Beatrice Removelle was the most unusual girl I’d met when I changed colleges. She was very attractive with a pleasant personality, but no guy ever went anywhere near her. She had a reputation. A very unusual reputation.
Others had privately given her a nickname: One-Ball Betty. The word was that every boyfriend she’s had in college–although no one could actually ever name one–came out of the relationship missing a testicle. So I tried hard to find more proof before deciding to hit on her, just to be safe.
We started dating, very casually. She was delightful to be around and very sexy. But we would only make out on each date. One night, Betty invited me into her apartment after we’d been out to dinner. As had been our routine, we started making out, only this time, I managed to get a hand (briefly) down her pants before the focus ended up on me.
Betty had her hand in my pants and was fondling, caressing and lightly squeezing my balls while we sucked face. It felt good, yet hurt a little at the same time. I’d never had that kind in testicle attention before and became quite aroused. She unzipped my pants just enough to get her second hand on my shaft. While continuing to make out while she was completely clothed, she proceeded to jerk me off to an orgasm, while squeezing and pumping my testicles. It was a strong, intense orgasm.
“You like having your balls played with, I see,” Betty noticed.
“No girl has ever handled me like that before,” I said.
“Ah, well I’ve handled many men’s balls. That’s my thing!” she boasted.
“You must’ve figured I’d heard that before,” I offered.
“Well, you came onto me. So, obviously you were curious.”
“Yes, but only after I figured the rumors couldn’t be true,” I said, figuring she’d know what I was referring to.
“Rumors?! What rumors?! What are people saying about me?!”
Her whole demeanor changed. It was like she was almost pissed off.
I sheepishly responded like I was confessing.
“Geez, Betty. I figured you knew. Guys call you One Ball Betty. They say your ex boyfriends are half castrated.”
“Oh, that. I do have a castration feh…I mean testicle fetish” she interrupted herself. “I do like to completely expose a mans’ testes. I do yearn to see testicles completely naked, completely uncovered.”
“Ah, oh, is that all. Wow, I thought…guys think, you actually castrate…this is embarrassing…you must’ve heard some of this,” I was stammering to explain.
“Well, I don’t do it myself. If that’s what you’re asking. I only know how to expose them. I only know how to undress the testicle. You know, take it out and expose it.”
Somehow, I was getting the sick feeling in my stomach that we were talking about two different things.
“Wait, what? You mean naked balls? Like taking them out of their underwear?”
“No, silly. I take balls out of their sac.”
“I’m really confused as to what we are talking about,” I said, as my heart was now pounding.
“Sit back down. We’re going to watch some videos. Then you’ll understand.”
I tried not to show any emotion because now I was seriously scared of this 110 pound woman. My chin dropped and I gasped at what I was watching on video before my eyes.
Apparently, there is a femdom fetish club where men are drugged and bound. Then their nutsack is slightly slit open. Next, their testicle gets squeezed out through the tiny opening leaving the man’s ball to just hang there out in the open. It’s what Betty referred to as undressing a testicle. It’s a fetish term for exposing a man’s ball out of its nutsack. Femdom women take video and pictures of these naked testes and post them on nakedtesticle.com.
Well, I’m no dummy. This looks just like the maneuver that happens just before castration, too! It was all making sense now. Her nickname One Ball Betty came clearly into focus. Although it wasn’t clear if the final step…castrating the ball…was part of her fetish routine.
But what wasn’t in focus was my head, which was getting groggy. I was thinking I better get out of there before I found out firsthand what her intentions were. Then, I recalled the drink Betty fixed me and wondered if I had bbeeeeeennnn…
I passed out.
I woke up at 6:37 a.m. in my own apartment with little memory of the night before. I remember Betty cranking on my balls and jerking me off. I remember her serving me a drink. And watching a video…I think. I suddenly reached for my scrotum and palpated my testicles.
Whew! My balls are there! But on further inspection I felt something strange. What’s this tiny cut? Weird.
I went to the bathroom and turned the lights. If I wasn’t mistaken, there were two tiny stitches on my nutsack. Buried in my pubic hair, it was hard to tell. But the area was tender and something new was there. It felt like stitches. What the hell? I texted Betty.
‘Beatrice, WTF?!’
‘Who is this?’
