ADDITIONAL TAGS: Busty Women interrogators, fantasy clan conflicts, Hanging Bondage, Ball Grabbing, Ball Boxing, Ball Kicking, Talks/Threats about Castration, Implied Rupture, Forced Orgasm, Power Play
— - —
Capital Malorria, Nakao Second Estate, Training Room 5
When I can’t sleep, I train. To stay sharp. For the next mission…
The windowless, all white, training room breathes with one soul tonight. The lights are on a timer system, flickering between heartbeats.
They click on and there’s a beat. Sharp curved steel flashes in a few, fast, practice swings.
Swish Swish—SLASH!
The lights flicker…then they’re off. Complete darkness. An endless void.
Vwhizzz!
That’s the sound of whirling, targeting machines. Slow, cutting, killing machines that lock onto their target from all sides.
“Come on slick…faster.”
Talking to herself in a focused sigh, Kisaki Nakao, twenty-eight with something to prove, moves alone in a black sports bra that clings to her sweaty-slick D-cup boobs. Alternating her weight by bouncing on her bare heels to maintain a rhythmic, spring-like tension in her upper calves, the movement sends a heavy sway through her restricted chest and strong thighs.
When you’re a Nakao, you grow up hearing about a silent war. A war where humanity’s best face against Bustia’s worst nightmares. Humans vs them…the demons who pretend to be our allies. And how it’s our duty to make sure that war never comes to overtake us. By fixing the world’s monster problems…Permanently.
She’s wearing dark plum, baggy, training pants that are cinched at the ankles. Purple-black leather, fingerless, gloves run up her thin but strong forearms with loose strapping belts hanging like tongues, drawing attention to the two large puncture scars denting across her hip and abs.
They came from an Oni man who’d speared her with his horns on her first Bikazumi ambush mission…so she made sure she walked away from that fight with his ruby red scrotum dangling from her clenched fist…
I’m here to win that war. By any means necessary.
Her special Hexx Katana, Hakai - beautiful red diamond-patterned cord wrapping for a tough and snug two-handed grip, with a black reflective blade - swirls in circles between her strong fingers on her left hand as another click sends goosebumps up her neck.
Shunk! Shunk! Shunk!
Shurikens spit from the practice machines. Three from the front, two from blind spots from behind. Kisaki’s wide crimson eyes pierces the night in that split moment. Bloody red moons swirling in inky black, an altered mockery of the Nakao clan’s signature Violet Shigan eyes, flare like fireflies.
Leaving two light trails in the dark as she shifts her body towards the shuriken's deadly path and Hakai comes up in a reverse grip.
Clang! Clang!
The two shurikens from behind split mid-spin and Kisaki drops low, rolling to avoid the other three from the front.
It’s a quick move she’d done before when being a city elite’s bodyguard. She’d chopped two spell enhanced, wind based, arrow heads just inchessss from her employer’s throat. She also managed to botch the assassin’s future career as an elven father when she decided to throw a kunai to the back of his fertile balls when he tried to escape.
Nailing the bastard's nards point blank, with such smoothness and lack of hesitation, earned her the nickname…Slick Kisaki.
When she kicks up on her left foot she hears a faint unhooking and sand bags swing heavy and fast from the ceiling.
Imagine the enemy. Go for their weak spots!
She meets the thick bags with a bloodthirsty Hakai. The katakana’s beautiful edge slices through one’s tied neck and dices a cross through it, ripping the sack into four separate pieces before it hits the floor. Another spins like a drill and she kicks it away after an upward-slice, sending its flying contents into the wall with a SPLAT!
The sound reminds her of the time she slammed her bony knee into one of the older Nakao boy’s, Leroy, legs and rightttt into his prideful nutsack. All for trying to pin her against a wall one day after practice to use his eyes against her.
For being “less than the others.”
They think I’m beneath them. But I lay down for no one. I prove my worth everyday.
