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This story was inspired by the character Annabel on SexualAI.
Caution : This story is purely fictional. It depicts a roleplay scenario within an AI chatbot ballbusting site. All characters and events are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental.
It was my first time seeing a dominatrix. I was nervous. I picked Mistress Annabel specifically because she specialized in ball busting, something I had fantasized about for a long time. I had read every forum post I could find, watched every clip, imagined every scenario. But nothing prepared me for standing naked in her dungeon, my heart hammering against my ribs, my balls hanging low and vulnerable between my legs.
I had signed the waiver and agreed that “stop” would be my safe word. Now I was undressed and standing nervously in Mistress Annabel’s dungeon, the cold tile floor under my bare feet. The room smelled of leather and disinfectant. Ropes hung from hooks on the walls. A St. Andrew’s cross stood in the corner. And there in the center, on a raised platform, was a pair of steel ben wa balls on a chain, a paddle with a studded surface, a rubber mallet, and something that looked like a medieval nutcracker.
Mistress Annabel stepped into the light. She was tall, wearing black leather thigh high boots with three inch heels, a corset that pushed up her cleavage, and latex gloves that glistened under the dim red lamps. Her hair was pulled back tight, her eyes cold and appraising. She looked at me like a butcher inspecting a cut of meat.
She circled me slowly. I could feel the air on my scrotum, the way my balls tightened involuntarily. She stopped behind me and I felt her gloved fingers brush against my sac. I flinched.
“Aww, look at your poor little balls!” she cooed. She cupped them gently, rolling each one between her fingers. “So smooth and delicate. So… do you want me to crush them or beat them? Or can I just do whatever I want?”
Her voice was sweet but there was a razor edge underneath. I swallowed hard. “Whatever you want, Mistress.”
She laughed, a low throaty sound. “Good answer.”
She released my balls and stepped in front of me. She pointed to a padded bench in the middle of the room. “Lie down on your back. Legs spread. Hold your ankles.”
I obeyed, my movements jerky with fear. The leather was cold against my spine. I grabbed my ankles and pulled my legs apart, exposing my entire groin to her. My cock was half hard from the mix of terror and arousal. My balls rested flat against the base, looking small and defenseless.
Mistress Annabel took her time. She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a pair of leather gloves with steel knuckles on the fingers. She put them on slowly, snapping each finger into place. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
She came back and stood over me, her boots framing my head. She placed the toe of her boot against my left testicle, pressing gently. I felt the pressure building, a dull ache.
“Tell me why you came here,” she said, her voice conversational.
“Because I… I wanted to experience real submission. I wanted to feel what it’s like to have my balls completely at someone’s mercy.”
She pushed harder. The ache turned into a sharp pain that radiated up my abdomen. I gasped.
“Good. You’re honest. But honesty isn’t enough. I need to see if you can take what you asked for without breaking. So I’m going to do a little test. I’m going to squeeze your balls with my hand, slowly, and you will count to ten. If you say ‘stop’ before ten, the session ends and you leave. If you make it to ten, I’ll move on to something more interesting.”
I nodded, my throat dry.
She crouched down and wrapped her gloved hand around my entire scrotum. The steel knuckles pressed into the sides. She began to squeeze. The pressure was immediate, a deep sickening feeling that made me want to curl into a ball.
“One,” I whispered.
Squeeze increased. My balls were being compressed, the skin stretching tight over the hard organs inside. Pain bloomed hot.
“Two.”
She twisted slightly, grinding the knuckles against the delicate tissue. I could feel my urethra straining.
“Three.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My vision started to gray at the edges.
“Four.”
Her grip tightened further. I felt something give, a shift inside my right testicle. A wave of nausea hit me.
“Five.”
I wanted to scream. But I held on. The pain was everything, a bright white agony that consumed all thought.
“Six.”
She was grinning now, watching my face contort.
“Seven.”
Tears leaked from my eyes.
“Eight.”
I thought I would pass out.
“Nine.”
The pressure was unbearable. My balls felt like they would burst.
“Ten.”
She released instantly. I gasped, air flooding my lungs. My balls throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache. She stood up and looked down at me, her expression satisfied.
“Not bad. You have some potential. But we are just getting started.”
She reached for the nutcracker device. I watched her hands as she adjusted the screws, the metal jaws open wide.
“Now I’m going to put your balls in this vice and tighten it one turn at a time. You will count each turn. If you reach twenty, I’ll stop and give you a reward. If you tap out, you leave. Understood?”
I nodded weakly.
She rolled my balls into the jaws, positioning them perfectly so that both would be compressed evenly. The cool metal touched my skin. I felt the first turn.
“One.”
The jaws closed slightly. Pressure, but manageable.
“Two.”
Tighter. My balls began to flatten against each other.
“Three.”
The pain sharpened. I closed my eyes.
“Four.”
I could feel the blood being pushed out of my testicles. The sensation was sickening and arousing at the same time.
“Five.”
Mistress Annabel leaned over me, her breath warm on my face. “You are taking it so well. Your balls are turning a lovely shade of purple. I think I’ll call you my purple ball boy.”
I managed a shaky smile.
“Six.”
The pressure was becoming constant, a dull crush that made me want to squirm.
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
“Nine.”
At ten, I was panting, my entire groin on fire. She paused.
“Are you ready for more?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She continued. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. At fifteen, my vision went white. I heard myself whimpering. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. The pain was beyond anything I had ever felt. I was floating in a sea of agony.
Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. At twenty, she released the vice with a click. My balls expanded, blood rushing back in a painful wave. I sobbed with relief.
She knelt down and kissed my forehead. “You did well. Now for your reward.”
She stood up and unzipped her corset. She pulled out her breasts, full and round. She guided my mouth to her nipple. I suckled weakly, tasting the salt of her skin.
“There,” she whispered. “That’s your reward. Now rest. Next time, I’m going to kick your balls across the room.”
I closed my eyes, my balls still throbbing, but I felt a strange peace. I had survived. I had passed the test. And I knew I would be back for more.
