The List 24: Its Head is for Being Stuffed in a Bag

Click here to start with Part 1

Previously: He moaned and leaned closer to her, and she bit down on his ear playfully. “I can’t believe I let something as disgusting as you near my cunt. As a matter of fact, I think it’s time your head went into the bag.”

He was lying on the floor on his side, breathing hard. His knees slightly pulled up towards his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his chest.

One black boot pushed him over on his back, and she grinned down at him. “Time for your head to go in the bag boy.” She kicked his legs down straight and squatted down beside him. “I’d hate to make it too easy for you though.” A short length of rope wrapped around his ankles, pulling them together and cinching down tight against his skin. “Now, for your motivation. This should get you moving.”

He groaned as her hand started massaging cream into his balls and along his cock. His eyes clamped shut and he shuddered as he felt the muscle cream start to heat up on his cock and balls.

“Come on, head in the bag.”

He opened his eyes and looked around until he saw her, dangling the empty pillowcase between her hands, the opening towards him. He forced himself to roll over onto his stomach, and shoved himself up onto his hands and knees. His body sank and drool ran from his mouth to the carpet as the heat started to pour into his genitals, and he forced himself to inch towards her.

She stepped back as he moved forward, teasing him with the empty bag. “Get your head in the bag and I’ll try to wash some of that off.” She took another step back as he inched forward. “Of course, it sinks into your skin, so the longer you take the less good that will do.” He shoved himself forward with a groan, and she stepped back with a grin.

He dragged himself through the house, his whole body feeling like a massive bruise. Pain and contusions raced from one muscle to another, trying to get his attention. Little bursts of endorphins floated through his consciousness as his tears started to run down his cheeks from the pain of dragging himself across the floor and the burning in his groin.

She led him through the house, breathing a little harder as he dragged himself across the floor, memorizing the flickers of pain that rushed across his face for later. The clenched teeth as he he pushed forward with his knees, the twitch at the corner of his eye as he walked his hands forward one at a time. The way his arms moved and the muscles warping the skin of his biceps.

His head slumped as he stopped moving. He pushed his thighs together against his cock and balls, trying to do anything to stop the burning. Sounds gurgled in his throat as the heat remained, the sudden pressure doing nothing to stop it. He forced himself not to just fall down, spit on his hands, and frantically rub them on his cock. He knew from past experience that it wouldn’t do any good.

She smiled and let him rest for a minute, then made him clicking sounds with her tongue until he looked up at her through tear stained eyes. She jiggled the pillow case in front of him, then took another step backwards.

He made a sniffing sound, trying to stop the snot running out his nose, and forced himself to put one hand forward, then the other, then pull his knees across the floor towards her. He tried to ignore the pain and focus on the three simple, repetitive motions, and not think of anything else.

She led him through the house, forcing him to drag his body along the floor behind her. They wound through the bedroom, out into the living room, across the pantry and into the garage. She could hear him whimper a little as he crossed the metal door threshold and his palms hit the cold concrete. He dragged himself to the back of the car, and she popped the trunk lid on the car.

“Get in, and I’ll put your head in the bag.”

He pushed himself to his knees, and held onto the bumper as he pulled himself to his feet. He hopped around in an awkward circle and sat back, swinging his legs into the trunk and curling up in the enclosed space.

“Good for you.” She moved his hands behind his back, and cuffed one wrist then the other, chaining his hands behind his body. “You’ve managed to convince me to abduct you.” The pillow case finally went over his head, and he sighed in the enclosing darkness. He could feel the tape securing the bottom of the pillow case to his neck, pulling it down tight and sealing him in the darkness.

The trunk lid slammed close, and she walked around the car to the front. Her purse hit the passenger’s seat with a thump, and she hit the garage door opener as she started the car. They pulled out of the garage, down the drive, and onto the street. She hit play on the CD player and started driving, thinking about what she was going to do next.

Preview: Hair is for being pulled. Pulllllllllllllllled.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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The List 12: Hands are for Being Restrained

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From Part 11: She locked eyes with him, her chest heaving from her breaths, her face froze in an animal snarl. “Remind me, what are your hands for?”

His voice was a muted whimper. “For being restrained, ma’am.”

She nodded, and her lips curled into a rictus grin. “Then lets get some use out of them, shall we?”

She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, frog marching him over to the dresser. She reached around him and dragged the drawer open, letting it smack against his legs. Her eyes panned over the contents, grabbing the first usable thing she saw: nickel-played handcuffs.

She yanked his hands behind him, ratcheting one cut onto his wrist, then the other. “That’s what they’re for, right? Being restrained?”

“Yes ma’am.” He stumbled to the center of the room as she used the cuffs to spin him around and fling him that direction. He recovered his balance and stood there, breathing hard, licking his lips, and watching her with wide eyes.

She walked back to him with long, urgent strides, and kicked the backs of his calves until he crumpled to his knees. She shifted her balance and planted her foot between his shoulder blades, then gave him a shove.

His face smacked into the carpet and he lay on his stomach, trying to see her from the corner of his eyes. Her foot found its way back to the spot between his shoulder blades. He felt the pressure increase on his body.

“So the question that’s really on my mind is, now that your hands are restrained, how are you going to get me off?”

He turned his head and spit carpet fiber off his lips, then took a deep breath. “With my tongue, ma’am.”

She nodded and arched an eyebrow. “Really? How you gonna do that with your face all the way down there?”

He tried to roll over, but she dropped her weight and kept him pinned to the floor. He tried to scoot his knees up under himself so he could lever himself to his knees, but pushed down harder until he gave up. He tried twisting to roll over again, and the pressure increased again.

“You want me to cut your tongue out and use it like a dildo? Was that you meant?”

He clenched his jaw in frustration. “No ma’am, please don’t cut my tongue out.” He tried to roll over again, and again she pinned his body to the floor. “I can’t get up with your foot on my back.”

“Oh, is that the problem?” She let out a fake giggle, and stepped off his body. “Silly me.”

He shoved his knees under his body, and was starting to lever himself up when her foot collided with his balls. His body spasmed and he was on the floor again, gasping in pain and blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Well?” Her voice cut through the pain and he forced himself to roll over. He was still on his back, gasping, when her foot clipped his balls again.

He felt bile and vomit rise up in his throat and swallowed them back down, trying to ignore the horrible ache in his stomach as his balls throbbed.

“Looks like you can’t do much about protecting your balls without your hands either.” She let her foot hover over him as he curled up into a ball on his side, trying to protect his aching testicles with his legs.