But Leroy’s powerful Shigan eyes could only cross in agony when he felt her right knee slam his thick testicles so hard they splattered flat against his pelvis and became lodged in his lower abdomen. For three hours he cried that he’d never have a sex life again, all because he wanted to feel superior over Kisaki.
Even back then she didn’t feel bad when he sobbed to the Ball-Healing Cleric who managed to help coax his shriveling nuts to drop back down again.
Lucky prick…
That was another day she was reminded of one of Bustia’s many rules. If they have balls, you can beat them.
Despite the unwanted wobble of the contained titty bitties, the rest of Kisaki’s body has been sculpted with focused commitment and unrelenting drive. In the intermittent strobes of the failing light system, the pale skin of her chest flickers, revealing a few constellations of dark freckles that dusts her slick skin like spilled cinnamon.
They match the two beauty marks beneath her right eye, framed by her Jet-black, iron-straight, hair that falls past her shoulders like a sheath of lacquered silk, catching the room’s flickering lights with a dark blue mirror-like sheen.
Back when it was me and Jeremy…I had someone to watch my back. I had a…partner. An equal. Someone to love, I suppose. But when things got bad on the field and he lost his biggest nut, he changed. He became just another liar who swore they’d never leave my side and broke that oath…so now I only rely on who I can trust: Me.
She’s not just here warming up; she’s honing her testicle-shriveling-skills to shred and break the enemies spirits and bloodlines. Down to nothing.
It’s what I do best…I break all sorts of things.
Darts follow next. Kisaki backflips, lifting her boobs to her chin, and cuts the thin needle tips of a few of them before landing in a crouch to dodge the last dart. It buries itself into the wall where she would have been if she was slower.
But it’s still not enough…
Her angrily wipes sweat off her neck with her free hand and heaves. Not from exhaustion but from need. It’s never enough, she tells herself as a ghostly remnant of a briefing from two weeks ago adds itself to her thoughts.
She can still see the image of the three Squad Two warriors - men who had trained in the same dojos as her, men who prided themselves on the Nakao legacy - sprawled across the cobblestones of the Lower District like broken dolls.
They hadn’t been killed, which was the real insult. They’d been dismantled.
Apparently, if their incoherent moans and begging wasn’t inducing incorrect details due to sudden hysteria, they were bested by a busty half-orc brute with a lower steel jaw and a scheming tiefling woman partner whose eyes burned like sulfur.
They had surprised them. Ambushing the purple eyed men while they were heading back home from a meeting. By the time Kisaki had gotten there, answering a frantic backup request that had taken far too long to trigger, the fight was already over…
“Hel…p…please…my…my balls…”
“Auughh…Uugghh…Awwwhhh!””
“Fuck! T-That BITCHHH! Auughh I’m…uughh g-goddesses my n-nut! My Nuuuut! She Broke My Nut!”
“Ahhh!”
Kisaki yells in anger as she feels her wrists ache as she reinforces them with her purple hexx energy to twirl her katana faster, cutting two more longs into six pieces.
She had arrived just in time to find her cousins coughing and wailing over their shattered testicles and emasculating defeat.
Smart Bustia bandits will always aim to crush your balls if they’re chicks who think you’re an easy mark. A punch or a surprise kick to the hanging goodies from behind? You’d never see it coming.
Their weapons were discarded and their spirits were shattered completely by a small duo that didn't come from any of the Great Wars. They were just strong ballbusters…
Kamren Nakao lost both of his testicles. Same with Aoi. Only Steven got to keep one but it was his smaller left nut. I doubt it'll be enough to satisfy a guy like that…so I need to be faster.
The light buzzes and goes out. A smaller sand bag, around the size of a baseball, comes flying at Kisaki's temple. In that heartbeat of darkness, her red eyes burn like coals and she drops into the splits to spear her katana through the ball with a thrust.
If they won’t give you honor, take it. Daichi’s, her father, words loop when she pushes herself. Always!
“…yes sir.”
The door slams open suddenly, “Lieutenant Kisaki!”
