Vincent and I had talked at great length on the phone before that first meeting, and we talked a great deal more lying on his bed after the beating, but even so I just had to write to him next day to tell him all over again how good it had been for me. After that first meeting I always tried to let him know when I was going to be in NYC. We corresponded regularly, and although weeks would go by between our meetings, he had vacations and other commitments too, I knew that he enjoyed our sessions as much as I did. The scene always started the same way, me kneeling naked in his lobby wearing only the things he'd left out for me. The broad, studded slave collar was always waiting, and I know it sounds narcissistic, but I must admit I really liked what I saw in the mirror when I was wearing it. I guess we were not so much Master & slave as two halves of a pair, Vincent needed to inflict pain, I needed to take it. We wrote frequently, neither of us pretended to be exclusive, I told him about other men, and women too, he told me about other bottoms he'd beaten since we last met.
As I said our meetings started the same way, he'd work on my balls from behind as I knelt with my knees spread wide, then he'd come around in front of me and I'd suck on his balls and work my tongue around and up behind his sac as far as I could reach. His cock with its magnificent head was constantly brushing against my nose and cheeks, I wanted to take it, to suck it too, but it was out of bounds now. He always worked some variation during the torture. The weight of lead shot in the leather bag which he made me swing was increased with each visit, first to ten pounds, then gradually up to fifteen. It doesn't sound like any great load perhaps, and if it were just hanging from my balls it wouldn't have caused any stress to speak of. But once fifteen pounds is swinging wildly between your legs it can really wrench the balls in all directions. Added to that strain there was the pain of the jabs when Vincent used the cue to poke at the trapped nuts. After the first few visits he always used the pointed end which did concentrate the mind wonderfully! He'd always give me a really good whipping too, concentrating on my cock and balls with the cat and on my hole with the whip. But the crescendo was always the same, me spread-eagled on his bed as he concentrated solely on my testicles. I came to think of this bed as an altar, my balls were the sacrificial offering. On my third or fourth visit when it came time to climb up on the altar, I discovered he had laid a firm bolster across the bed so that my ass was way up high. It really was just incredibly exciting waiting for the whipping to start, my ass held up seven or eight inches, my cock and balls, the most private and sensitive parts of my body, fully exposed. I don't know how hard he swung the whips and cats, not as hard as it felt I suspect, but it sure did sting. Before he released my limbs for the finale my penis and scrotum felt raw, my ass glowed red, and the sphincter burned like a hot ember had been used on it. The final act too became more painful and exciting as time went on. When I first started going to Vincent when he judged that it was time for me to come he would release one hand so that I could jerk off as he beat on my testicles. But I had always wanted to be beaten to ejaculation, I mean from way back I had wanted this. The guy in the baths had brought me off just by ball torture, he hadn't touched my cock, nor had I, the juice just flowed out in a steady stream. In fact all the men who had worked on me since then had assumed that I needed to be able to jerk off to come. After several visits I wrote to Vincent asking him not to release my arm, but to beat on my balls until I came without touching my cock. In his reply he was guarded, said that he'd love to see me come that way, but thought that it might be too much of a beating. At our next meeting he again released one hand, I was slightly disappointed, but of course it wasn't long before I shot my load. But this was something I really wanted to try so I kept writing, kept pleading with him to agree to do it. After about the fifth or sixth time I asked I got a letter, he agreed. My pulse rate leaped even though I wasn't scheduled to visit the city in the current roster which had most of a month to run. This was too long to wait. I got on the phone to another pilot for whom I'd done a few favours in the past. I told him that I had an urgent need to get to NYC. Since he had asked me to swap duties when he wanted to screw one of the stewardesses he naturally assumed that I want the same and readily agreed. I'd love to know what he'd have thought, and if he'd have swapped, if he'd known that I was going to meet a man who was going to torture my cock and balls!
