breasts, and caught her eye. “Sweetheart, what site did you read?”
She paused for a second and looked at him blankly before an impish smile spread across her face. “Oh, silly, that cock and ball torture stuff was way too tame. I was talking about that cannibal one, where all the girls eat the guys…Femcan Fantasies Forum.”
He’d only written a few stories there, and he thought he’d hidden them from prying eyes. In any case, each one of them had the same theme, and came with a recipe. His eyes widened. She was going to cook his balls!
He looked almost frantically at the Medi-center card. When she wasn’t around he’d played with some of the rougher ball torture – rubber bands, electricity, jumper cables, needles, even hair dryers. And, while he pushed himself to a lot of limits, he was really afraid those stories went too far. Fantasy was one thing, but even knowing he’d have all his stuff grown back… “Hon’, ah… those were really just…um… fantasies. I’m not really sure I’m… I mean the other ones are really more…”
Her eyes gleamed even more as she snatched a scarf from the tray and wadded it up, then stuffed it between his lips. “Did I ask you, sweetheart? You don’t get to pick your birthday present. I do. Besides, I even came up with my own recipe that’s so much more fun.”
Before he could decide whether to fight her or not, she’d stripped a length of duct tape and pressed it firmly over his mouth. By the time she was done, his penis had deflated. Not missing a beat, she bent over, wrapped her lips around it and deftly worked him back to hardness. He closed his eyes, all but overwhelmed as the tip of her tongue tapped across the “v” of his cock’s head. Her fingernails dug back into his sack, causing a wonderfully familiar pain that only momentarily distracted him from what she was doing with her mouth. Up to this point, she’d had plenty of time to become an expert.
He was caught completely by surprise when she jabbed the sharp, thick flavor injecting needle up through the bottom of his scrotum. Though the pain of the needle spearing through his sack almost made him scream, it was just as incredible as he’d hoped.
Just as he started to feel the tell-tale tingling in the head of his cock, she slid her lips off him and rammed the pad of her thumb into the base of his cock, stopping his climax dead. It was about then that he started to feel the frigid fullness slowly fill the inside of his sack. It was a sensation totally unlike anything he’d ever felt. Ice cold, thick batter flowed into his scrotum, oozing around the cords and ducts, surrounding his testicles in a frigid blanket. He felt his sack draw tight, reacting to the cold.
Gasping for breath, he saw her watching curiously as his scrotum filled. When she saw him watching her, she smiled from around his shaft and yanked the huge needle free, sending another jolt of agony coursing through him before plunging it back through the cold, rubbery flesh, not because she needed to – the batter was filling him just fine – but just because she wanted to hurt him again.
He realized that his breathing had become ragged, not from sexual excitement, though his cock had become so stiff it throbbed; and not from pain, since the lancing agony from the needle went away fairly quick and the cold pressure that filled his scrotum didn’t actually hurt, but from knowing that she had every intention of pushing him to limits he’d never thought he’d see.
She palmed the rest of the batter out of the injector and tugged the heavy needle out of his sack. It felt as if she’d plunged his balls into ice. His scrotum was cold, hard and tight, still crinkly even though it was full. His testicles had started to ache – a dull, barely noticeable sensation. He didn’t know if it was because they were ice cold or because they were being lightly crushed. He didn’t really care. His cocked was so hard and sensitive it bounced visibly with each pulse.
A second later, his view was blocked by her swaying breasts. He watched her rock-hard nipples as they came closer, breathed in her sweet, soapy smell and then lost all sight as she brushed them across his face. If he hadn’t been gagged, he’d have snagged a nipple, taken the whole thing into his mouth and chewed like he so often did, but all he could do was enjoy as she rocked herself from side to side, slapping the full mounds back and forth across his face. By the time she stopped, he was out of breath, still gasping moments later as while she took a smaller syringe from the tray.
The first pin prick was nothing compared to the flavor injector. She stuck it sideways so that it stayed into the skin instead of going through it. For a second he was disappointed … and then the burning hit him. It felt as if he’d been injected with acid. He sucked a deep breath through his nose just as she pulled the needle out and slid it into him from another angle. The sensation was incredible – barely tolerable, but incredible. Moving it again, she teased the tip of his cock with her tongue.
“Cinnamon butter…with lots of cinnamon…” She moved the needle to the left side of his sack and poked again. “Does it burn, sweetheart?”
He nodded energetically, and she giggled. “Good, that was the idea.”
After a half dozen more pricks, the syringe was empty. While she stroked his cock slowly with her hand, rubbing her thumb in small circles on the v, she set the syringe aside and grabbed another. She took another five minutes jabbing and basting, during which time he almost came half a dozen times, and would have if she’d not been such an expert cock tease.
