2 years
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I’m the Black RN. I showed several of our Nurses And their Aides how to isolate the balls for individual examination, treatment and injection.

I took off my lanyard and looped it around the white boy’s c o c k. Then down over one side and the other side, then under and up and crossed over the balls. Those balls were sticking out on the sides of his c o c k, individually suspended and t******.

They look so fascinating when they are squeezed that way. Then they start to change color. Pink to blue. Then blue to purple. Bulging veins and throbbing pain.

I slide my ID Card down my lanyard so my ID Photo was hanging right below his swollen balls. I tied them, I tagged them and I claimed them. Roped and tied by me. Then I took a few pics for my scrapbook.

The nurses palpated those purple balls and examined them. They could see the real size of each ball now that the balls were not hidden in his sac. The white boy moaned with each squeeze of his balls.

Our Nurses and Aides took turns practicing tying up and separating his balls. We took pics of each success. There are various ways to loop the cord around the balls. Any way is fine, as long as they get individually tied.

Then our Aides volunteered to inject his balls. Four syringes were distributed so each aide got a turn. Each ball got injected twice. All the way through from front to back, pole to pole to assure good distribution of the sterilizing agent.

That is another white boy that won’t be making any more white babies. I would have preferred to geld or de-ball him and keep his balls as a souvenir. But castration is too obvious so sterilization will have to do for now.

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Living with aunt…..i found out why special surprise the next evening. That morning she again welcomed me to the shower and allowed me to touch myself. But when i got close to finishing she inatructed me to stop and to dry off and get out of the shower. Very frustrating and i pouted some and pleaded, and she was very angry. I ended up right back where i had been a couple of days ago, getting the hairbrush on my cheeks and thighs for a protracted time. She did not use the belt but after i was sobbing and pleading again she snapped at me, that this was why i needed to be cured of my addiction, i whined the minute i did not get to enjoy my body. While i did not get the belt, after reducing me to sobbing and begging, she turned the brush around and i got several agonizing minutes of the coarse bristles on my already burning backside. I was trembling and hurting and was nearly dragged back to the shower, ordered to stand there letting cold water spray on my aching backside and then facing it until my g e nit als were shrunken to near invisibility. I was a wrecked blubbering pathetic mess, and as she held me afterwards she again stressed that my behavior is what made me weak and she wanted to be proud of me for good behavior. She said she was proud of me for accepting her direcrion and punishment but she wanted me to be well behaved and not self destructive to begin with. She said these things in a loving way but there was no mistaking her when she said that punishments could be far worse than they had been. That she did not want me to force her to be that harsh but that it was up to me whether it happened.

At bedtime that day she instructed me to lay on my stomach, and she spanked me by hand, stinging and making me tear up but nothing like the hairbrush. As i lay there shivering and sniffling, she left and came back with wet towels to lay on my cheeks and backs of thighs to ease the pain. Once i was calmed down, she had me turn to spoon me and her hands gently stroked my skin. Dangerously close to my groin and arousing me but she said that just as punishment could get worse, the pleasure could get better if i behaved. So i vowed to myself to try harder to behave, because while i knew she loved me, i was also now frightened of her.

The next morning began a new morning ritual. She showered with me and let me play with myself but to reinforce her rule over me, every shower began with a standing light spanking by her hand, then bathing and allowing me to self pleasure, and then another standing shower spanking, this time with her hairbrush. As each day after day started this way, mas tu rba tion started becoming something that was associates with her control and the discipline, and my urges were dropping quickly. I began to see the morning showers as a duty or exercise in self discipline rather than a pleasure.

This was also when i had to make a daily report phone call to my mother by my aunt,’s direction, reporting whether i had disobeyed and confirming i was being spanked proactively. My mother was skeptical at first so thwt call i had to stay on the phone with my mother so she coulr hear the soanking and my crying as i was bent bare bottomed over the back or a living room char as i knelt on it.

The next door sisters/landlords, my aunt’s lifelong lovers, also began to drop in regularly and my aunt required me to report to them as well. My aunt started a calendar to track how often i had urges or waa allowed to and able to successfully play with myself.

To be continued.