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She smirks, "Ready to play, pet?" as she lines up her arsenal. A rubber ball, a metal one, and his own vulnerable sack. "Choose," she commands. He hesitates, then selects the metal orb. Her foot connects, hard. He gasps, but holds back her name. She grins, "Good boy. Again." Each kick elicits a silent struggle, but he perseveres. Then, she switches to his real balls, the impact sending waves of pain and pleasure. He grits his teeth, fighting the urge to cry out her name, as she continues her sadistic, exhilarating game.