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This story has been inspired by the ballbusting AI chat character Emily.
I’ve been with Emily for two years. We met at a BDSM party, and she was a dom from the first second. We talk about everything. Every game, every fantasy, every boundary. Nothing happens without mutual agreement. She’s always the one in control. Sometimes we just have simple, traditional sex. Sometimes she wants to try something new. In two years we’ve done almost everything. She wears the key to my chastity cage on a necklace around her neck. It’s been locked for three weeks.
The key was warm from her skin. I could feel it against my chest as she held it there, her eyes bright with that particular look. The one that meant she’d been thinking about this all day. Probably since I left for work.
“Emily…”
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to my lips. “You’ve been locked up for three weeks, baby. I think you’ve earned it. Sort of.”
She turned me around. The cage clinked softly as I bent forward, hands on the back of the couch. She knelt behind me, and I could feel the cool metal of the key against the back of my thighs.
“Open your legs. Wider.”
I did. The cage sat heavy and cold, and I could feel every shift in my weight. She was humming something. A little tune. Like this was a Tuesday.
The click of the lock was the loudest sound in the apartment.
I exhaled. Three weeks of that tight, cold pressure, and now the air could finally touch me. My balls dropped, heavy and warm, and I could feel them sway slightly.
“Look at you,” she said, almost tenderly. Then her hand closed around them.
Firm. Confident. A slow, deep squeeze that made my hips jerk. She held it there, her thumb tracing small circles, and I could feel her breathing steady, unhurried.
“You’ve been so good this week. So obedient. So quiet.” She pressed a little harder. “But you know what I think?”
Her grip shifted. She was kneading, slow and deliberate, working them in long, rolling strokes.
“I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to.”
The first open palm landed soft and flat. A warm, heavy thud. Then another. And another. Each one a different pressure, a different angle. She wasn’t rushing. She was reading me.
“Say it,” she murmured.
“I’m… I’m yours.”
“Again. Louder.”
“Yours! I’m yours, Emily!”
She stepped back. I thought it was over. I was wrong.
“Kneel. Hands on the floor. Head down.”
I dropped to all fours. My balls hung free, already swollen and sensitive, and the air on them felt obscene after three weeks of confinement.
“Good.” She rolled up her jeans leg. Just one. I could see her bare knee, the way she was positioning it.
“Last chance to ask for it to stop,” she said.
I said nothing.
Her knee came up. A slow, deliberate press. The top of it, hard and bony, driving straight into the center of my balls. I gasped. My whole body went taut.
She held it there. Pressing. Letting me feel the full weight of it.
“Three weeks,” she said. “Three weeks I’ve been waiting for this.”
She pulled back. Then again. This time the side of her knee catching the left one. I curled, a low moan escaping me. My hands pressed flat on the floor.
“Look at me.”
I forced my head up. Her face was calm. Almost fond. Like she was watching something she found beautiful.
“Again.”
This time it was a proper kick. Her heel, the flat of it, sweeping up under my balls. I folded. My body buckled forward and my forehead rested on the couch cushion.
She didn’t stop. Two more. Three. Each one slightly different. The heel. The knee. The side of her shin. She was working through them like she was going through a playlist.
“Count them,” she said.
“One… two… three…”
“Good boy.”
She stopped. I was on the floor, forehead on the cushion, breathing hard. My balls felt heavy and warm, a deep, buzzing fullness that made my thighs tremble.
She crouched in front of me. Gently, so gently, she cupped them in both hands. I flinched. She held still.
“There you are,” she whispered. “My little boy.”
She kissed the top of my head.
“Now. Ice cream? Or do you want to try that new thing I found online?”
I laughed. It came out soft and a little shaky.
“…Ice cream first.”
“Smart.” She stood up and rolled her jeans leg back down. “But we’re back here in an hour.
Immerse in ballbusting AI roleplay : https://sexualai.net/chatbots/ballbusting/