When I got into town I called Vincent. He didn't mention the letter he'd sent. After a few minutes I just had to know for sure. I reminded him of what he'd said in his letter and asked if he would do it this time. "You're sure you want this boy?" "Yes Sir, I'm sure." "Well then boy," he said, "I'll do it." Wow, it was going to happen! Most nights I didn't want to get to the finale, just wanted the pain to go on and on. That night I was only too happy when Vincent turned me over. I rather expected him to ask again if I was sure, but he didn't. He put me through pure agony until I was in ecstasy. When I was really on a high he put a gag in my mouth, then he tightened up the restraints so that my body was stretched out like a bow string. I knew what it meant. He used the Nutcracker, not too hard at first, but steadily the hitting grew harder and harder. While he'd been tightening up the chains and putting the gag in my mouth I'd slipped back into reality so the pain in my balls increased enormously. For a while I was in real agony. Even though I was tightly bound I still could move my hips slightly, maybe an inch or so from side to side. I tried to hold still, but the pain had come on so fast that I was pulling my balls up instead of letting them hang loose and that was making things worse again. But there was no way of stopping the beating, we had never had a safety signal and I couldn't ask him to ease up. Then, out of the pain came the thought that I was getting what I'd asked for, what I'd dreamed about, what I craved, and that thought did it for me. Suddenly I was through the pain barrier, I was able to offer my balls to my Master for sacrifice. When Vincent saw this change he really went to work on them. He hit and hit and hit. On the sides, on the front, on that exquisitely sensitive spot at the back. He struck far harder than any man had ever hit them before. When I came he kept hitting, and I wanted him to keep on hitting too! By the time he stopped there was cum all over the place, on my face, my body, the bed, and on Vincent too. After he released me we took a long shower together, then we talked for the longest time lying naked on his bed. When I eventually did leave I walked back to the hotel. I expected my balls to ache as I walked, wanted them to ache so as to remind me of the beating I'd taken, but they didn't. In fact they felt absolutely normal, even when I reached down and squeezed them they were no more sensitive than usual. I guess it meant that they were fit for beatings they were getting. One night as I sucked on his balls in the lobby I was surprised to find that he'd shaved off his pubic hair. By this time I should say I had removed all the hair from my scrotum, right back to my ass hole, up the sides to my thighs, everything south of my cock. My wife had never made any comment, she seemed to like the way I looked and felt so a hairless scrotum became part of my body image. I'd got over the fear of what the doctors would think when I had physicals. I had realized that the only thing that could be a problem was high blood pressure. However, if I let them see what they saw, and didn't let it worry me, then my blood pressure wouldn't be high. But to get back to Vincent's shaved balls... Shaving doesn't produce the silky softness that plucking does, but I was pleasantly surprised and made appreciative noises. "You like them Boy," he asked. "Yes Sir," I said, "I like them very much indeed." "Suck on them good...Suck hard..." I went to work and could hear his appreciative noises. During the next couple of hours he gave me a good beating and much later when we were lying on his bed together he asked again if I'd liked the way his balls felt. I assured him that I really did like the feel of them, and as I spoke I reached out to fondle them some more. To my surprise his sac wasn't shaved! "So there was another man?" I asked rhetorically. "You couldn't tell?" He was surprised that I'd been fooled. "No," I assured him, "I had no idea. Who was he? Was he here all the time... ? Is he here now?" Vincent just chuckled. "A little mystery is no bad thing," he said. I never found out any more about the other man. Was he a top? Another bottom? Or just a voyeur? Was he there from time to time? Always? Vincent never told me. "A little mystery..." was all he'd say. Another night as we lay together after a long, hard session I was gently fondling Vincent's lovely cock, the head was still magnificent even when it was flaccid, and on an impulse I asked him if I could suck on it one day. I knew that he liked the idea because his penis immediately stirred strongly in my fingers. However there was the problem of AIDS. Naturally it was one of the subjects that we discussed on several occasions as we lay in bed together. He wasn't worried because it was many years since he'd had unprotected sex, and since he had been into S&M as a top for many years it was a very long time since he had been exposed to semen or