After a rather un-heroic performance with Tom I was left wondering what to do to get my nuts crushed. I knew I wasn't going to get any great thrill at Bondage Club meetings and in fact never went to another. But I did have a list of members, names, phone numbers etc. and what their interests were. Over the next few weeks I called quite a few, met up with one or two.
There was one guy who had interested me at the meetings I'd been to. He was very well built, very masculine, virile looking guy, and his listing implied that he was a top. In fact as I later discovered he had been a ballet dancer in one of the big name companies in NYC, and although he no longer danced he was still involved in some management position. I called him and was pleased to find that he wanted to meet me too. So next time I was in the city I went to his apartment way up in the 90's on the west side of Manhattan. When he let me in he was wearing just a pair of black dancer's tights, like they were sprayed on, showed every vein up the length of his cock! The apartment was a striking looking place too, all done in reds and black, things looked good. He told me to strip while he got us some wine, I was hard and ready when he got back. We talked for a bit then he led me by the hand, like a pas-de-deux, into another room. Right in the center of the room was a hook hanging from the ceiling, that looked good. He tied my arms, stretched them above my head and secured them to the hook, that felt good. Next he pulled out a load of ropes from a closet. From top to toe I was tied up one way, then the ropes were removed and I was tied up another way. Yes, he did touch my cock and balls, but it had nothing to do with sex, only to get the ropes in the right places, the knots in parallel lines down the length of my very rigid cock. He was a spider in human form, only he didn't eat, or even fondle, his prey. I guess it was a turn on for him, it did nothing for me. Two hours later, with my balls still aching for a beating, I left to go and jerk off in my room.
There were another two guys listed who said they were into CBT. Naturally I called them both. Each time I spoke to either of them they'd say that they'd love to meet, they were both very enthusiastic, but they weren't free that night. We'd arrange to meet the following week. When I called the following week they'd have an unexpected guest staying, they'd have a cold, an early start the following morning. But they'd definitely like to meet as soon as possible so we'd set up another meeting for my next visit. Because both of them sounded so enthusiastic it took me a while to figure out that they didn't ever intend to keep an appointment. After being strung along several times I wrote to each of them, a cutting and crushing letter, I hope it hurt. Maybe CBT was something that fascinated them, just as it did me, but when the time came they were just too scared to try it even as tops. Another thing I found over and over again was that guys would place really interesting ads in magazines, "Top looking for bottoms into CBT: first time, novices or experienced: all welcome: limits respected: let's do it!!!" But they'd never respond to answers. Apparently it's a common phenomenon, even when I joined another club, The Ball Club, with quite a small membership there were guys who had ads that they never answered. Why they put the ad in I'll never know, maybe they jerk off with the replies in their hands.
There were another couple of ads in the Bondage Club list that really interested me, one was a city phone number, the other a box number. I tried calling the number many times but never got an answer. Nor was there a machine so I couldn't leave a message so after a while I gave up on this one. I wrote to the other guy and I did get a reply. His reply was very hot indeed, but he was in Great Neck out on Long Island. I wasn't exactly sure where Great Neck was so when I replied I explained that I didn't feel happy about going out of town the evening I arrived. It meant going by the LIRR train which wasn't like using the subways or busses, for one thing the subway and busses ran all night whereas if I'd missed the last train to town I'd have had to spend the night in a motel. He wrote again trying to persuade me to come, I didn't go, but strangely enough our paths crossed again later. When we did meet it was quite something, but that too is another chapter.
I continued to reply to ads, but very seldom got a response. I worked out that guys who placed ads in magazines couldn't be bothered writing a letter, putting it in an envelope, getting a stamp and mailing it. They wanted phone numbers to call. I couldn't give them one since I never knew when exactly I'd be in the hotel. Moreover, my wife used to come with me several times a year, I didn't want strangers calling me up if she happened to be with me. So what I did was to enclose a stamped, addressed envelope with my letter. This improved the response rate a bit but not all that much. My next ploy was to include a piece of paper which said: -
"Yes I'd like to meet, you can call me at......"
"No I don't want to meet....."
"Please tick." I also added that if they gave me a number to call I'd be totally discreet so they didn't have to worry even if it was a work number. After this I started to get quite a few replies to my letters. One was from a guy called Frank who I met quite a few times.
Frank gave me his home number, I called him as soon as I'd read his letter. We must have talked for an hour. I felt good about meeting him, and agreed to go to his apartment which wasn't too far from the hotel, down around 28th at 9th Avenue. He was on the third floor, walk-up, I rang the bell. The sight that met my eyes was amazing. He was bollock naked when he opened the door, but no, that wasn't what surprised me, it was the contents of the apartment. The small entrance lobby was piled floor to ceiling with "stuff," every conceivable piece of household equipment you can think of, toasters, TV's, radios, microwaves, cardboard boxes, suitcases, plastic bags. There was a narrow passage through to the living room. He invited me in. The living room was a bigger version of the lobby, more stuff, vastly more.