“Well?” The inquisitive tone forced him to think again, and he groaned in pain and frustration. “I don’t know how to get you off ma’am.”

She kicked him in the ass, letting the toes of her foot bounce off the heavy muscles there. “So you see the problem? Before you say your hands are for being restrained, you better think about how you’re going to get me off with your hands restrained.”

He nodded, his cheek scraping against the carpet, and looked up at her from the corner of his eye. “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.”

She shoved with her foot, rolling him back on his stomach. He braced himself for another thudding shock of pain to come from a kick to his balls, and shuddered in relief when he felt her weight settle on his lower legs instead.

He moaned and started to tremble when he felt her teeth sink into the soft skin of his fingertips. He forced himself not to jerk his hands away as her jaw bit down and the pressure increased.

She imagined herself devouring him, eating his body inch by inch, chewing until blood erupted from his skin and meat slid off his bones. Owning his body utterly and completely. Her muscles started to tremble with lust, and she took a deep breath and licked her lips. “Your only purpose is to get me off, and if you a part of your body can’t do that, I don’t see any reason for you to have it anymore. Understood?”

Her teeth sank back into his fingertips, and his arms jerked. “Yes ma’am, I understand.”

She clamped her hands around his wrists, just above the cuffs, and worked her way from fingertip to fingertip, feeling his body try not to twist and jerk beneath her, a steady pleasure building inside her, then spiking when he lost control and his muscles spasmed.

She pictured his eyes rolling up back in his head, and breathed slowly and deeply, enjoying the perfect control she had over him. His pain and whimpers, the taste and feel of his controlled body, knowing part if him couldn’t live without being treated like this. Knowing that part of him would be hollow without her filling that empty aching place with her pleasure in his pain and degradation.

She let the smallest finger on his left hand slide out of her mouth, and lifted her weight just enough to roll him over. She crawled up his body until her face was hovering inches above his own. He felt her weight on his body, her breath on his face, and slowly opened his eyes.

She grinned down at him, and licked her lips with exaggerated sensuality. “Now, about your stomach.”

Preview: Stomachs are for having degrading words written on! Like shovel, and bulldozer. Or not…

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

The List 10: Balls Are for Being Tortured

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From part 9: “Oh, and open your eyes. Next we’re going to do something about those balls of yours, and I want you to see it.”

He opened his eyes to see her walking by him, and watched her ass as she shrugged into a robe. He blinked and walked into the kitchen, putting ice in a glass and adding tap water. He took a long drink, then filled it again and walked back into the bedroom.

She was sitting in a chair in front of the bed, sliding a thumb down the screen of her phone. “Sit, and lean back.” She waved her phone at the bed.

He passed her the water and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her, leaning back. She sipped on the water, then sat it on the floor beside her. “Put a pillow under your head. You like to watch, don’t you?”

He dragged a pillow down from the head of the bed, and doubled it over, positioning it under his head. She grinned at him down the length of his body as he licked his lips and tensed his shoulders.

“I think we’ll start with getting everything nicely into position.” She picked chopsticks up from beside her leg on the chair, and placed one on either side of his balls. She pulled his balls up, and used rubber bands to secure the chopsticks. His testicles were trapped on the other side of the chopsticks, and she used them to raise and lower his balls.

She giggled, and lifted them up as far as they would go. “Put your legs together.” He slid his legs together, and she let the chopsticks fall. They hit his legs, holding his balls up and out, keeping them from retreating between his legs.

“And I think we’re ready to start.” She teased a third chopstick, running her fingers along it, then casually jabbed the point into his testicle. He jumped at the sharp, piercing pain in the sensitive flesh, and she casually poked the pointed end into his other ball.

He jumped again, and she licked her lips and leaned in closer. “Oh, I’m really going to enjoy this.” She alternated, poking one then the other, watching his body jerk involuntarily, controlling him like a puppet. Her slim fingers jabbed the end into his testicle, the nerves sending the signal up to his brain and forcing his body to contort and twist itself.

“I have some bamboo skewers in the kitchen.” She jabbed the end of the chopstick into one of his balls. “They’re much sharper.” The end stabbed into his other ball and his body jerked the other way. “I bet I could just push them right through, and roast these.” She jabbed him again between his gasps of pain, and paused to look up at his clenched teeth. “You could have them for dinner. Would you like that?”

He whimpered and forced his brain to turn his thoughts into words. “Please don’t feed me my testicles ma’am.”

She stabbed him again, a quick series of light jabs that forced his breath in and out of his lungs in short, shuddering gasps. “I suppose, since I’ve already thawed something else out.” She casually worked her way around the tight orbs, pushing from side to side and jabbing them in an irregular pattern. “And really, all that hair, I’d have to remove it or the kitchen would smell awful.”

She smiled, and hummed to herself. “Hm, there’s a thought. Stay.”

He blinked tears out of his eyes as she walked across the room, and came back with duct tape. “Boys just don’t take care of themselves.”

Sweat formed on his body as she arched an eyebrow and slowly pulled a piece of tape off. The adhesive hissed as it pulled apart, and she carefully folded one end of the tape over on itself, then placed it on his balls. She watched his eyes as she smoothed it carefully with her fingers, pressing it down on the flesh.

He gripped the covers of the bed in tight fists as she teased him, lifting the tape slowly, pulling his balls upwards, dragging them away from his body until the tape just started to separate, then lowering them back down to his body. She watched him twitch as she dragged them around with her fingers, her eyes getting narrow as she watched his hands clench. “It’s the anticipation, isn’t it, that really sucks?”

He started to nod as she jerked her hand up, ripping the tape. He breathed out in a shuddering rush, and his eyes rolled up in his head. She laughed and leaned in closer. “Well, at least the anticipation is over.” She leaned back and put one hand over her heart. “Because I am a kind and considerate ma’am.”

Her lip curled as she looked at the hair stuck to the tape. “Ugh, that is just awful.” She lifted his balls up and looked them over, pushing the bright red flesh from side to side. “And it didn’t even take all of the hair off.” Her tongue made a disapproving noise against the back of her teeth. “And I missed a spot.” She looked at him and shook her head. “You look like you have mange. Oh well, plenty of tape.”

She leaned back and peeled another piece off, taking her time, her eyes staying on his face as she worked it down against his flesh. She didn’t speak this time, just ripped it off, yanking hair out and sighing at the sight of his thrashing body. She did it again, pulling out more hair, drinking in the sights and sounds, trying to memorize them for later. Every muscle, every bead of sweat, every sound of breath.

