The Punching bag
I don’t know how she got me. I don’t know who she is other than my Mistress. I don’t know my name, or where I came from. I only know opening my eyes, and seeing here there. Somehow knowing that she owned me. That no matter what I wanted, I’d be doing her will always.
I later came to realize that she was some kind of witch, or psychic phenomenon. Everyone always did what she wanted. Everyone always agreed with her. She went no where that she wasn’t instantly the most popular person in the room.
I don’t know why she chose me, or why she keeps me in such cruel captivity. I don’t know what made her so hateful and mean. I have often though that I’m lucky she is young and beautiful considering the fact that she uses me for sex. It’s hard to look on the bright side though when every day you wish you could kill yourself. When every night you find yourself hoping that the house would catch fire and you’d burn up. None of that would have ever happened though because she was always in such control. She was always so on top of things.
Part of the advantage to my Mistresses particular unique control powers was that she could tell me anything, and I’d obey. This obedience included things that were normally physically impossible. She could tell me to fly -for instance- and I would obey. Because of this ability, she could give me punishments that were by all other means impossible. This made her impossibly, outrageously cruel punishments -which she loved so much- possible.
Like the time she told me that my cock was now indestructible, but that I still had all the sensation in it that I normally would. I could feel all the pleasure and pain that I always had in my penis, but it simply couldn’t become injured in any way. Then she slipped a special condom on me -which had some kind of mild acid on the inside of it- and fucked me for five hours straight as I cried and screamed and begged for mercy.
Or the time she told me that I couldn’t breathe unless I was licking her pussy and made me spend the next two days crawling around desperately trying to keep my face between her legs. I licked for so long that my tongue cramped, and my mouth tasted like her cum for weeks afterwards.
On the particular occasion that I want to tell about, I forget what I was even being punished for. Most likely some tiny infraction like spilling water on the floor or something along those lines. At any rate though I remember the punishment it’s self very well.
It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and she dragged me into an all night gym completely naked. It only took me a second or two to realize that it was one of those new all women gyms that are popping up every where. I scanned the room -which was full of about twenty or thirty women in for a late night work out- and wanted to die of humiliation as several of them began to notice me naked standing amongst them.
“Walk over there” Mistress said pointing to the boxing area where a fairly large group of women were working over a row of punching bags. My face turned scarlet as more of the women started to notice me laughing to each other and pointing at me. I was powerless to do anything but obey my mistresses commands however, and I suffered my degradation in silence. At once point I tried to cover my crotch with my hands, but this made mistress mad. “Get those out of the way!” She snapped. “These women want to see all of your body. In fact, claps your hands behind your head.” I did as told.
Mistress took me up a small flight of stairs and led me out onto a platform near the hanging punching bags. This platform had a hole about the size if a bowling ball in it. “Sit down with your scrotum hanging through the center of the hole.” She commanded pointing to the platform. No sooner had I obeyed than she issued an other order. “Grow your balls bigger.” My testicles started growing rapidly, and in the space of about three seconds became roughly the size of a duffle bag with two huge watermelons stuffed in it. “That’s big enough.” She said.
If there were any women before this spectacle who hadn’t notice me, they had given up their workouts now, and were crowing around mouths agape watching the spectacle Mistress was making of me.
I could no longer fit my balls back up through the hole, and with horror began to think I knew what her plan was. I heard her go back down the stairs and raise her voice so all the ladies could hear. “Everyone, could I have your attention please?” She said loudly. All eyes in the gym were fixed on her. “We have a new punching bag that is in serious need of breaking in. I’d really appreciate it if you could all take a turn helping out.”
Almost before she was done speaking an excited line of boxing glove clad women had formed at the base of my balls giggling and practically frothing at the mouth at the opportunity to torture a naked male. Moments later I heard a couple of thuds in rapid succession, and a blinding pain shot through my balls and stomach as the first woman started pummeling me. I doubled over in pain and moaned, but the woman ignored this completely, and mercilessly continued pounding my balls.
I closed my eyes, but still saw stars as the woman hit me over and over again with surprising strength. Every time she’d land a punch my scrotum would swing back under the weight of my balls, and she’d smash them again on the back swing. Soon this wasn’t enough for them though, I could feel an other woman bracing herself behind my bag to hold it firmly in place and provide a backstop so that the woman doing the punching could hit even harder.
In my plight I hadn’t noticed it, but Mistress was back by my side speaking softly into my ear. “I think about... twenty four hours of this ought to help you adjust your attitude.” She said smiling that evil smile she gets when she’s pleased with herself. I gasped, and looked up at her pleadingly through tear stained eyes. “Oh but Mistre—” She held up a hand, and cut me off.
“There are a couple of rules you need to know so you don’t get in trouble. I want you to be a quiet little mouse while the women are playing with you. I don’t want you ruining the girls fun by making ugly whiney noises. So, if you make so much as a peep, I’ll add an other 24 hours for every little sound you make.” My heart sank, and I wondered how on earth I would get through this. The ache in my stomach was already so intense I wanted to vomit, and the first woman was still going strong.
Mistress continued. “Also, the women in the line can see you and I want them to know you’re enjoying yourself. I don’t want any of them seeing your sad hurt little puppy dog eyes, and feeling guilty. They might go easy on you then, and we can’t have that can we?” She asked, smiling with mock sincerity. “So for their sake, you’d better keep a very big, very happy smile plastered on your face the whole time. If you loose that smile for even a moment, you’ll stay here for an other 24 hours.”
“Your not to speak to any of the women, or to make too much eye contact with any of them. Oh, and get a hard on right now.” She ordered, and of course I couldn’t help but obey. “Keep that pretty thing stiff for these girls the whole time. I don’t need to tell you that if it deflates at all during your stay, then you will be spending even more time here.”
Before I could fully digest my horrific predicament, Mistress was gone. I felt the gut wrenching thud thud of the second woman beginning her work out on my balls, and screwed a hugely exaggerated fake smile to my lips. Through the mind numbing pain, and the soul sucking humiliation of it, I sat there like a macabre dummy while a gym full of giddy women got ready to use my balls as a punching bag for the next full day.
I’m glad that I hadn’t known at that moment that in a few hours the women’s kick boxing class was going to begin. I wish I could forget it, but this is just one in a thousand clever little tortures Mistress delights in putting me through all the time.