‘Very funny. You goddamn know who the fuck this is!’
‘Brad? Johnny?’
‘Really? Fuck You! Did you drug me and cut my scrotum last night?!’
‘Yes, yes, actually I did. I would’ve asked for your consent, but you would’ve said no.’
‘How do you know what I would say?!’
‘You would have said yes to me cutting your ball sack?’
‘Fuck, I don’t know.’
‘That’s why it went this way. I knew you wouldn’t agree.’
‘What did you do to my balls?!’
‘Nothing. I just looked at them. Don’t you remember the videos I showed you? The website?’
Shit. I kind of could yet couldn’t recall what she was talking about.
I immediately started doing internet searches and landed on a website called, nakedtesticle.com that made me nauseous. The femdom fetish club where bound men have their testicles surgically exposed and dangling out in the open to be filmed and photographed. The site calls the activity ‘undressing a man’s balls,’ and has plenty of fans posting their work.
Shit. My heart was racing. I texted Betty.
‘Beatrice! Did you undress my balls?! You have to tell me!’
‘Yes. It was awesome!’
‘DID YOU POST IT on the internet?!’
‘Not yet, you’re in the queue.’
‘You don’t have my consent!’
‘Don’t be silly, no one can tell it’s you.’
Shit. Shit. Shit.
‘Beatrice, you took this video while I was drugged. You have to destroy it!’
I asked her what she wanted from me. I was getting desperate. She said if I came over Friday night, we could discuss this. I reluctantly agreed. In the meantime, she’d contact nakedtesticle.com site admin. to pull the video down.
I was stone cold sober and brought my own water bottle. I wasn’t going to end up in a compromising position this time. But when Betty opened her door to a full room of her girlfriends, I could see we weren’t going out on a date. What the hell were all of them doing here? They were her insurance plan; that’s how she put it. But I wasn’t sure how I would negotiate the return or the destroying of my naked testicles video in a front of a room filled with hot women.
It didn’t matter, I’d soon find out. I got played. Swarmed actually. The women wrestled me and stripped me. I was completely naked and bound before I had any idea of what was happening. I was pleading now. Almost crying.
“So you are here to negotiate?” Betty asked in front of everyone.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, trembling.
“Of course you do, silly. You have choices. One choice would be to pay for the return or the destroying of your video.”
“What’s the price?” I stupidly asked.
All the women left the room. I could hear them whispering in the hallway. They returned with a proposal.
“The girls are all here because they want to see a live demonstration. I’d destroy your video in exchange for your consent to having your testicles undressed in front of all of us. Right now. Here. No recordings. Just Live.”
That was a huge price, but I reasoned that I’d get out of this without any further damage and I’d be free and clear of any evidence of being with One Ball Betty! So, I consented.
The preparations began. The hottest woman there was an older chestnut-haired brunette who came over to me and attached a ball gag into my mouth. She whispered into my ear–“I’m Albura”–and that if at any time she thinks I’m becoming a problem, she’ll render me comatose. She dangled a baggie of soaked rags right in front of my face. Unable to speak, I nodded my head and noted to myself not to fuck with Albura.
Minutes later, Albura gave my nutsack an injection that left my entire area numb to any physical touch. Although there were no video recordings per our negotiated agreement, there were two cameras at varying positions connected to large TV screens and pointed at my groin. Everyone could see my humiliation. This couldn’t end soon enough, I thought to myself.
I heard the women discussing my sperm. For some reason, I was supposed to have my balls drained before we started. I recalled how Betty beat me off last Friday before drugging me. So, when Albura came up behind me and stuck something hard up my ass, I jumped.
“No problems,” she reminded me.
I nodded.
Albura worked this hard plastic phallus up and around my ass. I couldn’t really feel anything but I could sense something was happening. I looked down to see a bead of sperm starting to seep out the tip of my penis. Someone had put a dinner plate on the floor below, so clearly this was part of their plan. I noted the cum droplet was sperm. Cloudy white sperm; it wasn’t precum.
It was very weird. I was slowly being forced to cum, yet I wasn’t having an orgasm. Dollop after dollop of milky sperm slowly dribbled out of my penis head in chunks and just fell to the plate on the floor below. There was like a minute between each sperm chunk. I wasn’t having an orgasm as it took maybe 15 or 20 minutes before I was completely drained of my cum. And I was not receiving any pleasure. My female audience sat captivated watching me and the TV screen as Albura humiliated me into cumming without an orgasm.