She finally leaned back, and licked her lips. A piece of tape hung between her fingertips, and she dangled it in front of him. “Now, I’ve taken care of it this time, but I don’t plan on making your ball hair a priority in my life.” He looked at her through bleary eyes as she arched an eyebrow at him. “So you’re going to do this one, to show me how much you’ve learned about hygiene.”

The sound of his whimper made something throb deep inside her, and her breath quickened as he wordlessly sat up. She could see the fuzziness in his eyes, how his thoughts were cloudy and floaty. He still made the little sounds of a person in pain, but his mind was a mile away.

She smiled and nodded encouragement as he folded over the end of the tape, and began working it against his skin. He pressed down carefully, kneading his fingers across the gray surface, holding it against his skin until he moved on. When it finally covered his stinging, reddened balls, he swallowed hard and looked at her for approval.

She nodded. “Do it. Pull if off your fucking balls for me.”

His hand jerked and he fell back on the bed, a piece of gleaming tape in his hands, his balls pulled away from his body, his legs jerking as the nerves crashed into his brain.

She sighed and leaned back. “Good boy. I wonder how quickly that hair will grow back? In the mean time…”

Preview: Fingers are for messaging! Wait, no massaging! I meant massaging.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Strength Training

She grinned at him. “That’s going to cost you.”

He grinned back. “I enjoy making the payments. Usually.”

“Hm.” She stretched, and looked at the ceiling through half closed eyes. Her breath quickened a little, and she licked her lips. “I have some ideas, but let me think about it. I definitely have some ideas.”

She thought about it all day, little fragments of a scene coming to her. She’d turn them over in her imagination, see if they made her pulse rise, if her thighs twitched, if she could ignore the banal meetings and chit-chat around her while they occupied her thoughts.

By the time she was driving home, she knew what she wanted.

She kicked her shoes off and got a glass of water, then took a couple of slow swallows. She followed the trail of discarded shoes and socks to the living room, where he was sitting on the couch. “You, naked, now.”

He looked up, then smiled, and started to pull his shirt off. She paused a moment to leer as his chest appeared, then walked into the bedroom. Her necklace went on the nightstand, and her clothes made a neat pile on the bed. She pulled her vibrator out of a drawer and got a wide bandage off the top shelf of the closet.

She frowned at the ragged pile of his clothing on the couch, then sighed. Some things never changed. She walked to the middle of the room, then pointed at the spot in front of her. “Here.”

He walked over, and stood in front of her expectantly, eagerly.

She smiled back, and her finger twirled. “Turn around.”

He shuffled in a circle, and she carefully placed the vibrator in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades and the small of his back. The bandage came apart with the rasp of adhesive, and she began to wind it around his chest. “You want me to help you get in shape, well, this is the price. You’re going to get me off while you do it.”

He melted a little in her arms. “Thank you ma’am.”

“You are right to thank me, for I am a kind and generous ma’am.” She tucked the tape in, and checked to make sure the vibrator was secure, then chuckled. “Seriously, because I’m starting off with the vibrator. You’re going to keep doing this until you can fuck me with a dildo and get me off. But that seemed unlikely at this point, and as much as I might enjoy your awkward baby deer learning to walk thrusting, I don’t think it would get me off. Down on the floor, on your face.”

He knelt down then slid forward until his body was on the floor, his arms out in the classic push-up position.

She straddled his body with her legs, then ran her hands through her hair, admiring the sight of his naked body beneath her. “But at some point, I will put a nice fat dildo on your back and you will give me a long, hard fuck with it, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded beneath her, and the muscles in his arms tensed.

“Yes ma’am.” She parroted the words back to him. “Because your body isn’t really improving unless it’s making me happier, isn’t that right?”

He shuddered a little, and nodded again. “Yes ma’am, my body is there to make you happy.”

“I’m so glad we agree. Up.” He shoved himself up, legs locked, and she nodded in approval. “You can do them from your knees if you need to, but I want you to do them this way as long as possible.” She leaned down and flipped on the vibrator, and then kneeled down, barely touching her cunt to the vibrating rod in the center of his back.

She sighed and then slowly lowered her weight until it pushed him down to the floor. She could feel him pushing back, grinding the vibrator into her clit, sending little waves of pleasure through her body. She slowly pushed up with her knees, letting him complete the push-up, then pausing at the top until she felt the vibrator just start to lose contact.

She held him there, letting him stay in position, until the muscles in his arms trembled and began to fail. She could hear his breath as he started to sink towards the floor against his will, and followed him down, just barely staying in contact with the vibrator, forcing him to try to keep his arms straight.

She rode him like that, varying the speed and tempo, letting him push himself up then forcing him back down with her weight, or forcing him to try and keep his arms rigid as long as possible. Sweat ran down his back and dripped off his forehead as he forced his muscles up and down.

He could feel the vibrator on his back, and the mass of her weight grinding into it above him. Her hips were starting to roll and her breath was getting faster when he was pinned to the floor, and had to shove his knees flat against the floor to make his arms lift his body.

She chuckled above him. “Ah, someone’s getting tired. Luckily, you asked for motivation.” She waited until he had shoved himself all the way up, his knees hard against the floor, his breath harsh and ragged and his arms trembling, then leaned back and slapped him in the balls.

She rode his body down as he let out a sharp yip and crashed to the floor, the sudden pain driving the strength from his body.

She ground her cunt into the vibrator, and pinched his ass as she moaned. “You do them girly style, you get slapped in the balls. Motivation.”

He tried to shove his entire body off the floor, but couldn’t move. She pressed down above him, and fatigue made it impossible. Finally, whimpering, he left his knees on the floor and pushed. She rode him up, watching his arms, waiting for his elbows to lock, then shoved down with her weight and slapped his balls again.

“Oh fuck.” Her breathing was almost as harsh and ragged as his the scene repeated itself. His body frantically struggling to move, the tired, shredded muscles protesting, the sudden rush of pain as he finally reached the apex and then came crashing down.

“Faster, fucking do it faster or I’ll yank your balls off and feed them to you.”

He made a primal, animal sound and shoved, one arm rising, then the other, his body lurching and twisting under her, dragging the vibrator from side to side and smashing it into her cunt. She rode him up, then slapped his balls and rode him down again.

He became an obscene, tortured animal, and she drove him, forcing his body to respond to her will. Forcing his muscles to move even when they refused, forcing him to work them until she rewarded him with pain and forced them to move even further. Sweat rolled off him now, and she was almost there.

She grabbed his hair, jerking his head back, and leaned forward. “Keep yourself up this time, keep yourself up.” He forced his body into the air, locked his elbows, and tried to keep his trembling arms from collapsing. She held his hair with one hand, ground herself into the vibrator, and reached back and started slapping his balls with her other hand.