"I er... Well I sort of collect things," he said when he saw my face. It was the understatement of the year! There were more TV's, video recorders, blenders, mixers, bicycles, exercise machines, books and LP's all built into a "wall" around the room. This wall I must add wasn't just the thickness of a TV set, there must have been several feet of "stuff" in it and it extended all around the room leaving just enough space for two easy chairs and access to the doors.
"How many TV's do you have?" I asked in wonder.
"I think around 27," he said. "They're all hooked up and working," he added hastily as though that made it more reasonable. "And I've got 17 videos. They all work too." And as if to prove that he wasn't just collecting junk he switched on half-a-dozen TV's scattered around in the wall of stuff.
In his bedroom there were three more TV's, and three videos, also working, all showing different, vigorous s&m scenes.
"Why don't you get comfortable?" He didn't mean 'comfortable' he meant naked. I did, he liked what he saw, liked it very much. I'd told him on the phone that I hadn't had a lot of experience so when he pushed me down on the bed and started on my balls he was quite gentle, too gentle in fact. I might not have had much experience, but by this time I knew that I wanted pain so I held them up for him and made all the right noises. He was delighted, turned up the pressure, I knew this was going to be good. After a while he stopped.
"Have you ever been tied up?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, then with a tightening knot in my stomach I added, "I really liked it." Again I saw that I'd pleased him and I tried to concentrate on the excitement that I'd felt when my arms and legs had been spread wide giving Tom complete access to my cock and balls rather than the fear that had followed. Strange isn't it that being utterly vulnerable should be intensely exciting? Maybe it's just me, but I don't think so. Does it turn you on too?
Very soon I was spread-eagled on his bed, not lengthwise but across it, with my butt close to the edge and ankles tied with lengths of rope to the bed legs. He then he produced a black leather hood. When I saw it I again felt an icy feeling in my stomach. I'm not sure why being hooded and unable to see makes it more scary, at this stage with my arms and legs spread wide, there was really nothing I could do to save myself anyway. I had written a letter to myself saying where I was going, that might bring him to justice if things went very wrong, but what if he was a nut case? Then I realized that Frank had not asked if he could tie me up, he'd only asked if I had ever been tied. I had virtually asked him to do it by saying that I liked it. That thought helped me to relax a bit. Anyway, there was no way that I could prevent him from putting the thing over my head so I let it happen. Once his hands got back to my balls these fears were completely forgotten, my mind was fully occupied as I struggled to hang loose and let them take the punishment. He really was very good.
After an eternity there was a pause, I was left alone in silence. I had the feeling that he'd left the room but couldn't be sure. A minute or two later I smelled burning! Now I was scared.
"What are you doing?" I asked from inside the hood. He didn't reply. "Look, I know you've got a flame there. Whatever you're doing I don't want it! Absolutely don't want it!" Still no reply.
The next thing I felt was him move in close between my legs, then a very sharp sting in the middle of my scrotum. I bucked furiously hoping that the ropes might break, they didn't. Another sting, then two, three, four. Because I was struggling as much as the ropes would allow these stings were spread around my crotch. I didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but it hurt. Then I caught the smell of candle wax, I'd played with candles as a child, I knew that it only hurt for a moment without doing damage, but of course I'd never dripped hot wax on my balls. After a bit it didn't seem too bad, sharp pain, but not seriously sharp and it faded quickly. I held still for a moment.
"Good boy!" he said soothingly. "You see, you do want it, don't you?" The next moment a load of wax splashed down on my sac! Yeow! That was way too much. I yelled and thrashed about. "All right, you can calm down, that's enough for now." Frank's voice was soothing, I heard myself thanking him for being so considerate.
The next thing he did was to put a stretcher on my balls. This wasn't easy, the wax made it difficult for him to get a good grip on them and he kept getting a fold of skin trapped as he tried to close the fastener. I'd yell and buck, the balls would escape, and he'd have to start again. When he eventually he fixed it in place I realized that it wasn't a stretcher, it was a parachute. When he pulled on the chains my balls were dragged down, it felt good.
"Ever had your balls weighted?" he asked.
"No Sir."
"Right, we'll start with five pounds." It was a statement, no discussion.
I was worried. 'Five pounds...that's like a small sack of potatoes...can they take that?' I wondered. Well I was going to find out because there was nothing I could do to save my balls from what was coming!
He re-positioned me so that my hips were right at the edge of the bed. A bit more fiddling down between my legs and then the dragging feeling as he let go of the weight and my balls took the strain. I was surprised, it felt good. My cords were being stretched way down, but there wasn't any great pain. When he saw that I was comfortable with the strain he started to swing the weight. Now there was more pain, my balls were swinging from side to side and back to front, the cords being stretched with each swing. But it was good pain, spreading up from my testicles and into my guts. I was in ecstasy and I let him know it.