Kisaki doesn’t stop moving as another volley fires and she rolls back to her feet and cuts left, right, then spins Hakai into a behind-the-back slash that splits a flying log in half.
The messenger flinches at the doorway.
“W-Whoa…!”
He’s younger, wearing dark circular glasses that help train his better clan eyes. He’s a proper Nakao compared to her. Despite being so weak.
“What is it Romeo? You know better than to step into my range.”
“S-Sorry lieutenant but this is important! I have a message from Bushi Captain Kimikooooahhhh!!!”
Shunk!
With a horrified and girly scream, Romeo’s curly hair almost goes straight as Kisaki’s last training shuriken comes flying for what hangs between his legs. The sharp spinning edges aim right for his babymakers. But at the last second he’s saved as Kisaki snatches the ball-targeting death star out of the air with two fingers.
one of it’s points barely pricks the outlined shape of Romeo’s fat left, scared nut.
“Ohmygods…”
“Relax. I got it.”
Romeo breathes out in relief but shakes as Kisaki tosses the star aside and pulls out her digital scroll to turn off the timers. The lights flicker on and stay on, framing her resting frown and exceptionally long mane that cascades down to her massive chest. Across her thick black brows, a heavy, blunt fringe is sliced completely straight, stopping exactly at her eyelashes.
It’s a traditional hime cut, a pristine look of a “well-behaved” girl, yet on Kisaki, those thick, motionless bangs function as armor, casting a permanent shadow over those different eyes that mask the cold calculation hiding right behind her complex, neutering thoughts…
“What’s the message?”
Romeo swallows, “Captain Kimiko, Benson, and Boshiro Nakao are finally back from the Bikazumi attack in Gunther. They...they’ve brought one back alive, Lieutenant.”
Kisaki’s head tilts. That perks her interest.
“Oh?”
“A blue-skinned Oni Male, ma’am,” Romeo continues fast.
“Queen Caspian is allowing us to hold him as a Nakao prisoner for the weekend. They’re getting Pit One set up now. But Captain Kimiko told me to bring you to the war room…Lord Tadashi has something he wants to say.”
— - —
Benson Nakao hates that he can’t sit even though he wants nothing more than to collapse. But the rules are the rules. Bushi Captains don’t sit when giving bad news…
“Before I get started, do you want the good news or the not so good stuff first?”
Six feet of scarred muscle, bald head gleaming under the room's low mood lanterns, Benson tries to keep a good atmosphere around himself as he wets his greying mustache and goatee with an ice pack. He holds it against his half bruised and dry bloodied face as his black-bladed collapsible spear, Kuroi Kiba, leans against the war table, still stained with his opponent’s blood.
But now, one section of the shaft is dented...
That hasn’t happened in almost twelve years.
He’s patched up now. Ribs wrapped beneath his half worn silver shitagi, the thin undershirt giving him room to stretch comfortably, despite it doing nothing to help his swollen left eye that’s bruised shut. But he still wears a smirk. Benson always has a smirk.
The tough bastard doesn’t know how to die but that doesn’t mean his report won’t piss people off.
“Don’t waste my time, Benson. Give it to me straight.”
Across the table sits Tadashi Nakao. The sixty-seven year old Clan Head scowls with burn scars covering his left cheek, neck, and shoulder. He’d lost his left arm in a fight with a Hexxborn General during the Two Year Shizuko War. He's an old school man who believes in upholding traditional values.
He’s even heartless when honor demands it.
His remaining hand rests on his wooden cane sword as his violet Shigan eyes stare coldly, even for a Nakao. Benson exhales through his nose.
“We encountered two of the three sighted Bikazumi’s in Gunther on the Finance Street. The silver circle were dealing with the bank bandits and the possible third Oni. We can’t confirm since we never saw them…”
Kimiko stands to his right, silent and bandaged as well. There’s bruises on her knuckles, her straight hair has loose messy strands, and her dark purple Kosode is ripped and hanging off one of her shoulders, barely staying over her C cup boobs.