Betty came over next. After sterilizing the area, she snipped open the two stitches from before and re-cut the slit in my scrotum. I couldn’t feel anything and only glanced at the TV screens while praying for this to come to an end.
Betty was talking to my ball.
“Come on little fella! Don’t be shy. Oh, you are a slippery little one aren’t you? Ah, there you are. Poking your shy little head out. Come on out, now! Show everybody what a cute little teste you are!”
And with that she coaxed and squeezed one testicle of mine completely out into the open. I looked up and saw my naked ball on screen, hanging by its cord. Its lifeline. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. But according to nakedtesticle.com, that was the whole fucking point. Debasing a man down to his naked–or undressed–testicle.
I didn’t realize that we’d go through this routine three times. First, one testicle. Next the other testicle and then third, both of them at the same time. When both balls were returned safely and snugly to their warm and comfortable home, I was ready to get stitched and get the fuck out of there.
But the hallway whispers returned. What now? Surely, we are finished.
We weren’t. Albura took Betty’s place. I heard her whisper something about ‘the smaller one’.
“We all agreed on the smaller one, right?”
I guess they all wanted to take one more look because Albura efficiently produced the smaller teste right back out into the open. She looked to the crowd and started to explain.
“To truly see a naked testicle, you actually need to take off the final layer covering it. It’s called the Tunica Albuginea. Think of it as testicle panties. It’s a thin layer of skin. In my opinion, a testicle is not truly naked until it is undressed from the Tunica Albuginea.
Everyone vigorously nodded their heads in complete agreement.
And with that Albura took a small pair of surgical scissors and cut the sheath of skin covering my ball right off and squeezed it fully into the open.
“Now it’s naked,” she beamed.
The testicle was glistening and now truly nude. I started to wonder if I should be worried. Like how does that sheathing heal? The women were gasping and begging to take pictures.
“No photos! We made an agreement.”
I started to get really confused when Albura began to tie up the testicle cord with stitching thread just above the dangling naked ball. What would she do that for? Everyone could see what she was doing. Maybe this is to repair the sheathing? Suddenly, it didn’t feel like we were playing naked testicle anymore.
When Albura tied the cord a second time an inch above the first tie off, I lost it. I tried to break through the leather bonds strapping me down at each limb but could barely move. My brain just figured this out. She was preparing to cut off my smaller testicle. That’s what the discussion was about. The smaller of the two balls I currently owned was about to be permanently removed.
Albura slowly rose to a standing position and whispered that If I misbehaved any further, she’d put me under.
“And then you wouldn’t be able to watch the show!” she teased.
I couldn’t fucking believe it. How fucking stupid am I? I’m looking at this large TV screen and I can see my naked testicle, dangling from its lifeline and every vein along its cord is turning blue. Albura has tied off the cord in two places and all the mechanisms are in place to just cut the cord. Remove my ball. Half castrate me, without my consent.
Deep down I was hoping that this was all just a threat. That the girls were just fucking with me and this horror would stop at any moment. And what a laugh everyone would have, at my expense. That this was just a joke and soon be over.
I was right about one thing. It would soon be over.
When I saw what looked like a baby food sized jar filled with a clear liquid in it, I started crying. This, of course, was no joke. No laughing matter. One Ball Betty was living up to her nickname. She was going to get one of mine. She had the collection jar it was going to be stored in. One of my balls was about to be castrated.
And just as Albura pulled a scalpel from her purse, Betty came over and held her phone right in front of my face to provide proof that she was deleting my naked testicle video. A deal is a deal, she said. There is no longer any evidence of any testicle experiences at my place. None. Zero evidence.
The scalpel was so sharp it cut through the cord in less than two seconds. And at that moment, my body was in one place and my testicle was in another. Albura’s hand, to be exact. And seconds later, with Betty’s assistance, in its new home. A baby food jar. My smaller testicle now lived in a baby food jar. And I had to watch the whole fucking thing. And so did Betty. And so did a bunch of her friends. They all knew that she now owned one of my balls.
