Her Revenge

She takes her revenge on me.  She is as slow, cruel and sadistic as 
can be.

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HER REVENGE.

You lead me into your house.  I'm that guy, that miserable bastard 
who made your life shit and caused you so much pain.  Well, tonight 
you have a suprise for me, although I don't know it yet.  You've 
been planning this for quite a while, but as far as I know you just 
want to make up with me, to put everything right and get us both 
back together again.

Everything starts so innocently.  You pour me a drink and make small 
talk for half an hour.  I listen and nod at the right places, 
content that the 'little woman' is finally seeing sense.  After a 
while you begin to flirt, letting the wine loosen the mood and then 
finally our clothing.  We end up on the floor by the fireplace, 
which is when you ask me if I could now, after everything, ever 
bring myself to forgive you and trust you again.  I reassure you 
with a few, pat phrases, and continue trying to undress you.  You 
stand up, looking concerned and hurt.  It's not that you don't 
believe me, you say, it's more that you need some kind of evidence 
of that trust, something concrete, something you can see and know is 
real.  Sure honey, I reply to you, just waiting for your request of 
a promise that I know I will break. I don't care anymore.  I just 
want to fuck you so I can sneer quietly the next time we meet 
somewhere public, knowing that you got me here so that you could 
grovel to me, knowing that I was right all this time.  I give you my 
best puppy-dog eyes and say - whatever you need, just tell me, and 
I'll do it for you.  You smile down at me and say - I knew you'd 
understand.  That's when you turn and walk away into the bedroom, 
coming back, after several minutes of silence, carrying that thin, 
strong belt in your hands.

You ask me if you can tie my hands behind my back.  You want to fuck 
me, to blow me, while I am prevented from touching you.  I agree, 
knowing only to well that you wouldn't dare play games with me.  You 
just don't have it in you.  It's hardly something that even crosses 
my mind.

You strip me to my shorts and tie my hands tightly behind my back.  
You then walk into the kitchen and come back with the utility 
scissors, the big ones with the sharp, 6 inch blades.  You kneel 
before me and I suddenly pull away.  Just what the hell are you 
doing, I demand of you?  Don't you know that you could kill me with 
those things, or cause some damage that I wouldn't like to think 
about?  You calm me down, saying that this was supposed to be an 
exercise in trust, remember, and that I should trust you and prove 
myself to you. I reluctantly allow myself to relax and watch, 
cautiously, as you slip the blades down the right leg of my shorts. 
 You began to cut along the seam until the fabric folds open, 
revealing my dick and balls.  You then gather up the cloth on the 
other side and cut down along that, too.  I am now standing naked 
before you, with my groin only inches from your face.  I can feel 
your breath, hot then cold, around the shaft of my penis, and I 
gently push forward as your hand begins to caress it and slip gently 
up and down it's length.

This goes on for several minutes.  I grow hard, then harder, under 
the pressure of your fingers.  My testicles begin to pull up into my 
body as the sensation within them begins to rise.  I start to make 
noises, small moans and exultation's, as I feel the orgasm building 
slowly.  Be careful I say, I'm near to cumming and I don't want to 
just yet.  You make a sound, I think it's a giggle of pleasure.  
Strange, you say, but I don't want you to cum either.  In fact, you 
continue, I don't think I want you to cum at all - not now, and not 
ever.  It is then that I feel the cold metal blades of the scissors 
touch on either side of my dick.  I freeze instantly, looking down 
in shock.  I can see my penis standing hard between the blades and a 
sudden, awfull sensation hits my stomach.  I gulp and look into your 
face.  You first smile up at me and then glance down at my manhood, 
squeezing slightly on the handgrip as you do so.  That makes me draw 
in my breath and you laugh out loud.  It seems to me that you better 
stay still, you say, or I might slip down here and cut your cock 
off.  I watch as you stand up and ease yourself around, still 
keeping the blades steady on my now flaccid organ.  Uhhmm, you say 
to yourself, lets see now, how much could a little thing like this 
take... and you begin to squeeze, first gently and then a lot 
harder, biting your lip and watching as you do so.

At first it feels as if my penis were being squeezed between your 
fingers.  The pressure is vague and indistinct.  As you apply more 
force I begin to sense the thinness of the blades, the rigid 
unrelenting metal and their sharpness along the edge.  With yet more 
pressure it begins to hurt, the blades starting to bite into the 
shaft as they compress it and squash it down.