Boshiro leans against the far wall, shaking but keeping his cool with his arms crossed and jaw tight. He's younger than the other two but is just as angry.
“However, the ones we faced seemed coordinated and cultured. Not like our usual, feral boys from Ka'Jarr.”
He taps his fingers against Kuroi Kiba's side to remember his fight with the black spear. The blue oni was young but he was one hell of a punk. Talked shit and packed it behind a good punch that came close to caving Benson’s chest in. He managed to block another one of those with his spear but if he’d been slower…
“Does that part really matter?” Boshiro asks, spitting at the idea of an Oni being “cultured” in any positive way.
“They’re all savages. Just because these ones didn’t wear loin cloths and knew slang doesn’t mean they’re smart or something special—”
“Quiet boy!”
Tadashi’s eyes glow and Boshiro sweats and straightens up. Benson gives Kimiko a look, knowing this wasn’t going to be a happy night for a particular someone…
“Continue.”
“…Uhh, well, our guy was a blue one. Male. A little over six feet. Must have thought he was a rockstar until we canceled his show. We have him in Bakudō restraints now. Sinthia is watching over him until your orders sir.”
“Kimiko already knows what I want done to that thing.”
Tadashi cuts into Benson for his slowness. Even though they were both older men, clearly only one of them had good patience.
“What about the other one?”
Benson’s smirk twitches, but it isn’t a humorous one.
“The Red-skinned one. She was a woman. From what Kimiko and Boshiro saw…she was faster than the rest of us. And smarter than the blue one.”
Tadashi’s knuckles whitened on his cane.
“Freddy engaged her first,” Benson continued. Flat. Report tone and speeding up.
“He’s good sir. Last I checked he was still very much alive. But well…he wasn’t good enough against her.”
Kimiko’s eyes close for half a second. Only Benson catches it.
“She popped his balls in her hands,” Benson says, shaking his head in sympathy. “Both of them. Would’ve taken his head next but Boshiro prioritized rescue and pulled him out before things got too hairy.”
“I at least got three of her ribs for the trade sir…” Boshiro adds but doesn’t look up. His knuckles were going white too.
“So we lost red,” Benson admits. “She fled down the underground sewer tunnels while Kimiko and I were managing to tag-team blue down. Red collapsed the entrance behind her before we could finish though. She was being smart.”
Silence. Then Tadashi speaks with a voice that sounds like an old matchstick. “Freddy Nakao is my grandnephew.”
“I know,” Benson says.
“He will never have children of his own….”
“…yeah, I know.”
“Yet you return with one prisoner?”
Benson meets the Clan Head’s violet glare but he doesn't flinch.
“We returned with a live Oni, Lord Tadashi. First one in six months. The Queen wants to know what he knows just as bad as we do. And I can tell you for certain, Blue knows the woman’s name. We heard him scream it when we chained him.”
That shifts the air and Tadashi leans forward.
“And?”
“Pan Yami.” Benson’s smirk came back, sharp. “He called her a betraying bitch. Meaning they’re at least close enough to be partners.”
Kimiko finally speaks up quietly, “Then Yami has a leash. Or a weakness.”
Tadashi stares at Benson for a long time. Then he nods, once.
“Acceptable. For now,” He turns his head towards the door, “Kisaki. Get in here.”
The door slides open and Kisaki steps in. With Hakai on her back and red eyes burning in the lantern lights, she looks like a training succubus hellbent on getting in the best revenge workout with nothing but her skin and steel.
Tadashi’s gaze lingers on her crimson irises with distaste. Then pragmatism.
“We have a monster’s best friend strung up and ready for you. A blue beast in Pit One,” Tadashi tells her with a hint of enjoyment in his tone.
“It walked into our allies' homes, broke one of our men, and took our kin’s future gems. How disrespectful.”
His one hand tightens on his cane until it creaks.
“I expect you and Kimiko to break him. I want this Oni to spill family names and anyone who’s done business with that red whore of his. I want him crying out locations and I want to know everything about this Pan Yami’s before her head is put on a goddamn pike…”
Everyone looked down as their clan head sighs and relaxes back into his chair. Exhausted.
