You know I am a mutilate, slice and chop it off kind of chick but sometimes a shiny new implement is called for. This doesn’t happen often but when I see a pair of trophy balls there are decisions to be made on just how slowly I will annihilate them.
He had no fucking idea who he was dealing with. He thought I was a little bitch who didn’t know her way around an elastrator. He dared to think I was a fuck toy for him to use. Just because knives and blood are my preference it doesn’t mean I am not schooled in the art of castration. What is man but a stud who once he has outlived his worth castration is the only answer.
After some playful ball tugging, slapping and twisting, he was eager to be banded. Somehow he thought that would make our fucking better. Like a junkie when he ties off to get his veins popping out and then that rush when the belt is loosened up. He thought we were just playing. Maybe he was playing, but me? Not so much!
I don’t think he understood my little game of tease and destroy. His balls began to swell over the bands where my removing them would cause some nicks on those trophy balls. I do love that option but then again to leave them banded so no blood flows to them and they eventually shrivel and fall off. Decisions, decisions.
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Written By: Malaya Maxx
