She didn’t want to know what I looked like, and yet we were about to meet on a blind date. “Don’t worry,” She said, “I can spot a submissive man a mile away.” So I went to this trendy bar and waited. Unlike so many other Women, She didn’t invade the place. On the contrary: She seeped in like a sinister fog. She spotted me immediately, elbowed Her way towards me, grabbed my shirt and dragged me outside and into the alley across the street. They came from nowhere and were everywhere: eight, nine, ten Women. I looked over my shoulders to see if there was any light in the tunnel, but there were at least five of them behind me as well. They all started kicking, kneeing, slapping and punching me at the same time and I disappeared into a whirlpool of violence and was sucked down by the quick currents of Female power. They kicked me repeatedly in the nuts and punched me in the guts, till I begged them to stop. They did, but they took my pants and left me there in my underwear. Damned kinky!
She shook Her head and shrugged Her shoulders: “I’m not sure if you’ve got the balls for this job.” My heart stopped beating for a second, but I was quick to reply: “I’ve got concrete balls, you can build a theme park on them. Believe me; I’m the right man for this job.” She sighed and got up from behind Her desk. So I got up as well, thinking it was all over. I reached out my hand to shake Hers, but She grabbed me by the balls and squeezed. I screamed like a Wiener Sängerknaben and danced up and down in pain. She let go of my balls and pushed me against the wall. “Spread ’em!” I was only halfway the spreading business when the first kick came in with a vengeance. I staggered through the room like a knocked-up boxer, but a second kick was already on its way. Smack dab in the middle! I howled like a wolf and a third devastating kick sent me flying across the room. I crashed down on the floor at Her feet. She looked down on me with contempt: “What did I tell you? No balls.”
I’m a simple man (which is a pleonasm in itself) and I love the simple things in my submissive life. Whips and ropes are great, but the point-blank perils are equally beautiful: face-slapping, hair-pulling, kneeing etc. You don’t have to buy them, wear them or take them with you; they’re always there and free of charge. It hardly takes any effort and it’s over and done with in a split second. Although the running time on the receiving end is somewhat different of course.
I was at a party once and one of the Ladies thought it was a jolly good idea to do a Bell Ringing Competition. She wasn’t revering to the doorbell though, but to the carillon between our legs. Points could be earned by taking a man down in one fell swoop. There were twelve scrotums in the room that night and round midnight we were all ready to join the National Hunchback Society. There’s more to kneeing than meets the eye, my balls will vouch for that. Because it isn’t about speed or the power of the incoming knee; it’s about hitting the right spot. A fine one makes your legs feel like jelly; you’re trying to be the last man standing, only to find out you’re the first man landing. As we can see in the gallery, even Jennifer Aniston doesn’t shy away from it. And if Hollywood is ready to knee, then it must be the most normal thing in the world.