“Is that all?” Kimiko asks before anyone else can make things tenser.
“If you can, learn any secrets regarding the Ka'Jarr’s Empire that’ll make Freddy’s sacrifice worth it. He may be blue but he’s still one of theirs.”
Kisaki bows low. Too low for a lieutenant to a clan head. Mocking, or promise.
“Yes, Lord Tadashi,” she says, “whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”
When she rises, her smile is all the answer he needs. Benson watches her go, then glances at Kimiko as she begins to follow.
“Try to leave some for the funeral pyre, yeah?” he mutters.
Kimiko doesn’t smile back.
“No promises.”
— - —
Nakao Interrogation South Wing – Pit One
The Pit Bays don’t echo thanks to the Sekki Stone walls eating all the horrible sounds that surround them. They eat the screams and even devour the idea of hope and mercy.
Kimiko enters first. No sound but the soft click of her straw sandals and traditional white, split-toe socks on tear soaked floors. Being a Bushi Captain at thirty-three lets you see a lot of things a normal warrior wouldn’t see if they stuck close to the inner kingdoms. But Kimiko has seen the aftermaths of the ongoing war people choose to ignore.
Hanging from the ceiling is their problem to deal with tonight. Kenji, the Blue-skinned Bikazumi. He’s somewhere in his early 20s. He’s muscular but lean and tall enough that his black painted toes almost scrape the floor despite being strung up.
He’s in black shorts that outline his hefty bulge without leaving much for the imagination. But that’s all they left him in. The rest of his “wear” are glowing Purple Bakudō enchanted wrappings that keep him dangling like a puppet on strings.
Binding sorcery into objects is often used to alternate someone’s hexx or soul energy flow. In this case it helps weaken a prisoner’s own unique biology with debuffing spells, like disrupting ki points, and flooding their systems with a muscle relaxant.
It makes Kenji’s stupid-durable Oni body feel like wet rope. And makes fighting back feel like trying to punch through a tank of syrup.
Both of his wrists are bound together and tied above his head. Tree trunk legs spread, his ankles shackled to floor rings even though he’s suspended midair like a piece of decoration. Nowhere to kick off. No leverage. Just him, the wraps, and gravity.
And of course, he’s confidently smirking.
“Well ain’t it my special night. It’s you, ain’t it reaper? Ms hotty. Didn’t think you’d miss me so much already.”
Kenji’s red orange eyes flicker over Kimiko’s bandaged body like a hungry stud. He still finds her sexy despite being in her clutches.
What a Cocky bastard, Kimiko thinks as she scowls and makes the two scars on her cheek stretch. Even while bruised, drugged, and wincing from Benson’s spear that took a chunk out of his side, he stays confident. Hell, even Boshiro’s gravity sorcery nearly pancaked him when we all decided to grab him together near the end. But he’s still okay?
Good thing she’s there to change all of that…
Kimiko stops ten paces out and lets her cold, violet and black swirling eyes bore into him.
“Kenji of no Bikazumi banner,” she says, strong voice somehow quiet and dangerous. It’s worse than being yelled at.
“We’ve checked with the guilds. You’re integrated, they say. Kingdom papers. Speaks common. Hell, you even skip out on paying taxes like an everyday thug.”
Kenji tests the wraps by subtly pulling against them one by one. They flare brighter and he winces, then grins again.
“What, do I have a fan club now? Heh, shoulda charged admission.”
“Seven Silver Circle Paladins are dead, five more in critical conditions with permanent damage to their testicles,” Kimiko continues. No reaction to the bait.
“Freddy Nakao…he’s family. And because of your friend, he’ll never be able to sire a child or his own. Or…have another orgasm again.”
Her eyes catch his enjoyment out of that last detail. Bikazumi. They’re cruel monsters.
“Sucks for him, doesn’t it?”