Her body contorted and twisted, she could feel him trembling beneath her, and wrenched the hand in his hair, helping him keep his body upright. Her hips bucked as she came, and suddenly his arms couldn’t take it anymore. He collapsed and she rode him down, her orgasm starting, almost slipping away as his body rushed to the floor, then slamming into her as he stopped and the vibrator was suddenly pressing hard against her clit.

Her breath exploded out of her and she leaned forward, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. All speech and coherent thought left her as pleasure rolled through her body, until finally it slowed down. She whimpered and lifted her body off the vibrator, suddenly sensitive. She turned it off, and the sudden silence seemed strange.

He was on the floor, under her, his arms pulled tight against his body. She could tell form the lines of this face that his eyes were shut tightly, his legs knees were bent, as if he were trying to crawl into the fetal position and had just stopped.

She cuddled up beside him, and slowly rolled him over until he was on his back. “Can you hear me?”

The words penetrated the fog of pain and pleasure in his mind, and he swallowed hard, then slowly nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. I want you to jerk off. Now.”

She put her head on one elbow, and looked down the length of his body. He tried to force his arms towards his cock, a little at a time, but invariably they would twitch. His knees would draw towards his chest, then flatten out, and he would whimper and stop.

She took one of his wrists in her hand, and slowly pulled it towards his cock. “Don’t you want to jerk off?”

He tried to make his arms move again, to ignore the burning pain in his shoulders, then whimpered. “Not right now, ma’am, please, it hurts so much.”

She nodded. “Fine. But this is the only way you’ll be coming from now on. You’ll do your push-ups every other day, so your muscles have a day to heal. But you’re not going to come until you’re strong enough to fuck me like that and still jerk yourself off. Understood.”

He sighed and pulled his arms back up to his chest. “Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.” She stroked his hair, and he leaned up far enough to give her a quick kiss.

She kissed him back, then grinned playfully. “Hm, that gives me an idea for sit-ups.”

Preview: “It’s not like you need them, I mean, I could just rip them off and it wouldn’t be any different, right?”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Scene From a Burger Restaurant: Reality

A continuation of the previous story.

He waited in the garage, kneeling on concrete with his pants around his ankles, hands cuffed behind his back, leashed to the wall, and a garbage bag wrapped around his head. The jagged edges of plastic from the hole she had torn in the trash bag fluttered around his mouth.

He heard her footsteps coming back, and licked his lips. A slight rustle of plastic, and her fingers were in his mouth, pulling his jaw apart. Cold stands of noodles and tomato sauce slid past his lips, and worked their way into his mouth. “Chew.”

His jaw started to work, reducing the food to paste, mixing it with saliva.

Her voice loomed above him. “Swallow.”

His throat contracted, and he forced himself to swallow.

Latex slid into his mouth, a round column of hard plastic. “Suck.”

He started to suck on the dildo, sliding his lips up and down, gagging slightly as it hit the back of his throat. His head lurched forward as it slid away and his lips popped as it came out of his mouth.

“Disgusting. You got your filth all over my favorite cock, you’re going to have to clean that mess up.” The dildo slid back through the hole in trash bag into his mouth, and he started to lick down its length and suck on it. Lifting himself higher on his knees to get more in his mouth, he blindly tried to cover every vein and crevice with his tongue to clean it off.

“Oh, are you getting hard? Sure you want to do that?” The words brought him back, reminded him of being chained to a dumpster in a dirty alley, waitresses and busboys coming out to humiliate and degrade him, cover him in the scraps of food left behind by strangers.

The thought made him whimper, and he realized his cock was getting harder. He shook his head no, and tried to plead with the cock in his mouth. To not be dragged out to the trunk of the car, driven to an alley, and left there like a random hole for strangers to fill with garbage.

She laughed above him, enjoying the garbled sounds coming out of his mouth. “Okay, I’ll help you this once.” The toe of her boot flicked into his balls, and his body jumped. The wretched sounds coming out of his mouth suddenly got louder, and she kicked his balls a second and third time, until his cock was totally limp.

“You should say thank you.” She slid the cock out of his mouth long enough for him to swallow hard and take a deep breath.

“Thank you for keeping my cock from getting hard, ma’am.”

She smiled and nodded slightly, then took another handful of leftover spaghetti and shoved it into his mouth. She shoved it back, then scooped up the strands hanging out of his mouth and shoved them in the gaping hole in the plastic bag. She reached in her bag again, and pulled out a jug of milk. A little bit of white liquid sloshed in the bottom, and a slightly sour smell hit her nostrils as she opened the lid.

She held his head back as he chewed, and poured it in his mouth.

He gasped and sputtered, the milk running down his chin and across the skin of his neck. He kept chewing, swallowing and making contorted faces under the plastic. She didn’t wait for him to finish this time, shoving the dildo into his mouth and grinding it against the food there.

The dildo smashed the food against his tongue, teeth, and cheeks until it was reduced to a disgusting pulp. Some he swallowed, some fell out of his mouth, dragged past his lips by the cock fucking his face.

She dragged more food out of the bag, and shoved more in his mouth whenever it started to look less than full. “You’re disgusting, you’re not even a very good dumpster.” She looked down and sighed happily. “And your cock is getting hard again.”

His garbled pleas sprayed food, and she winced at the mess in the garbage bag, but still felt herself getting into that mental space where time slowed down and they were the only thing in the world.

“You can use my foot to make your cock soft, but you’ll have to do it yourself this time.” She leaned her foot back on its heel, the toe sticking up in the air in front of his cock.

His body jerked forward, slapping his crotch into the toe of her boot, torturing his cock and balls. He tried to howl at the pain but all the came out past the dildo and garbage in his mouth was a strangled animal sound.

She shoved more food in his mouth and looked at his cock. “You just use my boot whenever you start to get hard, because I am a kind and gracious ma’am. And I swear to god if you get a hard-on I’ll drag you downtown, chain you to that dumpster, and leave you there for a week.”

His body jerked frantically from head to toe, trying to keep his mouth from over-flowing, suck her cock, and slap her boot with his balls all at once. Food and milk ran out of his mouth and pooled where the garbage bag was taped around his neck, sloshing and distorting his features even further, looking like giant garbage filled boils ready to burst under his white plastic skin.

She kept fucking his face until the bag was empty, then ground the rest of the food in his mouth until it was pulp that fell out or he swallowed. She wiped it off on the garbage over his eyes, then tossed it aside, and held his jaw in one hand. He heard her spit just before it fell into his throat, and he shivered in her hands.