P..p..please!, I beg.  S...s..stop!  Don't do it, please!

You smile and squeeze all the harder.  My dick feels like it is in a 
vice now, and I can see your fingers whitening against the black of 
the handle.

You pause, but keep the pressure on, bending and turning my cock as 
you examine it and grin at it's discomfort.  

Poor little thing, you say, is nasty B punishing it?  Would you like 
her to close the scissors and bring it's suffering to an end?

I say no and watch as you giggle.  I wonder why, you reply to me, 
and give me a wide innocent look.  With that your face becomes more 
serious.  A hard look replaces the smile.  Right, you say, now 
here's the deal.  I've got you just where I want you, and with a 
flick of my wrist you'll be rolling around on the carpet, without a 
penis and feeling a whole hell of a lot worse than you do now.  To 
emphasise the point you squeeze even harder, almost cutting my dick 
off and making me bend double with the pain.  So here's what I want 
you to do, you tell me.  I want you to take a punishment from me, 
just to show how sorry you are.  If you take it well, and don't piss 
me off by screaming and begging for me to stop, I might let you keep 
this little item hanging between your legs.  But I warn you, if you 
DO piss me off, then I will cut it off you, glans first, and watch 
as you grovel at my feet begging me to spare your balls.  Do you 
understand?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND???  You squeeze now so hard that for 
a moment I think my dick is gone.  My breath catches in my throat 
and I manage to gasp yes, please don't, before you suddenly release 
me and I stagger backward, tripping myself onto the floor.

In a moment you are on me.  One bare, slender knee is brought down, 
with all your body weight, onto my naked, vulnerable genitals.  The 
pain is so bad that I try to curl up and close my legs on it, hard 
enough to make it stop and release the spasms that are hammering in 
my stomach.  You roll me over and pull down my legs.  I feel a cord 
being pulled around one of them as it is stretched tight.  Then my 
other leg is bound and yanked away from me.  They are stretched 
apart as you fasten them to the iron guard at the fireplace.  I 
cannot move my hands and you stand over me, breathing hard as you 
look down.  I am still writhing from your knee and the agony that it 
has brought to my sex parts.  You check my bonds and nod to 
yourself, walking out of my field of vision as I recover from the 
pain.

When you come back you are carrying various shoes from your wardrobe 
in the bedroom.  You drop them down in the space between my legs and 
I notice that amongst them are the black, 4inch patent leather heels 
that I always said you looked so good in.  You notice me looking at 
them and pick one up, a wicked smile on your face.  You always liked 
me in these, didn't you, you ask me and then put it on back on the 
floor.  Well I wonder how much you'll still like me in them later?  
I look up at your imploringly but you just flash me a grin and kick 
my legs wider apart.

You stand between my legs, just in front of my aching genitals.  I 
can see that you are barefoot, and ready to do something.

Let's begin, you say, by playing a game where I go for a little walk 
on your private parts.  The rules are simple, remember?  No begging, 
no screaming - unless I hurt you very much, in which case I will 
decide if the pain was enough to cause you to cry out, or whether 
you were just disrespecting me.  And you don't want to do that, do 
you?  Not seeing as your 'cock's on the block'.  

You smile again and place one foot on my male parts.

Ready, you say.

You stand up slowly until your full weight is on my balls and dick. 
 Your left foot is held a little behind you, and your right is up on 
tiptoe in my groin.  My balls squash under your toes.  My dick is 
wrenched down between my legs.  The feeling is solid and intense, 
and the pain that follows it is deep and unrelenting.  I try not to 
cry out as you slowly put down your other foot and stand, more 
widely, on my testicles.  You start to tread, up and down, bending 
my cock and balls into contorted shapes as you raise and lower each 
foot, not caring as to the effect it is having on the sensitive 
parts beneath them.  You step back onto the floor and suddenly step 
on them again.  This time I breathe in hard and you furrow your 
brow.  Naughty, naughty, you say, we don't want any of that, do we? 
 You step on the floor and repeat the motion again, only harder this 
time.  It is almost as if you have jumped on my balls and I arch my 
back in silent agony.  I think you see how much that hurts and so 
you do it again and again.  It increases in force until you are 
actually landing on them from the air.  I cannot think straight.  
Each impact is like having my balls hit with a sledgehammer.  It 
goes on and on, smashing my testicles up into my abdomen, until you 
stop and leave me silently screaming on the floor.  Then you step 
back and open your own legs wider between my own.  This is the 
special one, you say, my special little treat for you.  Take a deep 
breath and count to three.