Kenji struggles but manages to roll his neck around to look at all the possible corners of the room, not caring about Kimiko’s rambling.
Humans love playing victims. Whining that they’re important because they’re so vulnerable and pure.
Paranoid and twisted is what Kenji would call them instead. But he wasn’t raised to fully understand the rivalry between Oni and Humans. He just knows he’s what they wish they could be, and nothing was good enough to match his strength.
When I get out of this, I’m making this Nakao babe regret kicking me in my balls earlier. It hurt bad too but I doubt she can pull that power out to nowhere again. Fuck…she looks like she needs a good dicking.
“You nearly killed my partner out there. Almost got me too. I’ll admit, you moved well.”
“Only nearly?” Kenji chuckles. “Shame. That big guy’s spear woulda looked good on my wall back home.”
“Yeah? Well, some of the other girls here have their own personal trophy walls too. Maybe I’ll give your blue berries to one of them if they come out intact after our talk.”
“…what did you just say—?”
Kenji feels his confidence shrink slightly just as Kisaki finally steps into the room and beneath the lantern’s light. Her crimson eyes catch the Bakudō wrappings immediately, turning the symbols on them from purple to red.
The slow, muscle numbing sensation suddenly changes and his body begins to sweat as the energy heats up.
“Eh? Hey…W-Who’s this? You’re sister?”
Kenji asks, instinctively sensing Kisaki’s hexx energy filling the room with theirs and having an effect on him. Kisaki doesn’t speak to him just yet. Instead she tilts her head and studies his sharp and long horns like a butcher eying a hog.
“Don’t worry about her. Worry about what I’m asking from you. We want Yami,” Kimiko snaps his attention back to her fierce gaze.
“The red one. Your partner. She runs while you hang? Doesn't seem fair. That can change.”
Kenji barks out a laugh as he sweats.
“Partner? Ha. Yami doesn't have partners. She has tools. Damnit…and looks like I’m one of the dull ones...”
His strength is being sapped out of him slowly but it’s finally reaching a tipping point. He’s now struggling to keep eye contact with Kimiko’s and this new girl's huge boobs without seeing double.
“You’re a talkative one,” Kimiko points out. “That’s useful. You’ll give us incriminating information about certain locations that we should know about. Any secret tunnels and safehouses. And any Bikazumi intelligence inside the Ka’Jarr borders, of course.”
“Tsk. And if I don’t?” Kenji licks his lower split lip. “Gonna let the half-blood play with me?”
Now Kimiko glances at Kisaki and gives her one nod. Kisaki steps forward. Nice and slow.
“The Nakao want to help heal this world. And we’ll chop every bad seed out of the ground for those results.”
Kimiko sounds convinced of her clan’s mission. Kenji realizes in this moment he may not be getting away from this one.
Not for a while….
“That’s s-stupid. You guys, healers of the world? Nah nah. You carry swords to cut down anything and anyone you don’t like…that’s just how humans are wired.”
“And you take anything you want because you believe strength outweighs all consequences. Anything smaller than you didn’t deserve to have a chance at all. Right?”
Kenji scoffs, “Is survival of the fittest a crime?”
Kimiko purses her lips together and nods, a little disappointed. There's no reasoning with the enemy.
“Okay let’s go ahead and make this simple. Right now I want to know more about this Pan Yami. My Lieutenant here, Kisaki…” she pauses, “has certain skills for when endowed prisoners are reluctant.”
Kisaki cracks her knuckles. The loose straps on her gloves slap against her forearms.
“Are you familiar with any professionals who specialize in Nutjutsu?” Kisaki asks, cracking a small grin with her white teeth. “It’s pretty easy to pick up on, even if you haven’t seen it before. Here, watch.”
She cocks her arm back.
“I’ll show you.”
Kenji’s smirk falters. Just a hair. Then his pupils shrink as Kisaki unapologetically rams her bony knuckles in between his dangling legs to clobber his sweaty, relaxing, blue balls with full force.
WHAM!
“Awwwhh!?”
