Part 2. Crushed to Dust
I sat on the chair, looking down from above at the pathetic wreck at my feet — balls dark purple, swollen to the limit, cock hanging lifelessly. I didn’t care whether he would ever resemble a man again.
Slowly I lowered my heel onto his mangled balls — full weight, feeling them flatten, quiver, throb beneath my soft skin. He howled, and I ground them into the floor, savoring every second of his agony.
I turned my back to him — the skirt rode up, exposing my firm, seductive ass, tempting like forbidden fruit. I knew he couldn’t look away, that he would devour this unattainable perfection with his eyes while I crushed his manhood into dust. I teased him on purpose, swaying my hips, intensifying his torment.
I stood on him with both feet — full weight, full cruelty. His balls burst under my heels, trembling on the edge, pulsing hotly. The vibration beneath my soles sent a wild sadistic ecstasy through me.
"Can you feel them popping, you piece of filth?"
I pressed harder. Then harder still. Even more viciously. I won’t stop until I see the contents of his balls spill out — smeared, leaking, completely destroyed.