I wait, staring down as you ready yourself.

One, you say...

...two...

...THREE...

You jump suddenly up and bring your feet together.  They land on my 
tortured cock and balls with a heavy thud.  I cannot help myself but 
scream as the pain hits me like a truck.  I feel as if you have 
gelded me, and the roar escape my lips before I can stop it.  For a 
moment or two everything seems to fade away, and when I regain the 
room I find you kneeling between my legs with the scissors ready.  
You have my dick hanging limply through the V of the blades.

You are a very unruly prisoner, convict 636, you say to me, and we 
all know what happens to unruly prisoners, don't we?

But please, I stammer, you hurt me so bad.

That is for me to decide, you say, and I don't think that hurt 
nearly enough to warrent such an exhibition.  I was only in my 
barefeet.  What would you have done if I'd jumped on them in my high 
heels? 

You open the blades really wide.  No, you say, I'm sorry, but for 
that performance this thing has to go.  

I can only watch, my mouth opening in horror, as you count down from 
three to one again.  On the fall of the last number you snap down 
hard.  My head goes back as the pain cramps my manhood and causes me 
to shout NO!!!

After a moment I slowly look down.

My dick is still there and you have your hand over your mouth, 
laughing.  

You didn't do it but you almost did, you could have, and you 
wouldn't have cared if you had.

You stand up, putting the shears back on the side where I can see 
them.  Are you ready to start again, you ask me.  I nod, terrified, 
as you slip on your sneakers.  Well let's start, then, you say, and 
the pain begins again.

It goes on and it goes on.  I don't know how long for but after what 
seems to be an eternity you stand over me holding the black high 
heels.  It's time for your favourites, you grin down at me.  I'm 
sure this punishment won't be one you forget in a hurry.


I thought that pain could not get any worse down there, but I was 
wrong.  You stand slowly on my penis with your heel, spiking on the 
glans as the pressure increases.  My cock slips out from under your 
heel, allowing your weight to drop onto my balls, stabbing one with 
the metal crowned tip.  ARRGGHH...arrhh, I cannot help myself but 
cry.  This time you smile at me, watching my writhe as you add the 
other spike to my testicles.   You can beg a little now, you say, as 
I imagine this punishment hurts slightly more than the others.

You begin to walk up and down, sending each thin, cruel heel into my 
balls with increasing sadistic force.  I am not sure if I can feel 
these separate attacks anymore as everything is just a solid wall of 
unimaginable, bright red agony.  You no longer seem to care if I can 
feel it or I can't.  You stamp on my delicate and vulnerable sex 
organs as if you meant to rip them off with each jab and twist of 
your feet.  Finally you step off me and leave me moaning and 
pleading before you, repeating the one phrase over and over - 
please, it hurts, please, have mercy.  You do not have any.  You 
draw back your foot and kick my balls as hard as you can.  Even tied 
like this I almost pull my knees together with the force of it.  You 
do it again.  And again. Finally I can only watch as you kick my 
testicles to ruin.  You stamp on them and kick them until I am left, 
beyond even the ability to scream, with my balls broken between my 
legs.  As a final triumphant moment of victory you spread your legs 
again and jump, this time with those cruel, hard, incredibly 
torturous heels, right onto my dick and balls. I scream once then 
pass out, the world falling to blackness all around me.

When I awake it is dark.  I think you are sleeping somewhere near me 
but then I realise you are only waiting for me to stir.

You cross to me and take my balls into your hand in the darkness.

I've ruined you, I've destroyed you and I've done another thing to 
you as well, you whisper to me.  Do you know what that is?  Can you 
guess?

No, I whisper, my throat dry and my lips cracked.

I've lied to you, you say, and suddenly twist my balls and crush 
them in your hand, squeezing until they pop between your fingers.  I 
begin to scream again, but this time not in pain, this time not only 
just in pain, for I can see the scissors in your hand and I know 
what you will do with them.  I see them flash in the half-light and 
hear one, two and then three sharp clips in the darkness.  You step 
back laughing as I gasp in shock and then something like pure agony.

I know what you have done to me.

And I know your revenge is complete.