"Well that's obviously not too much for you, let's try ten." Frank stopped the swinging weight, took it in his hand. When he let go again I felt a real wrench, wonderful pain! Suddenly I realized that this was exactly what I'd wanted for years and years: to be completely naked, at another man's mercy, suffering pure ball torture. It was exquisite!
He jerked me off with the ten pound weight still hanging on my balls. Every movement of his hand made the weight jiggle which sent ripples of pain from my testicles up into my guts. I could feel the semen rising, you know that feeling when the juice is on the way? I was more than ready, but it took a long time to come, I guess because the tubes from the testicles were stretched and under strain, but when it happened it was incredible. Because of the weight my cock was standing up vertically, the juice shot straight up then splattered down around the base and on my balls. I could feel it flowing down the insides of my thighs, seeping into the crack of my ass. It was a great release.
Naturally I called Frank next time I was in town, to my delight he sounded equally enthusiastic. When I arrived most of the TV's were switched on, all showing s&m movies, not that I saw much of them. He said he wanted to undress me this time which sounded hot to me. First thing he did was to blindfold me with a leather blindfold, not the hood he'd used last time, then slowly peeled off one garment at a time. By the time he guided me through to the bedroom I was about ready to cum. He laid me across the bed again, hips right at the edge, legs over the side. First he secured my legs, then standing between them he lent over my body to tie my arms. I felt his cock brush against mine, he was as hard as I was. First one wrist, then the other. My balls were right there for him, they were going to be tortured. It wasn't a question of wondering if he'd do it, or hoping he'd do it, it was going to happen, and there was nothing I could do to save them. God it felt so good! When Frank was through with both wrists he lay down on my body. He started to kiss my forehead, then came down to my cheeks. I still wasn't sure if kissing on the mouth, deep kissing, was dangerous. He didn't try it, but I wouldn't have been able to resist if he had. I could feel his cock lying beside mine against my stomach, it was big, and hard. I wondered if he wanted to fuck me. I'd have let him do it with a condom.
"Thank you for coming back," he said quietly in my ear.
"I've thought of nothing else since I was here last."
"No... I want to thank you for letting me do that...Take your balls like that..."
"Believe me there's nothing I want more than to have you take my balls...why do you think I've come back...It was fantastic!"
"You mean that? You really mean it?" I nodded. "That's wonderful... I don't want to hurt you, but I do want to hurt your balls... Can you understand that?"
"I don't want to be hurt either... Except for my balls, I want you to hurt them...make them suffer...my cock too maybe." I was taking a chance, but with his gentle kisses raining down on my face I felt safe.
Frank slipped down my body. I felt a wet trail from the tip of his cock. It slipped between my legs just below my balls. I moved my hips, the head moved up into my crack. I was so turned on I wanted to be fucked, just so long as he used a condom. It felt big, but I'd taken bigger, I knew I could take it if he'd ease it in. I expected him to start thrusting to get it still deeper, he didn't. He moved his head down to my chest, took one nipple in his mouth. I never enjoyed tit torture, I took it because that seemed to be part of the s&m scene, but didn't enjoy it. He was very gentle, just kissed and sucked, but I was tense waiting for the bite.
"And what about these tits? You like them to be tortured?"
"It's not a turn on for me...but if it's good for you, you can do it."
"No," he said to my relief, "it's your balls I want. Don't want your tits, don't want your ass. Just want your balls. You ready to give them to me?" So my ass was safe, I don't know if I was glad or sorry, a bit of both maybe, but I was definitely ready to put my balls on the line.
"Yes please Sir," I said. "Please stretch my limits Sir."
He was delighted, slid further down, started kissing my balls. "Where have you been all this time?" he asked between kisses. "I've always wanted a man who'd give me his balls. They always say I can have them, but when the pressure comes on they back away. You really want your limits raised?"
"Oh yes please Sir!"
"Good boy...give them to Daddy. Daddy knows what they need." He took one of my balls in his mouth. He was very gentle for a while, then he started to put the pressure on, sucking it down into the back of his mouth. Amazing how much that hurt. He did the same to the other one for a while, then started to chew on it. He was still being gentle, not sinking his teeth in, but even so it was an incredible sensation as I felt his sharp, white teeth sink into the soft meat of my testicle, left me completely breathless. By the time he raised his head he was really happy.
"God boy that was so good. I'm going to hurt you so much! You want that, don't you boy?"
"Yes please Sir!" I said panting as though I'd run up the stairs to his apartment. I'd waited so long too.
