The story below is continuation for the story Ann's Wake
Same world, but Ann's POV this time.
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The waiting list for my services is a testament to the primal desire of men to be broken. We vetted the latest volunteer—a lean, desperate man who signed every waiver with trembling hands, consenting to be rendered useless by my body.
"Step forward," I commanded, my voice echoing in the sterile white bowl of the pit. I stood before him completely naked, my 1.76-meter frame a masterpiece of bronze, sculpted muscle. I watched his eyes widen, darting frantically over my form. He couldn't help but ogle the sheer scale of me; my thighs were thick, powerful pillars of strength that looked capable of crushing a skull, and my midsection was a washboard of hard, defined abs that rippled with every breath. Above them, my massive silicone breasts strained against the air, their sheer volume and heavy, rounded weight contrasting with the athletic hardness of my chest. My nipples were already hard, dark peaks of anticipation that seemed to beckon him even as he trembled in fear. He walked to the X-cross, his breath coming in shallow gasps, mesmerized by the sight of my wide, muscular hips and the deep, inviting cleft of my pussy. This time, I didn't give him a gag; I wanted to hear the exact moment his voice failed him.
Once he was strapped tight, his cock pulsing with a terrified, reflexive hardness, I stepped into his space. I didn't start slow. I launched a brutal, open-palm strike directly into his scrotum. The sound was a wet, heavy thud. The blow was so precise and powerful that it didn't just crush his balls; the shockwave traveled up his spine, hitting his solar plexus with the force of a sledgehammer. He tried to scream, but the air was knocked clean out of him. He collapsed into the straps, making only a pathetic, high-pitched whining sound, his entire torso cramping in a violent spasm.
I smiled, knowing my husband was behind the lens. I could practically feel his hungry gaze burning through the air, tracing the deep valley between my muscular glutes as I shifted my weight, my ass cheeks flexing and tightening with every predatory movement. I began a systematic assault on his groin to maximize the agony. I used my fingertips to dig deep into the soft tissue, twisting and pinching the testicles with sadistic precision, pulling them outward before slamming them back into his body with sharp, flicking strikes. I ground my knuckles into the sensitive skin, kneading his balls like dough, ensuring every nerve ending was screaming. Each strike, each crushing squeeze, sent fresh waves of agony through him, causing his lean body to jerk in uncontrolled spasms. He was a puppet, and I was pulling the strings of his pain, all while he stared up at my towering, muscular physique, trapped in a mixture of agony and lust.
"You're still hard," I purred, glancing down at his throbbing shaft. "Let's see how much more you can take."
I stepped back to create a runway of power. I wanted him to see exactly what was coming. I pivoted on my left foot, my right leg whipping around in a devastating, high-velocity roundhouse kick. As my leg ascended, I felt my obliques tighten and my glutes flex into rock-hard, bronze spheres, the muscles of my ass tightening and shifting with lethal grace. My massive breasts swayed violently with the momentum, a display of raw, feminine power that the victim watched with wide, terrified eyes. The arc of my foot connected squarely with his scrotum with a sickening, explosive crack.
The force was catastrophic. Under the immense pressure of the impact, the scrotum didn't just rupture—it burst open with a wet pop. The skin split wide, and the ruptured testicle dropped, though it remained hanging by a few shredded threads of tissue, a mangled, leaking ruin. I could see the white, stringy testicular tubules and thick blood leaking out from the organ, spraying the floor. He let out a strangled, guttural wail, feeling every single nerve in that ruptured mass screaming in agony as it dangled uselessly.
I stood directly in front of him, a one-nutted wreck who, miraculously, still held a massive hard-on. Just then, I felt my husband step up behind me. I felt the hot, blunt head of his cock pressing against the small of my back, his pre-cum smearing against my skin. He reached around, his large hands gripping my waist, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of my flanks, claiming me even as I claimed the victim. The sensation of his hunger behind me, while I dominated a broken man in front of me, sent a surge of heat straight to my pussy.
I leaned in, pressing the man's face deep between my magnificent, heavy silicone breasts, smothering his gasps with the scent of my skin and the sheer mass of my chest. While he was buried in my cleavage, I reached up and unfastened the strap on his right hand, freeing it.
I pulled back just enough to look into his glazed eyes. "I'll tell you what," I whispered, my voice dripping with cruelty. "I might spare your last nut if you can manage to cum right now."
I engulfed his remaining testicle in my palm, squeezing it just enough to keep him on the edge of agony. "Look at me," I commanded. "Look at the goddess who owns you. You are so lucky to be this close to me, to smell me, to see me naked while you wither away."
He began to wank frantically, his movements desperate and clumsy. Every contraction of his orgasm was a double-edged sword; the pleasure of the release triggered agonizing spasms in the ruptured side of his groin. He was sobbing, his body shaking with the effort. Behind me, my husband slipped his hand between my muscular thighs, his fingers diving into my soaking wet heat, rubbing my clit with a possessive intensity. I let out a deep, guttural moan of pleasure, my back arching against his chest, my massive breasts bouncing with the movement.
With a final, strangled cry, the man ejaculated. A thin, pinkish load of seed and blood sprayed outward, landing across my lower abdomen and splashing onto the back of my husband's hand. It was a pathetic, last biological attempt to claim a woman, a desperate spray of failing vitality that was utterly suppressed and overshadowed by my husband's raw power and dominant presence. He had aimed for me, but he was no longer a man capable of reaching the destination.
I smirked, looking down at the stain. "Surprisingly close," I mocked. "But close isn't enough."
As I reached down to finish him, the man let out a weak, pained whimper and his hand instinctively reached out, weakly grabbing my left breast in a desperate, futile grip of agony. I didn't flinch. I simply smiled and jammed my thumb deep into the remaining testicle, ripping it open with a violent, twisting motion. I felt the organ disintegrate under my pressure, completely destroying the lineage of my new eunuch in one ruthless act.
As the eunuch slumped into a state of total shock, my husband entered me from behind with a powerful, driving thrust. I screamed in ecstasy, my internal muscles clamping around him as I looked directly into the eyes of the fresh eunuch. I owned the eunuch. I owned every broken piece of the eunuch. I peaked loudly, my orgasm shaking my entire muscular frame, marking the eunuch as my loyal servant. I could already imagine the eunuch months from now, kneeling at my feet, holding the baby my husband was putting inside me at this very moment.