She felt tremors throughout her body as his balls slapped into her boot again, and she needed to come now. She spit in his mouth again, then let go of his face just long enough to unbutton her pants and slide them down to her knees, then her ankles. Her panties followed, and she fished one foot out of the cloth and repositioned her feet.

His body humped the air, jerking automatically, blindly seeking her boot to smash into, until she swung one leg over and put her foot back.

He slapped into it with an oomph and she groaned in pleasure. Her fingers found her clit and she started to jerk herself off. She grabbed his head again, partially to hold it still and partially to support herself as her legs began to shake.

She leaned against him, and then, just as she started to come, pulled his mouth near her cunt and started to piss. The acrid liquid shot into his mouth and he gasped and sputtered, then began to swallow eagerly.

She shuddered through her orgasm as her bladder emptied, then leaned over and took deep, hard breaths. Her eyes were closed, but she sensed him growing still under her hands. His hips stopped twitching, and the sound of the plastic moving with his breath got slower and steadier.

“Good boy, good boy. Stay a second. She got the safety scissors out of her back pocket, and carefully began to cut the tape away. The garbage bag fell away in chunks, and she put it in the empty grocery bag, careful not to get any on her legs or boots.

His face appeared a little at a time, sweaty, covered in garbage, and flushed and happy. His eyes were bright, and he couldn’t seem to stop grinning despite the paste of food smeared across him.

She laughed at his expression, then patted his head. “God, you’re a fucking mess. Stay here, I’ll go get some paper towels.”

He licked and his lips and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” His posture relaxed, and he leaned back to take some weight off his knees.

She started out, and he cleared his throat. “Hey, would you really have done that? Taken me down to the restaurant and chained me to the dumpster.”

She grinned back at him, then shrugged and smiled. “Maybe.”

Preview: That’s going to cost you.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Sweet Dreams

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He paused, pants halfway down his legs, hunched over. “What? Take off my clothes?”

She propped her head up one hand. “Come to bed.”

“Why not?” He shifted his weight, balancing carefully.

“I’ve been feeling… I guess the word is predatory lately. I really want to take down something strong that is temporarily weak and helpless.” Her eyes roamed up and down his body, fixing on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. “Like when it was asleep.”

He slid his pants down his legs, and licked his lips. “Asleep?”

“Um-hum.” She licked her lips and nodded. “You’ve been dropping your subtle hints about being locked in chastity again lately, and I’ve been wondering if I could put it on you while you slept.”

He pulled his pants off and tossed them in the clothes hamper, then grinned at her. “That doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

“I’ve also been wondering about coating the inside of it with Icy-Hot.”

He winced. “That sounds less fun.”

“I know.” Her eyes narrowed, and she eyed his underwear. “Loose the boxers, they’re chafing me.”

He pulled them off slowly, then tossed them in the hamper. “Uhm…”

She motioned him closer with her free hand. “Do you think you’d wake up if I put a collar around your neck? I kind of want to chain you to the bed, and
not let you go until you get me off with your mouth. That would make your cock hard, wouldn’t it? I mean, that would really get whatever I put on the inside of that plastic tube that controls your cock smeared on well, wouldn’t it? I’d just hate for you to go running off to the bathroom to try to wash it off before I was done with your mouth.”

He whimpered, and carefully slid into bed, not taking his eyes off of her.

“You don’t by the way. Wake up. I put a collar on you last night, took it off, and you didn’t wake up at all. Slept like a baby. And lose the shirt.”

He pushed the shirt up over his head, and dropped it on the floor behind him. His breathing was harder and faster, and his cock twitched at the thought of waking up to pain and captivity.

She shifted her weight, then pulled the covers down and smiled pleasantly at the sight of his naked body. “I know you’re wondering if I’m just bluffing, and I’d hate for you to be uncertain. So I took some pictures.” She slid her phone across the bed to him, and flicked it awake with a swipe of her finger.

The picture was of him, asleep, with a collar around his neck. The next picture was of her holding the chastity cage over his cock. He looked carefully, but couldn’t tell if the glistening plastic was just the flash, or if there was something smeared on the inside. The next picture was a of a cat. He frowned and slid it back across the bed to her.

“Turn the light off, and scooch over. I want to cuddle, and I want to be the big spoon. And maybe if you hold me tight enough, I won’t feel like moving and doing those horrible things to you.”

He flipped the light off and moved over to her side of the bed, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her tight. His cock was hard, and she purred as she felt it pressing up against her.

“Or maybe I will. Sweet dreams.” She snuggled back against him, closed her eyes, and started to drift off.

He laid there for a long time, wondering if she was really asleep, then closed his own eyes and drifted off.

Preview: “Locking it up isn’t enough. I want you to ache to be released.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Choose Your Own Adventure Part 9: The End

Choose Your Own Adventure Part 1

Don’t try this one at home kids. Breath play is serious stuff.

The bag hit the floor in front of his hands. “Put it on.”

His fingers relaxed and the needle fell to the floor. The cloth was smooth, light, and warm in his hands as he pulled it open and slipped it over his head. The world plunged into darkness, and he could feel his breath filling the hood.

He sensed her movements around him, picking up the needle and antiseptic. Then her boot thudded into his shoulder and he was falling, hitting the floor with a rush of disorientation and pain. The heavy sole worked its way around his body, stomping into his flesh, grinding and twisting his muscles and skin. His body twitched under it, instinctively trying to defend itself or flee, to do anything to escape the pain.

The clinical part of his mind noticed that she was avoiding his lower arms and face. She wanted to leave marks, to grind the sole of her boot into him and brand him as her property. To tear, to bruise, to change the flesh so he would remember this every time he showered. To make his body less his, and more hers.

He could feel her footsteps in the floor, stomping around him, working her way down one side of his body then up the other. There was a pause, and then the toe of her boot flicked into his balls. His hips jerked and then slapped back down into the carpet and the cold, numbing pain flashed across his balls.

She kicked him in the balls again, watching his hips jerk and his arms twitch. His body slammed itself up and down each time, a mockery of fucking, until she placed her boot on his cock and pinned him, twisting it back and forth. She could feel his body pushing back against her foot, trapped between her and the floor, bulging and straining against her.

His head was a black pool on the floor, his body an anonymous toy she could hurt and get herself off on. She bit her lower lip, mentally going over what was going to happen next one more time.