other body fluids. I had already told him about the good times I'd had in the baths, but this had been before AIDS had appeared in the city, at least it hadn't been identified although it was probably there. As I continued to fondle his cock it stiffened up into a full erection. This was the first time I had seen him aroused because I was normally blindfolded until I'd come by which time he'd come too, so I only saw his cock after it had softened. This night it was soon looking as good as it felt against my cheek when I sucked on his balls. It wasn't especially long, no more than six inches, but the head was as big as I'd imagined it to be! Like a massive purple mushroom, I wanted to suck it into my mouth right there and then, but I didn't want to cause problems for either of us. Vincent wanted it as much as I did, I could see it, pre-cum began to ooze, but he didn't want to add risk to our situation either. He started to say something...then stopped. I asked if he wanted me to stop. "No boy, I want you to suck it...but you mustn't. We can't be sure..." I ruefully agreed. "Of course we could..." he said, then stopped again. "Could what?" I hoped he wasn't going to say put a rubber on. A penis is meant to be tasted, , its texture appreciated, the slipperiness of the precum savoured on the tongue, none of this is possible when it's sheathed in rubber. "We could take the test..." It was a tentative suggestion. He told me later he wasn't sure if I'd be insulted, or turned off. I still had his penis in my hand, it was really slippery by now. I wasn't put off. "If we're both negative, and we take no chances with any other men we could enjoy what we both want." It was the answer as far as I was concerned. I looked at the penis with renewed interest, I just knew that it was going to taste as good as it looked. We went to his doctor the next day and he set up the test appointment in a private clinic. The results were sent to Vincent's address and he kept both envelopes sealed. We met for a meal a few weeks later, he brought out the reports. There was a certain tension, no denying it, then enormous relief. That night we went back to his apartment and for the first time sucked each other off, and that was before he started to beat my balls! After this Vincent continued to work my balls when I was kneeling in the lobby, but when he moved around the front he'd let me have his cockhead as well as his balls. I say cockhead because it filled my mouth, couldn't get more than an inch or so of the shaft even after a lot of practice! One night towards the end of our session, when he'd whipped my ass and balls, instead of re-securing me he helped me up and left me standing at the foot of the bed. I was still blindfolded as I always was, but I could hear sounds of movement which I assumed was Vincent rearranging something on the bed. As I waited I had no idea as to what he was going to do next. After a minute or so I felt his cock between the cheeks of my ass. I spread them to let him in. Was he going to fuck me standing up, I wondered. Then he whipped off the blindfold. To my surprise there was another man lying face down, spread-eagled, his hips on the bolster, ass lifted up. His skin was firm, well muscled, I guessed he was young, but from behind I couldn't really tell. I noticed that his cock wasn't visible, it was safely under his body, but he couldn't hide his balls and they were hanging low between his legs. Vincent moved from behind me and made a gesture with his finger on his lips, stay silent. Then he raised the cat and struck right on the testicles. It was a good, hard hit. I saw the young man stiffen as he drew in a sharp breath. Before he could get a second the cat struck again, and again. This looked so good, I could see the colour of the scrotum change from pink to red to purple in seconds. The sound of the cat was exactly what I heard when Vincent was whipping me so I guess that this is what he saw as he struck at my genitals, only my cock was in the firing line as well! After the first three strokes Vincent turned to me and using gestures told me to reach for the young guy's penis and pull it out. I didn't hesitate. He had no pubic hair, completely clean. I could tell that it hadn't been shaved off because with shaving there is a certain roughness, a stubble, no matter how carefully it is done. His body was smooth as a baby's butt so I guess he'd used electrolysis. He was hard of course and his cock didn't want to bend when I took a hold of it to pull it out from under his body. He lifted his hips as far as he could, not much, and I had to twist his cock sideways and down past his hip bone. He had a fine penis, long and slim, and when it was down between his legs it stuck out way past his sac of balls. As soon as I stepped back Vincent struck. Twenty or more strokes right on the penis soon had the young man twisting and moaning, but the precum was flying by the time Vincent gave him a break. After the whipping