After a long, deep kiss, she moved back to work. Taking the lamp-like gadget with one hand, she absently worked at his penis with the other, making sure that, despite the acidic burning in his sack and the cold, dull pain that gnawed even deeper, his shaft was full and throbbing. She set the lamp between his legs, and let go of his dick to position it. When the narrow, goose-necked head was a couple just inches from his balls, she flipped a switch on the cord.
At first a pleasant warmth flooded over his balls, somehow managing to make him almost forget about the cinnamon burn. From his experiments with the blow dryer, he knew what was coming, though. In moments before the warmth turned to a stinging.
“The batter’s made with live yeast. Five minutes is all this will take, sweetheart, plenty of time to let the dough rise, but not nearly enough to cook you…much. I figured you’d have more fun if I left you raw and ballin’.” Though she did like her steaks as rare as she could get them, he recognized the line as one he’d written in one of his stories. He just didn’t remember which one. While she watched his balls slowly bake, she spent her time casually stroking him, with her fingers wrapped around the head of his cock and her thumb perfectly positioned in front. She used the slick liquid that dripped from its tip like lubricant, rubbing the front of his cock hard enough that, despite the intense stinging, she kept him hard.
He looked and tried to watch, but could only see a harsh, red light aimed at his balls. The stinging grew to a constant, nerve-rending burn. He tried to shift, but the heat burned his thighs, butt, or cock, none of which he’d ever cared to have tormented. He could feel the clear, cinnamon flavored sweat beading up and trickling down, tickling his ass.
To his surprise, after a minute when he thought he’d pass out from the pain, the burning seemed to plateau, as if his nerves were going numb or couldn’t register any more agony. He felt his sack start to swell as then batter heated and began to rise. He closed his eyes and concentrated on what she was doing with her thumb. His stories always had his characters coming at this point, but he learned that the pleasure was not quite enough to balance out the pain, especially since it was apparent she had no intention of making him come.
It wasn’t long after that he felt her hand leave his shaft. Sweat dripped down his face when he lifted his head to look, catching her just as she cupped his balls. He was surprised to see that they were about the size of an orange, inflated as the yeast-laden batter cooked and rose inside him. He was so caught up in looking at the red, swollen spectacle, and his unbelievably hard, bouncing shaft, that he didn’t notice the cooking thermometer until she jabbed its pointed steel shaft into him. Though designed to puncture meat, its tip wasn’t nearly as sharp as the injector had been. He groaned as she started forcing it through his tight, slick, swollen sack. Tightening her grip, she squeezed and pushed down, crushing his testicles until the steel rod popped through is scrotum and she relaxed her grip.
She smiled brightly while she watched the digital readout climb. “This is fun. I wish I’d have read your stories sooner.” She slid the thermometer out of him. “Perfectly done. Oh, and look…Mr. Happy’s not happy any more.” He’d been so busy trying to catch his breath and deal with the varieties of pain, he hadn’t even notice that he’d gone flaccid.
Her lips felt like heaven when they sucked him in and lightly ran her fingernails around his burning sack. Like magic, his dick came back to life, but only just before she went back to work and started slathering a cold, white icing, like a balm over his balls. The fact that he felt its sudden coolness offset the burning told him that he was far from cooked. The lamp had only heated the cake batter so it would rise, and given him the equivalent of a deep sunburn.
Which meant he’d feel everything she still planned on doing.
She interspersed spreading the frosty icing with an occasional quick pumping of his cock. Just enough to keep him hard so that the other sensations didn’t overwhelm him. She’d learned the balance years ago. Tease his cock just enough that she could really grind her fingernails into his scrotum or bite him hard. And he’d love it all.
Once she was done icing his balls, she slapped some around the head of his dick. Using just her tongue, she slowly licked it off, paying deliberate attention to the most sensitive parts. He felt a bead of pre-cum ooze from its tip. She licked it off with a giggle and then went back to her tray.
When she turned around, she was holding a handful of birthday candles. Each of them was stuck in the top of a two inch long, fine hypodermic needle. Smiling like the Cheshire Cat, she positioned one of them so that it was upright over his sack. As she started slowly pressing it down with one hand, she idle stroked his cock with the other. The needle slipped through the tight skin easily. In fact, he hardly felt it until its tip met with the resistance of a testicle’s tough shell. Without missing a beat, or a stroke, she rolled the needle from side to side until it drilled easily into his ball. He was surprised that it didn’t hurt more than it did, but he was rather distracted.