She moved her foot, and repositioned herself to sit down on his chest, pinning his arms with her knees. The plastic slipped over his hood, and she cinched it down, cutting off the flow of fresh air. It inflated suddenly, the air rushing out of his body as he realized what was happening and his body jerked under again. Then the bag deflated, and began to move slowly and regularly as he forced himself not to waste oxygen.

That was what she was waiting for, and tremors worked their way up her thighs. That moment of calm surrender, the acknowledgment that she controlled him clear down to his breathing.

She counted off seconds in her head, then opened the bottom of the bag long enough for him to take a breath, then wrenched it closed with her fist. She held it closed a few more seconds each time, forcing him to go a little further, take it a little longer. Finally, she licked her lips and started counting for the last time, holding it closed until she reached the last number, then pulling it off his face.

He could feel cool air drying the sweat on his face as she pulled the black cloth off his head. He lay under her, squinting his eyes at the sudden light with the warm rush of endorphins and adrenalin making his head warm and fuzzy.

“It’s over Navaux. You’re dead.”

He swallowed hard and grinned at her. “I’m getting better.”

She snorted and shook her head. “I should have known you couldn’t get through this without a fucking Monty Python quote.”

That’s it! End of the Choose Your Own Adventure Saga. It’s been a lot of fun, thanks for voting and commenting. I saw a lot of people who hadn’t commented before, and found out some things about reader preferences (apparently some people are very dedicated to cbt, which I’ll keep in mind in the future). Maybe I’ll do something like this again some time, but I have some real world stuff coming up that I need to build up a story buffer for, so it’s a pretty good time to end it. Ciao.

Preview: I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Choose Your Own Adventure 8: Needle and the Cock

Part 1, where it starts.

She swallowed hard, then walked around in front of him. “That was good, Navaux. I’ll even take the ball crusher off, since you did so well. But first I want to negotiate something with you. I know you’re afraid of them, but I want you to take a needle in your cock.”

His eyes slammed shut, and he shook his head back and forth. His body trembled, and his shoulders slumped. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She knelt down beside him and let her hand rest on his back. “The skin and tissue is thin, it won’t even hurt that much.”

His head continued to rock from side to side.

She wrapped her arms around him. “You can do this. Just like any other project. Break it down into small, manageable steps, and do them one at a time.”

He flinched at the thought of the steel sliding through his cock. Cringed at the thought of the needle.

She reached under him, and began to spin the bolts on the ball crusher, loosening it until it slid off of his body. The plastic was hot and slick with his sweat, and he moaned as the weight disappeared. His head still shook from side to side. She tossed the crusher to one side.

“Sit.” Her hands guided him to a sitting position on the floor, and she twisted the cap off a bottle of water and handed it to him. He took a slow swallow, and licked his lips.


She nodded. “You can do this, and it will make me very happy if you do. Take a minute, and get into a better head space.”

He took another sip of water, and shivered at the thought. “I don’t think I can.”

She grinned behind him. “I think you can. Drink your water and take a minute.”

She stomped off, and gathered some things. Coming back, she frowned at the sheets of paper. Her original plan of having him choose his paths and turns… it had kind of gone to hell. She shrugged and grinned. It could always happen some other time.

She threw a pillow down on the floor, and sat down facing him. In front of him she carefully arranged the gloves, alcohol swabs, and sterile packages of needles.

He exhaled and his mouth turned into a frown at the site of the needles. “Are you really going to shove a needle through my cock?”

“No.” She leaned back against the pillow and pulled her dress up, then slid her panties to one side. His eyes locked on her cunt. “You are.”

He twitched again, and closed his eyes. He took a long drink of water before answering, stalling for time. “I can’t.”

She rubbed her slit slowly, and purred when he opened his eyes again. “Oh, I really think you can. Put a glove on.”

His hands trembled as he slowly pulled one of the latex gloves out of the box. Her eyes narrowed and her breathing got a little faster as he worked the latex up his hands, pulling it on further, and working the latex to remove the air bubbles.

“Good boy.” She held her hand out to him, and he obediently sucked on her glistening finger. “Now, another glove.” She pulled her finger out of his mouth with a pop and went back to jerking herself off.

He kept his eyes on her cunt, trying not to think about the needles, and jerked the glove out. The box bounced up then fell back to the floor with a whump. The latex slowly slid over his hand, expanding as his fist filled it.

She nodded. “Good boy. You get another treat.” She held her fingers out again, and he leaned forward, sucking on them.

“Now open an alcohol swab, and rub it on your cock. Don’t think about anything else, just rub the swab on your cock.”

He pulled the aluminum packaging apart, and fished the white square of cloth out. He shifted his hips, and carefully rubbed the cool alcohol on his cock until the flesh glistened. His nose wrinkled, the smell always reminded him of the dentist’s office. When he was done he carefully put the used cloth on the box of gloves, and waited.

“Good.” Her fingers had started moving faster while he sterilized his cock, and she spread her legs a little wider. “Now, just pick up the package, and open the needle.”

His face contorted, and he moved his hand slowly over to the needle. He awkwardly pulled the plastic apart, looking back and forth from her fingers sliding over her cunt to the needle.

“Hmmmm.” She murmured her approval, then held her hand out. “Be careful with that.” He sucked her fingers, and she bit her lip. “Give me a second, I want to come just as you do it.” She took her fingers back, and rubbed her clit.

“Hold your cock with one hand, and put the needle against it with the other.”

He shifted his hips, leaning back and breathing fast and hard through clenched teeth. The needle danced a finger’s space from his cock.

She shook her head. “Put it against your cock, just the tip of it. Don’t push it in, just barely touch it.”

He shifted his hips again, then slowly brought the needle over until it barely touched his skin.

“Ummm-humm.” She groaned her approval, and nodded. Her fingers kept her on the edge of an orgasm, and she watched carefully. “Now, slowly…”

He tried to move his hands, but they refused to respond. He looked away, back at her cunt, and told them to move, but nothing happened. He took a deep breath, and tried again. Nothing. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.” Her fingers moved impatiently, willing him to move his hands, to shove the needle through his cock.

He tried again, then moved the needle away a little. “I can’t.”

She breathed out explosively, forcing herself not to scream. “It’s the needle or the bag and the guillotine, you’re going to need to make your choice before I count to ten. One, two, three, four, five…”

What does Navaux choose?

1. Shove the needle through his cock!
2. Fuck it, black bag and guillotine time!

Happy voting!

Preview: Make them convincing. Very convincing.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

The Smile

The rope cut into his neck, choking off his breath every time he tried to move away from her. His knees burned from where the carpet ground into them and sweat poured down his face, soaking into the blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

He didn’t know exactly where the next hit would land. She circled him, pulling on the rope to keep him upright, using it to twist his body into position and hurt him wherever she wanted. It was the thin, flexible rod that left the intense, awful stinging sensation and bright lines across his body that ached more after the impact.

