Growing up in England, I used to play a lot of tennis. Every year we have the Wimbledon Tournament and it used to really inspire me. Once in a while, we’d also have a really beautiful British summer. I’d dress in my shortest white skirt and hit the tennis courts every day. I still like to play in the summer, although I rarely manage it more than once a week. It’s hard to find a good tennis coach these days. I caught my last coach sniffing my panties in the changing room and had to punish him with an hour of cock and ball torture!
I was already unhappy with my coach’s attitude and his laziness and was thinking about dropping him. Things came to a head when I walked out of the shower after a hard session on the courts and discovered that the wretch was also a complete and shameless pervert.
I stood there, wrapped in just a flimsy towel, and gaped as he wanked himself through his tennis shorts. His nose was deep in my not-so-fresh knickers and he’d clearly been playing with my sports bra too. For a moment, I was too shocked for words. I thought of all the perverts who’d sent me money when I was selling my knickers during my college days. But this dirty fucker wanted them for free. That’s when I really lost my temper!
I ran over and slapped him hard across the face several times, cursing and shouting as I beat him. He cringed and tried to ward off my slaps, begging me not to make a noise. The coach covered his head with his forearms, so I kicked him hard in the balls. Then I picked up my tennis racket and thrashed him. He dropped to the floor gasping and looked like he was about to puke.
As I looked at my tennis coach, It surprised me that he still had a hard-on. Hmm… this was suddenly interesting. There was a broom propped against the changing room wall. I unscrewed the wooden handle and caressed it menacingly as I stood over the coach.
He looked up at me in a mixture of fear and excitement: we clearly had a new understanding. It was time for some cock and ball torture. I unwrapped my towel and stood naked in front of him. As he stared at my erect nipples and tight pussy, I suddenly whacked his erection with the broomstick.
I stepped forward and kicked him in the balls again with moderate force. Then I ordered him to take off his shorts. His cock was rock-hard and quite impressive. For a moment I wanted to straddle him and take it into my increasingly wet pussy. Instead, I leaned down and spat in his face, then I placed my toes over his balls and steadily pressed down. The coach gasped and writhed as I applied more and more pressure. Cock and ball torture is an art form and you have to know exactly how much pain to inflict to prolong a session.
I remembered that my sports bag had a detachable shoulder strap with metal clips at each end. I took the long leather strap and folded it like a belt. The coach reached for his cock again, so I lashed out and caught his nipple with the strap. He grabbed his chest in shock and pain, so I slashed at his hard-on as I laughed out loud. “You nasty little cunt!”, I whispered in his ear as he writhed in agony.
For the next half hour, I alternately whipped the coach’s cock and trod on his balls with my bare feet. Occasionally, I ordered him to masturbate to keep his sore dick rock hard. I’m very creative when it comes to inflicting pain, so when his cock was sufficiently red and raw, I took a bottle of perfume from my bag.
I sprayed the alcohol-based perfume all over his erection and his balls, taking special care that several drops went into his urethra. My pathetic tennis coach writhed on the floor, yelping in agony as the perfume burned his raw and bruised equipment. I slapped hard him across the face again and tied his balls in some catgut from a broken racket. Then I ordered him to put his shorts on and wait by my car. The coach was overdue for a visit to my basement.
In need of a little Cock and Ball Torture? Punishment for your perversions or just because you like it? If CBT is your thing, grab that cheese grater and pick up the phone…
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