After the next two candles were in place, she stopped playing with his cock and started tweaking her left nipple instead. Five minutes later, thirty-something candles were in place, half of them anchored in one of his testicles or something besides cooked cake batter. After she found the lighter, she dropped her hand from her nipples to her clit, not even bothering with friendly conversation as she started lighting the candles.
When she was about 1/3 through lighting them, she looked from the dancing flame to his eyes and giggled again. She lowered the lighter so that the flame was in front of his scrotum and then moved it forward until it started lapping up its front. At first he felt nothing, though he saw smoke rising and smelled the sweet burning odor of the icing. It was only a second later that the icing had melted, and a second after that that he felt the flame begin to sear. Afraid she’d go too far, and that the pain would make him incapable of enjoying anything else, he forgot all about the other sensations and bucked to escape the lighter just as she yanked it back with a gleeful laugh.
But he’d forgotten about the thirty plus needle tips that were either nestled in or nearby his testicles, though he was quickly reminded of them when they either jabbed deeper or sc****d across the tender balls. He cried out into the tape and dropped back onto the bed as quickly as he could.
“Oh, poor baby’s dick isn’t happy again.” She moved the flame back to the rest of the candles and began working to restore his erection. After a couple of minutes, he was as hard as before, but given the constant pain he knew he wouldn’t stay that way if she stopped long – which was just when she stopped and started fingering herself again.
“Make a wish, love. I’ll blow them out for you.” Without waiting, she took a deep breath and blew.
As he was finishing his wish – that it would end as well as he’d fantasized – she wrapped her hand around half the candles and squeezed them together. He felt the needles shift inside him, some of them scr****g or tearing until she yanked them free. While he caught his breath and wiped the tears from his eyes with his shoulder, she pulled the rest free, then grabbed a serrated carving knife and steel-tined carving fork.
Had it not been for her wonderfully sadistic intentions, her smile would have been almost angelic.
Instead of watching what she did to him, he concentrated on her hard-nippled breasts as she bent over him, watching them sway and thinking about how, maybe, she’d consider letting him do the same with them the same way one day. Just as he started imagining what a cinnamon basted nipple might taste like, she speared his sack with the fork.
Before he could do more than catch his breath and moan, she started sawing. He felt the razor-sharp knife slice through his sack and couldn’t help but watch through watery eyes as she carved a thin slice of meat and cake off the front of his balls. Though the excruciating pain was something he’d never felt before, it wasn’t bad enough to make him forget his cock, and even though his eyes were tearing, he watched – captivated – as she brought the fork to her mouth.
When he wrote his stories, he’d never really dwelled much on what the tormentors thought of their special meals, but judging from the way she quickly positioned the knife for another slice, and the way her eyes glinted as she licked the icing from her lips, he could tell this one liked it.
At the rate she was carving, it would take her several slices before she actually hit a testicle, and though he thought he could tolerate – and even enjoy – her leisurely slicing as long as she gave his cock some attention until then, he highly doubted he’d be able to stand having his raw nuts carved up, regardless of his stories.
He felt her begin the second slice and realized, as he cried out into the tape, that he might be wrong. Each time she cut, more of his sack would be involved, and each cut was making it harder for him to concentrate on the pleasure. By the time she was half way into the second slice, the pain had become so excruciating that he wished she’d let him come and then finish. He could feel his flesh and the cake it surrounded as it folded down from the rest of his scrotum to, finally, drop to the bed.
Instead of cutting the slice up, however, she stopped and watched him, as if she were trying to read his mind. By then he didn’t care. He just closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his cock. A few seconds later, she pressed the blade of the knife so that it bit into his sack at its base, right next to his miraculously erect shaft.
“You know, you really taste great!” She edged the knife backward, letting it just begin to slice, and giggled as he groaned. “I think I need something to wash it down with, though.” Moving the knife back and forth so that its serrated edge bit slowly into his flesh, she started sucking his cock with a vengeance. He’d been tortured and teased so much that he was afraid he wouldn’t come, that she’d have given him his fantasy for nothing. But, after a couple minutes of skilled mouth and tongue-work, combined with shallow cutting around the base of his balls, he felt the tell-tale building that she’d started and stopped a dozen times. This time she didn’t stop.
Instead, she let the knife rest and concentrated on his cock, teasing it mercilessly with the tip of her tongue. Just a few moments later he groaned and stiffened, trying to help the orgasm along. Reading his body language, she sucked hard, setting of an explosion the likes of which he’d never felt – which was when she shoved the fork down, spearing a testicle, and drew her knife hand backward in one swift, sure motion.
He wasn’t sure what overwhelmed him the most – the agony, or the ecstasy. It really didn’t matter because, as she drank him dry and his swollen sack and its contents fell to the bed, he passed into merciful, blissful oblivion.
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