Those bright lines criss-crossed his body, tracing sore muscles and broken skin. The tops of his shoulders were layered heavily, and the space between his shoulder blades. His chest had a series of short, sharp lines where she had only hit him with the tip. The front and backs of his legs were a fractal image of broken shapes made by the rod slapping against his skin.

Clothespins littered the floor around them, the small red marks still visible on his skin. She had put them on delicately, one at a time, placing them carefully as the small jaws pinched and crushed the meat of his body. Then she had savagely ripped them off.

His arms were trapped behind his back, rope biting into his skin, chafing and irritating. It immobilized his arms, kept him from defending himself, and gave him something to push against. The muscles in his shoulders strained when his brain screamed at his body to do something, anything, to deal with the pain.

The plug in his ass was fully inflated. It pushed against him from the inside, the hose and bulb dangling outside of him and snaking across the floor like a tether. She would push lightly on it with her foot as she passed by, the hiss of escaping air and slight movement not letting him forget it was lodged in his ass.

His thighs trembled, the Ben Gay on his groin a throbbing sledgehammer. She had rubbed it carefully on his left ball, then grinning, fondled his right ball. The mix of pleasure and pain had sent him into gasping sobs, but now the pleasure was gone and there was only pain. He sobbed and prayed he wouldn’t vomit, and wondered when it would end.

She never told him, but she was waiting for the smile. That was when it would end. The dopamine and endorphin induced grin he got when he finally let go of everything and the pain turned into euphoria. That was what would get her off. That was when she would stop.

And not before.

Preview: It’s our next needley installment of the Choose Your Own Adventure… erm, adventure! It looks like Navaux’s cock has a date with the needle, but might there not be more? Check back Friday and find out.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Choose Your Own Adventure 7: Spanking Time

Start here, with part 1, to start at the start: Part 1

“That’s it! Smart boy.” She continued to tighten the clamps, then stopped, letting it hang on his body. His balls flattened between the plastic, his thighs trembling, sweat starting to run down his body. “But now we need to see how much you really want to suffer for the republic.”

“Get down on all fours.”

He moved hid body carefully, painfully aware of the ball crusher still hanging off his pelvis, and got down on all fours. His legs were spread wide to keep from bumping the contraption dangling off of him, and he tried to prepare himself for whatever was going to happen next.

She picked up the wooden spoon, and slapped it against her palm. Her thighs clenched when she saw him flinch, and she slapped it down into her palm again. She let him think about it for a few more seconds, then picked up a chair and set it directly behind him. “Just twenty strokes of the spoon, but you’ll need to count them.”

He sighed and relaxed, then nodded. “Yes, Citizen Ma’am, thank you Citizen Ma’am.” He couldn’t see her smirk.

The first swat thudded into his ass cheek, and he dutifully counted, “One.” Each subsequent stroke hurt a little more, and his voice caught a little more as he counted. By the time he reached fifteen, the methodical beating had turned into a constant stream of pain where the actual hits were just peaks.

Then, there was a flurry of swats, one after the other, the spoon bouncing off his flesh and immediately returning with hot impact. “Six-ouch-fuck-damn-shit!”

She laughed behind him. “Oooh, you lost count. That means we have to start over.”

His body slumped, but he took a deep breath and nodded his agreement.

She smiled, and felt her body tingling at his pain. “It’s only twenty with the spoon, try to keep up with the count this time Navaux, or we’ll be here all night.”

The beating started again.

He started counting again.

His legs started to tremble by the sixteenth stroke. He waited, feeling each thud and counting along. By the time he got to nineteen he was already prepared to sob in relief. Then, the sudden woosh of air, he cried out “Twenty,” and realized their had been no impact. “Fuck…” He slumped down on his elbows, letting his face fall to the floor.

“You missed the count Navaux. A loyal citizen has to be much more careful. We’ll start over with one. Again.”

He didn’t even nod this time, just shifted his knees slightly, and braced himself. The spoon thudded into his ass. As the pain consumed him he became eager for the strokes he counted, both to keep the rush of endorphins going and to bring the beating to end.

The slow, methodical beating continued. Through the single digits, up through the teens, and finally a twentieth impact on his ass. “Twenty!”

She let him sob in relief, then moved around to stand in front of him. “That was nineteen, actually. We’ll have to start over.”

“Huh?” He felt the dull, throbbing pain in his ass, the weight of the ball crusher hanging off his body, and the hundred other aches and pains.

“The first hit, it was with my hand. So that one didn’t count. But I had a lot of fun listening to you count every single hit wrong.”

“Please…” It was a tortured moan. “I don’t know if I can do another twenty.”

She smiled primly. “Well, let’s find out.”

He pushed himself against the floor, trying to create sensations other than the burning in his ass and the crushing pain on his testicles. The ball crusher leaped and jerked every time he moved, and he tried to force his hips to stay still as she began to beat his ass again.

She started again, measuring the strokes, listening to his voice as he counted. Pushing him just a little further than he thought he could go, helping him take a little more pain than he thought was possible. She beat him with hard, measured strokes, watching him sink deeper and deeper into the haze of pain.

His pain took her along with him, and she felt her own thoughts getting fuzzy. The world collapsed until it was just the two of them, the thudding smack of wood against flesh, and numbers. When he reached twenty, she paused for a second, then hit him again. Partially to see what would happen, partially to enjoy it a little longer.

“Twenty-one.” No change in his voice or posture.

She swallowed hard, then walked around in front of him. “That was good, Navaux. I’ll even take the ball crusher off, since you did so well. But first I want to negotiate something with you. I know you’re afraid of them, but I want you to take a needle in your…”

Where does she want to stick the needle? Vote away, for pointy things, and democracy!

1. Nipple
2. Cock
3. Chest

Preview: *swish* *swish* *thud*

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Choose Your Own Adventure 6: Viva la CBT!

As usual, probably make more sense if you start with part 1. The Part 1.

He took a deep breath, and blinked his eyes, trying to clear his head. He wasn’t thinking about trying to win the game anymore, or worrying about the storyline, he just tried to imagine what would please her.

“Citizen ma’am, please torture my cock and balls…”

She chuckled, and licked her lips. “Well, since you asked so politely.” She stood up and kicked his feet apart with short, lazy blows from her boots. “Stay.” She stomped over to the closet, and returned with a candle and a lighter.

