No One Will Save You
Goddess Tiff is over for some summer fun, and my loser puppy is about to provide the entertainment. Aww, what’s with the long face? Don’t you love being my punching bag?
We’ve already spent the afternoon beating your balls into a couple of grapefruits, but now we’re taking the fun outside. Your testicles are so swollen and tender that even the thought of another kick makes your stomach turn. And look at those bruises! We’re going to make those balls even BIGGER. Did you really think we were finished with you?
You reluctantly crawl over to us, dreading exactly what’s waiting for you.
“Spread your legs!”
I waste no time driving a few of my hardest kicks into those humongous swollen balls. CRACK! The pain shoots through you, and for a second you’re convinced those fragile little eggs are splitting open. You fold forward, collapsing from your knees onto the ground.
“Oh, come ON. Look at you! I barely even got started and you’re already falling apart. What happened to those tough balls you were bragging about?”
Goddess Tiff makes herself right at home and immediately puts your balls to work. I do love watching other women discover just how much fun my punching bag can be.
As Tiff’s sneaker connects with your bbymakers, a shrill “OW!” escapes your mouth.
“Did that seriously just come out of you?!”
“Since when do say OW? You’re supposed to BARK, stupid!”
Every time one of us tells you to spread your legs, you beg and plead, knowing how dangerously close those poor testes are to their breaking point. Your eyes dart between our feet, wondering who’s going to strike next. Maybe if you learned to beg a little better, we’d give you a moment to recover.
Another kick lands, turning your limbs to jello. You can’t stay upright no matter how hard you try, and you know we’re going to make you regret it.
You barely see it coming. A horrible scream cuts through the air. It takes you a second to realize it’s coming from your own mouth. You grasp at your balls to check that they’re still there. We burst out giggling.
“Look at the size of you! A grown man cowering from two lil girls. What a loser.”
“Stop trying to hide those battered nuts from us! What do punching bags do?”
“They stay STILL! ”
My knee connects with your balls, crushing them against your pelvis. The pain builds deep in your stomach, and you think you’re about to be sick. One hand covers your mouth while the other cups your broken balls.
“Hands OFF! What did I tell you about covering MY BALLS?!”
A hand pushes your face toward our filthy shoes.
“Kiss them, loser!”
You have no idea how you’re going to survive the rest of what we have planned for you.
With all that screaming, no wonder the cops got called on us with this one.