I wanted to see him when he was turned over, wanted to see his face, and get a good look at his cock and balls, but to my dismay Vincent pulled the blindfold down over my eyes. I was still standing at the bottom of the bed and could hear what was going on. I wondered if Vincent was going to turn him over to work on his cock and balls. I tried very hard to steal a glimpse of his body, couldn't see a thing. Vincent materialized at my back and guided me back to the bed, face up for ball torture. I wondered if the stranger was now standing at the foot of the bed, and if so was he being allowed to watch or was he blindfolded? Having watched the guy being whipped I was more than ready for torture, I think I was probably through the barrier before the pain started. We were well matched as always, Vincent didn't spare me, and I held up my testicles for everything he wanted to inflict. After coming Vincent normally lay down beside me. He'd spread the jism all over our bodies as we talked, then after quite a while we'd get up and take a shower together. This night was different. He released me and helped me up and guided me to stand at the foot of the bed again. With the blindfold still on I heard the other guy being secured. Shortly after that I heard the gasping, sharp intakes and even sharper exhalations, quiet groans, louder groans, and occasionally "Oh God!...Oh Sir... Please Sir No...No please Sir, I can't take any more!" It had never struck me before, but the actual sounds of ball torture are virtually inaudible. A paddle you can hear, but even a severe paddling doesn't make a lot of noise compared to the sounds coming from the victim of ball torture. It was a terrific turn on to know that this young guy, I only assumed he was young, was taking a beating within inches of where I stood even though I couldn't see him suffer. It was very easy to tell when he came, a throaty roar followed by a gurgling, strangled cry until the torture stopped. Then, for a while there was silence. Eventually I sensed that he was being released and taken from the room. Now Vincent was at my side, he pulled off the blindfold, we were alone. Again we showered, we lay on his bed, we talked. Of course I wanted to know all about the other guy. "Did you like what you saw?" Vincent asked. "Yes," I said, "but I didn't see his face, nor what you did to his cock and balls." "Well a little mystery adds spice," he said. Even though I probed I didn't find out who he was, nor how old he was. What he did tell me was that the guy was into whipping and for a long time had wanted to try ball torture, but didn't have the nerve to let it happen. So Vincent had suggested that he come for a whipping, then stay to see how I reacted to ball torture. "So he was watching" I asked. "Oh yes, and he liked what he saw so much that he agreed to let me work on his nuts." "I'd have liked to see him take it too." "A little mystery..." he repeated. Then added, "But his body is not as beautiful as yours. And he'll never take a beating as well as you do." That gave me a real thrill.
Another thing Vincent would do from time to time was to wrap an elastic bandage tightly around my cock and balls. Have you ever had this done? Starting at the base of the shaft he'd wrap tightly around the neck of the sac to trap the testicles, and then wind the bandage around and around, binding the nuts tightly to the penis as he worked his way up the shaft. With the elastic in the bandage trying to tighten up still further my balls would be squeezed to the limit when the bandage reached my cockhead. Even then he didn't stop, kept winding around and around. By the time he reached the end of the bandage my testicles were under tremendous pressure. Each time my cock flexed the pressure was increased still further sending a wave of pain flooding up into my guts. I wouldn't have believed it possible to produce so much pain and pleasure so simply. And because it wasn't produced by any impact, or indeed by another person, it was absolutely pure testicular pain flowing from both balls at the same time. I could have lain there without flexing my cock and just suffered the ache, but the extra pain was just too delicious, wonderful, glorious, I flexed until I was weak! As I said we were not able to meet every time I was in the city but we did get it on many times. One day however Vincent warned me that he was due for a sabbatical from work and would be away in Europe for about four months. Not good news, nor did he sound too enthusiastic. Because of the way my roster panned out we didn't meet for nearly six months. Neither of us pretended that we'd be celibate, we both needed sex too much for that, but we both agreed to stick strictly to safe sex while he was away. He was going to be in Europe so I was able to give him some pointers as to what to expect in London, and in Rome, I studied the listing from the Ball Club and the personals in the S&M magazines.
What I found is the next chapter...