Her face scrunched up for a second, and her eyes narrowed. She jerked her head at his discarded shirt. “Put that under your cock. I don’t want candle wax getting on the carpet.”

He lifted his hips slightly and worked the shirt under them until she nodded, then let his aching body sink back down.

“Happy birthday to you.” She sang softly as she lit the candle, and watched the wax build up. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, waiting for the hot wax to drip down his body. “Happy birthday to you.”

The first drop of wax hit his stomach, higher than he expected, and he forced himself to control his breathing. It was burning, stinging sensation that left his skin warm and irritated.

She continued singing, moving the candle a little closer towards her, watching the wax carefully. “I’m going to torture your cock.” The drop fell, hitting one side of his cock. His hips rolled and she grinned down at him. “Because that’s what I do.”

Molten drops pelted his body, turning his cock and balls into a throbbing, burning mass. She moved the candle up and down as she rocked back and forth, the wax hitting his skin getting cooler as she moved it higher, hotter as she lowered it towards his body. She tried to keep his body jerking at a constant rate, moving the candle up and down, covering his cock and balls in liquid torment.

When splotches of dried wax saturated his cock and balls, she leaned over to grab his hair and pull him into a sitting position. “Blow out the candle.”

He exhaled sharply, and the candle flame disappeared.

She held him up by his hair, and looked carefully at his face. His eyes were still closed, but his jaw wasn’t clenched, and she could tell by his breathing that his mind was far, far away.

“All right, up and on your feet.” She stood up and used his hair as a handle to pull him along with her, forcing him upright. She kicked his legs apart again, and set the candle and lighter aside. She picked up the crop, and slapped the spots of wax on his cock.

“Ooooph.” He groaned and his hips started to rock again as she beat at the wax, breaking pieces off, revealing the bright red skin underneath. She flicked the crop over and over, moving from side to side, changing her position and the angle of her wrist to hit different spots.

His eyelids fluttered and his head arched back at the flood of endorphins as she tortured his cock and balls, his whole body jerking in time with her swats.

She finally took a deep breath, and looked at him critically. “It will have to do, for now.” Fragments of wax still clung to his skin, but most of the wax lay in broken shards on his shirt below them. “Don’t worry though, we’re not done yet.”

She stepped away long enough to get the ball crusher, two pieces of plastic with long bolts and wing nuts to pull the plates together. She grabbed his balls, feeling an electric jolt travel through her body at how hot they were, and carefully pulled them between the two plates. “You’re going to suffer now, Navaux.”

She spun the wingnuts around until they started to put pressure on the plates, and then paused. He was holding his breath, and she waited until he started to breathe again before slowly applying pressure. She didn’t want him passing out again.

“Why is this happening Navaux?” She moved from side to side, gradually increasing the pressure.

He shuddered and moaned. “Because I must suffer for the republic ma’am.”

“Nope.” She pushed each nut around the bolt a few more times, then asked him again. “Why is this happening Navaux?”

He whimpered as the pressure increased, the relentless crushing sensation rising into his stomach. “Ugh… because I asked for it ma’am.”

She rocked her head from side to side, and continued to tighten the vise. “Closer, but not quite. Try again.”

He felt like he was going to throw up, and made himself look away from his flattened testicles. “Because I begged for you to torture my cock and balls ma’am.”

“That’s it! Smart boy.” She continued to tighten the clamps, then stopped, letting it hang on his body. His balls flattened between the plastic, his thighs trembling, sweat starting to run down his body. “But now we need to see how much you really want to suffer for the republic.”

What comes next? Vote before next Wednesday, and look for the next chapter next Friday.

1. Anal unpleasantness!
2. Needle play!
3. Spanking!

Or enter a write in vote in the comments!

Preview: “I don’t want you to give me anything, I just want to take.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Kid Games

She grinned up at him. “That’s two for flinching.”

He whimpered and she brought her knees up into his balls, letting him almost recover than doing it again. He sagged against the bonds, his thighs trembling. The spreader bar held his legs shoulder width apart, and the raw sickness of pain in his balls filled his stomach.

She brought her knee up again and his body jerked, then slumped as he realized her knee had stopped right before impact. She laughed and patted him on the arm. “Two more for flinching. This is almost too easy…”

Her eyes locked on his as she slammed her knee into his balls again, then again. The way his entire face contorted, the brutal honesty of the pain flickering across his features.

She waited for his breathing to slow back down, and then jerked her knee up again. He exhaled, but held his body still, forcing himself not to move.

“Good boy, you didn’t flinch.” He nodded, then she brought her knee the rest of the way up into his balls. His body jerked then fell back against the ropes.

She shook her head as she laughed. “That wasn’t really fair, was it? Okay, I suppose you win that one. But I can still win at… purple nurple!” She grabbed his nipples and twisted, pinching the flesh and jerking it one way, then the other, contorting it with pain.

His body writhed in front of her, bouncing back and forth, bucking like an animal trying to escape the pain. She leaned in close, rolling her body and keeping her hands still, then twisting further with her wrists. She was relentless, twisting and turning his flesh.

He felt the searing pain in his chest, tried to move his body with her but couldn’t, and finally gasped out “Uncle! Fuck! Uncle!”

She gave one last twist, and then let go of his chest. “Damn, that looked really painful.”

He nodded wearily. “Yeah, it definitely kind of sucked.”

“I’ve got something that will take your mind off of it.” She walked out of the room, and a few seconds later he heard water running. He hissed out of his teeth when he saw her return, a wet towel twisted along the diagonal in her hands.

She raised her eyebrows and grinned at him, then flicked it at his thigh. The wet cloth slapped into the sensitive skin leaving a stinging, burning pain. She worked methodically but without any set pattern, covering his body, sometimes hitting the same space several times in a row, sometimes jumping from spot to spot seemingly at random.

But they all hit him.

It was a sharp, stinging sensation. Not painful, but incredibly annoying, especially with his hands bound. She started circling his stomach, working around it, bring the towel closer and closer to his cock.

Finally he cleared his throat, and through gritted teeth growled out the word “Uncle.”

She hit him one last time and did a little dance, “I win. I win. Who wins? I win!” She was still chortling when she grabbed the velcro around one of his wrists and pulled it loose. His arm fell to his side, and she wadded the towel up in her hands. “Two out of three bitch, you take out the garbage this week.”

He grinned and started getting himself loose, trying to ignore the aches and dull thudding pain he still felt. “I am so not letting you pick the games next week.”

She shrugged. “I’ll still win.”

Preview: Tune in for the next chapter of the Choose Your Own Adventure Story!

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.