She undid his belt with a clink of the buckle and pulled his jeans down. Worming then off his feet she flung them into a corner. She grabbed the band of his boxers and slowly, savouring the moment, peeled them down his legs. He was shaven thank God! His two little man eggs lay snugly, tight against his body. His flaccid penis hung to one side. 


She pulled a roll of duct tape off the shelf and with difficulty wrapped it around him several times, taping his penis to his chest.  When his shirt was off and forgotten she pushed his hairy legs wide apart so each calf hanged off either side of the work bench. Using nylon ropes she bound his ankles to the short legs. Once she did the same with his arms his was fully tied. Limbs tied down off the side of the work bench. Luckily it was just long enough to fit his head to his arse on.


The light overhead hummed as she moved a tripod and set it up recording his face. She also had set a go pro in the wooden rafters, zoomed in on his unaware testicles. Their brutal demise caught on film for her to finger herself to later. There was something so primal about it all, she felt as she licked her lips, salivating at the idea of what she was about to do next. The only item of clothing she wore other than a black mask covering the top half of her face was an oversized shirt. She would need access to herself for the ultimate experience.


*spshhhhhh*
*patter patter patter*


She poured the water over his face. He awoke with a shout of surprise then a cry of fear as he found himself bound. A woman in a mask standing between his tied down legs. 


“What the fuck!? Who are you? Where am I? What the fuck!”

*drip drip drip drip*


“It doesn’t matter what my name is”
She answered.

“Only what I’m going to do to you”

He paled and his arms trembled. His eyes were wide. Goosebumps rose on his arms and neck. The look the woman gave him turned his lungs to ice and his stomach to  worms. 

“Wh w what are you going to do?”
He had never stuttered in his life.


She reached forward and clutched his bollocks in her hand. She looked him in the eye with cruel amusement. 

“Well, I’m going to castrate you”

Instantly his skin crawled and he wanted to rip it off. He forgot to breathe. More strength and power than he ever knew he had flooded into his limbs. He yanked and pulled. He forgot how to use his tongue, making cries and heaving notion as his limbs juddered as he tugged. 

“Listen to me or you’ll lose that cock as well”

With a chest full of ice and cold sweats running down his temples he hyperventilated and looked her in the eyes. 

“I’m going to take your balls into my mouth, and I’m going to chew on them, bite on them, nibble. And then I’m slowly going to start biting harder and harder until there’s nothing left of your manhood”

He had the same experience as a jump-scare. Your heart flashes and stops and it hurts. Your whole skin feels worn. You’re internally burning in the red as your organs try to catch up; simultaneously you feel ice water running through your veins. You’re going to be sick. 

Then he was flung out his bubble of stark panic by a sensation: her hot breath on his scrotum. He tugged and twisted desperately in the restraints, squeaking and crying out like a kicked dog. She was on her knees between his legs, her chin on the edge of the wood, breathing an inch from his most sensitive area. In a cherry cola coloured shirt she was the dragon from shrek: her hot breath shrivelling and withering all it touched. His meaty orbs rolled over in their loosening sac.