Caught off guard, Kenji’s numb legs twitch and try to cross as translucent purple hexx energy coils around Kisaki’s right fist like liquid flames, reinforcing her punch’s strength to make his poor testicles suffer her sudden wrath.
“Whoa? Well hello there…big guys.”
Kisaki sounds impressed when she shakes her fist side to side to feel his fat Oni balls and soft cock roll around and push against her fist to stay whole.
“H-Hey! Fuuck! Wait—!”
Kenji’s eyes cross when he feels Kisaki pulls her fist away and cups his outlined orbs in both palms roughly.
“Kimiko,” Kisaki gives the two lemon size testes an uncomfortable squeeze to feel their toughness, “this one has some pretty big nuts.”
“Yes, I know. I tried to kick them into paste earlier but he’s tougher than he looks.”
The Oni prisoner tries to yell but instead he groans pathetically when he feels Kisaki’s fingers spread out and squeeze tighter, making her grip on his smaller left ball go from a five to a worried seven reallll fast while she rubs righty with a twisted playfulness.
“Nnngh!”
“You should have told me. I would have brought my nut-clippers. They’re both pretty thick.”
She looks up at her victim and feels a warm feeling cross between her legs when she catches him gulping in genuine fear. He’s no true Bikazumi warrior. He’s just a punk with too much in the sack.
“You’re right. The clippers would break those fat nuts down to size, wouldn’t they?” Kimiko thinks it over and then shrugs.
“Oh well. Guess you’ll have to keep doing it the old fashion way.”
“P-Please…Don’t!”
THUUD!
Kenji’s body seizes before he can finish. An even stronger left hook lands flush against both of his jumbo eggs with no mercy.
Crrrrrak!
Getting close to scrambling through their shells in just two punches, Kisaki pulls back on her strength as kenji’s mouth drops open and white pain grows up his clenching stomach.
“Auughhh!!!”
Overwhelming shivers make his body jerk as his thick and proud testicles are reintroduced to his pelvis after just crashing into it a few moments.
“Ooooh Nooo! Uuuuhhh Fuck!”
He can’t double over since the wrappings don’t allow it, so his unhappy spunk tanks are forced to take the full blow with nowhere to go. Ripples run across his black briefs like a stone dropped in dark water.
“Count it,” Kimiko says from the shadows. No emotion. “Every. Single. one.”
“Fuck You Bitch!”
Kenji forces a laugh and yanks on the wraps, trying to muscle his way out. Like he always does. He needs his hands on her now! But…Kisaki exhales and resets her stance before—
Thud! Thud! WHAMO
Right hook to fat lefty makes him jump. Left jab to swelling righty makes Kenji tremble and buck. But it’s the uppercut that warps both of his vulnerable balls into his throat and snaps his head backwards so he can scream like a girl.
“AIII!!! STOPPPP!”
She’s boxing his monster balls like they’re her personal punching bags. Each strike sends more purple like flame-ripples racing across his bouncing bulge and makes him drool in nutpain. The bindings eat the extra hexx flowing up his body and spits it back as internal resonance.
The damage is happening deeper. Muscle relaxant keeps him from tensing all the way and the wraps make sure he feels every millimeter of ball breaking impacts.
“You call me a half-blood but you don’t really know what that means, do you?”
Another two quick jabs to his left testicle almost sends Kenji’s lunch up his throat but he manages to keep it down by holding in his shrieks.
“I’m different because I don’t have the clan’s signature eyes,” Kisaki tells him as she watches his bulge shake and plops back down between his shaking thighs.
She circles behind him, red eyes targeting his hangers.
“So I learned other ways to make people see things. Through pain. Helps jog a lot of old memories. All their regrets. All their…secrets. Your girlfriend killed one of our best Nakao boy’s balls. You helped her ruin Freddy.”
“I didn’t do him in! Y-You can’t put what he lost on me!”
“Shut up. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. But what you should do is tell Captain Kimiko everything she wants to know.”
