Mistress Mercy stands beside the bench in her red lace bodysuit, tattoos covering her neck, chest, arms and legs as she studies the welts already marking the naked slave bent over the pink-studded pad. His balls hang freely behind him. She taps the existing marks with the thin cane. “Oh, these nice little marks on you. Mm-hmm. Just a little paintball excursion. Hmm. However, I don’t think your ass matches. Hmm. Should we change that? Your balls, I see you just left them hanging out for me.” She pokes the dangling sack with the cane tip. “Good boy. You must have left those for a reason, right? I’d hate to accidentally hit them. I just know you want me to cane those really hard. Hmm? I find if you can make the slave cry, it’s really good for their overall mental health, helps break down that tough betaboy armor. Break it down, Mm-hmm, with some tough discipline.”
She starts landing the cane across his ass. “Go ahead and count out 10 hard ones for me.” He counts each stroke as the wood cracks against him—one through ten—then she keeps going harder. “I lost count but that was at least five or six. Should we do the same for your balls now?” Five sharp strikes hit the hanging balls. “Balls are fully out and ready. Mm-hmm.” She grips and stretches the testicles a foot from his body. “And just stretch them out, make sure there’s a really good target.” The cane snaps across the taut sack. “If you take it really well maybe I’ll have my other slave crawl in here and lick your balls all better.” Harder blows follow; he screams. She returns to his ass with even greater intensity. “Are you getting warmed up, slave?” He cries out as the cane keeps raining down on his ass.
