Spit in his face

You’re pissed, so you spit in the face of your dirty assailant.

As the leader wipes the spit from his eyes, you see his rage only magnified and feel his grip on your manhood. You realize that pissing him off while he’s holding your family jewels may not have been the wisest choice.

In a rage, the leader releases your sac, pulls out your cup and tears down your football pants so your whole package now dangles free.

“Now you’re really going to pay!” he says, grabbing one ball in each hand. “I hope you got some good use out of these, buddy, because they may not work again after I’m finished!”

Nothing could have prepared you for the agony you’re now experiencing. You feel his fingers deforming your once round organs, the inner membranes warping and straining to avoid damage, the cords that hold them to your body being stretched to their limit, the pain shooting up into your stomach.

You feel him really lay on the pressure and suddenly feel something in your left testicle pop, followed quickly by a similar pop in your right. “No, PLEASE!” you scream out.

You feel one last flex of his grip on your love spuds.

SPLURT! SPLURT!

Your balls are no more. Your flaccid cock shoots out glob after glob of your seed, wasting your last load on the pavement between your legs. The leader rolls the mush in your scrotum around for a minute and then drops it with a laugh. His lackeys let you drop to the ground.

You pass out from the inhuman agony, neutered, humiliated, utterly defeated.