For the next hour Frank worked on my balls in his mouth and with his fingers. He kneaded them like putty, pulled them down, out to the sides, crushed them in his fist. I knew I had to let them hang loose, let him use them, abuse them. If I'd tried to save them I'd have tightened up and I'd have been screaming for him to stop. It was a struggle, the pain was very hard to take, yet in a strange way I was in heaven not hell. This time when he lit the candle I knew what was coming, I wasn't terrified, I was ready for it. Frank enjoyed himself much more this time too, a lot more wax literally coated my scrotum. When he put the parachute on I knew it was time to take the weights.
"What did we use last time boy?" he asked although I'm sure he knew.
"Ten pounds Sir."
"OK...We'll start with ten and work up to twenty this time."
'Twenty pounds! Shit! How much strain can they take?' I wondered.
"You know what the record is?' he asked as though reading my mind. I shook my head. "Seventy-three pounds, you want to try for the record?"
"Oh not tonight Sir, not tonight." Seventy-three pounds? Can you believe that? Apparently it's true, maybe more by now.
Frank started with the ten pound weight. It hurt for a while, but once my cords had been stretched it felt okay. Fifteen didn't seem much different until he started swinging the weight, I felt that. After ten or fifteen minutes he asked if I was ready for the twenty. I nodded. For a moment the strain came off my balls as he changed the weight, then shit, it seemed like the load had been trebled. The twenty pound load dragged my balls halfway to the floor.
"Oh NO!" I gasped, "That's too much! Way too much. Please Sir, I can't take it Sir!"
"Let go...Don't fight it."
"No really...I can't..."
"You want to back off too?" I remembered what he'd said, and how cocky I'd been. Then I realized that in spite of trying to relax I was fighting the load. I forced my balls down, let them be dragged out. I don't suppose they actually dropped any lower, but it felt as though they dropped another inch or two. But to my surprise the pain eased a lot.
"No...I don't want to back out...I'll take it," I gasped breathlessly.
"Good boy," he said again. "I'll let it hang for a while. Tell me when you're ready to take the swing. Just nod your head."
I don't know how long it took me to adjust to the new weight, quite a while. He climbed up on to the bed, kneeling with his knees on either side of my hips. Just that movement in the mattress made the weight wobble, it was almost too much. He lent forward and starting kissing me on the cheeks again. My cock was pulled down past the vertical by the weight on my balls. I felt his very stiff dick brush against mine, he was very wet, very slippery with pre-cum. He slid his cock up the length of my body towards my throat.
"Now you know how good this makes me feel, I haven't been as hard since I was a teenager," he said. I doubt that it was true, but very flattering. He was waiting for me to nod, to signal that I was ready. After what we'd both said there was no way I could have left his apartment without at least trying to take the strain of a swinging twenty pound weight. Eventually I did get used to the strain. I nodded.
"Good boy..." he said climbing off the bed. "I know the pain is bad...but when it's in your balls it's beautiful too. Isn't it?"
"Yes Sir. It's beautiful Sir. I want it Sir."
He set the weight in motion very gently, just an inch or two of movement. I gasped. He let it swing like that for a while. I nodded again. He gave the weight a nudge. More of a wrench, more pain, but I knew I was going to take it now.
"Swing it!" I said. Then remembering my place as a bottom I hastily added, "Please Sir swing the weight Sir!"
I was just short of screaming point, quite unable to move a muscle or take a breath. While the weight was swinging backwards and forwards under the bed wrenching on my balls I smelled the hot wax again. He must have had the candle burning away all the time because in a moment a flood of molten wax smothered the head of my cock. I bucked violently which made the weight jerk, felt like my testicles had been ripped from my body. It was without doubt by far the worst pain I'd felt in my balls since I'd started down this crazy road. But it was fantastic!
With the weight still swinging he started to jerk on my cock. This added a new dimension to the pain as my balls were pulled around by the weight and bounced up and down by the movement of his hand. The wax flaked off my skin as his hand pumped my cock. He must have been jerking himself off at the same time because just seconds after my semen shot out I felt his hot juice landing on my chest and stomach.
He lifted the weight, removed the parachute. I gasped again, the pain was almost as bad as the blood rushed back into my strained balls. After that we lay together for the longest time on his bed. He told me over and over how good it had been for him as he smothered my whole body with kisses, very gently massaged oil into my scrotum. It really was beautiful.
I went back to his apartment many times over the coming months, would have gone back for years probably, but he lost his job in the city and relocated to Washington state. Believe it or not he had packers in and shipped the whole heap of stuff from New York to his new place. Must have cost a fortune. He tried to persuade me to go over there on a two day layover in Seattle, but he wasn't anywhere near the city, it was too risky to go that far out of town. Then some months later I had a three day layover in Seattle. I reckoned that it would give me time to go to his place and get back safely so I called. He was going to be away on vacation. Isn't life like that?