Kisaki fondles the bottom of his covered gonads with one finger and she hears him groan in pain.
“Ohhh fuckkk…”
“Or I show you why the Punishment Squad doesn’t need a blade to break a man.”
Kimiko crosses her arms beneath her boobs. “Last chance, Kenji. Where’s Pan Yami hiding? Talk.”
Kenji looks over his shoulder and then back at the captain. Violet eyes like winter. Red eyes like slaughter.
Then he spits at Kimiko’s feet.
“Do y-your worst, y-you…Freaks!!!”
Kisaki and Kimiko share a glance and smile.
“Sure thing,” Kisaki pats his butt and closes one eye to take aim. After all, she’s good at following certain orders.
Cruuunch!
Kisaki drives a drilling jab into the back of his sensitive cum stuffed balls like she wanted to make nut butter. The nausea licks up his long nutcords and sends acid into his stomach. His spine twists and his legs jerk in their shackles. Involuntary.
Kenji’s smirk is completely gone by now. His Jaw is opening and closing and more sweat runs blue down his temples like he’s standing over a bomb. The wraps pulse faster, fighting to keep his Oni durability suppressed.
“Feel it?” Kisaki asks, low. Almost kind despite the bolder breaking punches she’s slamming into his ballsack. “That’s your body remembering it can break.”
She steps back, rolls her shoulder, and drives another uppercut into both nuts with such clear focus and force that it lifts Kenji higher, despite the chains on his ankles. The purple Hexx flared bright, and the Oni boy chokes on a sob.
He finally breaks…
“Awwwwhhh! Okay OKAY! Pleaseeee! T-Tell Her To Stopppp! She’s Breaking My Balls!!!”
WHAP!
Kisaki aims for the vulnerable epididymis attached to the back of his reproductive organs. She’d learned from Kimiko that aiming for those bundles of tubes and nerves is more than enough to make a man or futa question their entire existence as the “stronger” sexes.
Squelchhhh!!!
“AHHH! SORRY!! IM SORRY!!!”
Neither Nakao cares for the man’s howling and begging. Surprising Kenji though, Kimiko walks forward and throws a standing split kick into his manhood, breaking his mind and sending his thick, eight inch, blue cock flying out of his shorts to hang over the lip weakly.
“Ooooohhhh!!!”
Shuddering from the reinforced Nakao Nut Kick his collapsing balls shrivel up and panic. Thinking this is the last chance they’ll get to spread their genes, they clench tightly and release a load.
Kimiko raises an eyebrow as the first rope hits the floor, but she does shift her weight with a practiced grace, stepping laterally to avoid the mess. She watches with a detached curiosity as the thick, pearlescent white globs keep erupting in rhythmic pulses, splattering against the cold stone of the interrogation room.
“Uuughghfuuuckk!”
Kenji crosses his eyes as pleasure tries to help with the intense pain but only gets lost between the throbbing aches of his balls emptying themselves.
It’s a pathetic display of biological surrender; the body’s final, desperate attempt to preserve its lineage while the mind was drowning in agony. Kenji’s voice has devolved from a scream to a high-pitched, rattling wheeze, his chest heaving in jagged bursts.
“Hm. What a waste.”
A cruel glint touches Kimiko’s eyes as she looks down at the mess. The sight of the proud, blue- brute reduced to a quivering heap, leaking his dignity onto the floor, is more satisfying than any confession could ever be.
For a Nakao in the punishment squad, the physical victory is merely a prerequisite; the true art lay in the psychological dismantling. She can see the exact moment his spirit buckles, the flicker of hope dying in his orange eyes as he realizes that these women don’t just want his secrets.
They’re in love with the process of breaking him…
“Alright,” he hears Kisaki’s voice still behind him and it makes his heart stop. He can feel her hand slide up his briefs leghole to tug on his saggy, swollen, balls that are hanging on by a thread.
“Warms up over. Now it’s time we finally have a nice chat. But if you’re not in the mood then you can say goodbye to your balls now. It’s your choice…”