The Third Challenge
by Bastige


As soon as my roommate walked in the door, I walked passed him, not
bothering to look in his direction.

"Strip," I said peremptorily. "Totally naked."

"I KNOW," he sighed, exasperated. And he did, of course. It was what he
did every day these days.

"Don't backtalk," I snapped, and turned to stand there with my arms
crossed and hips cocked, watching him as he peeled off his suit jacket
and pants, and began to work on the rest. His face flushed with shame at
my gaze, and he turned his eyes down and away.

"You don't have to tell me every time you see me," he mumbled quietly.

When I heard that, I strode forward toward him. By now he was down to his
underwear. I didn't give him a chance to take them off himself, yanking
them down around his knees and making a grab for his balls with my other
hand. He popped his hips back, evading me, which made me even more angry,
so I slapped his face, not too hard, and made another grab for his balls,
this one succeeding. He grabbed my wrist with both hands, a move born of
instinct, and I softly kneaded his testicles in my hand. His dick flopped
limply onto my wrist.

"Take your hands away," I ordered. His face a mask of fear and shame, he
did as I ordered.

"Your underpants are still around your knees," I noted, squeezing
slightly. "Take them off."

As I held him by the less glamorous part of his manhood, he bent to
remove the last vestige of his clothing. As he did so, his penis trailed
lightly up and down my arm. I suppressed a little internal shudder of
pleasure. He did have a nice one, I thought.

"Straighten up and look at me," I commanded firmly, and he did. At this
point he was obeying not because of the terms of our bet, but because of
the presence of my hand around his most vulnerable part. He was
remembering the time he had challenged me two weeks prior, when I had
seized him in this same grip and made him endure the worst agony of his
life. He had walked with a limp for a week after that. After two weeks,
though, his macho-man personality had started to creep back in, and I was
more determined than ever to put a stop to it.

"Remember what happened last time I grabbed your balls?" I asked, seeing
him wince as I said the word "balls." He didn't answer.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," I growled. "Do you remember what
happened?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Did you cry?" I asked. No answer. I gave him a slight squeeze.

"No injuries!" he burst out. "That's the deal, you can't do anything that
injures me."

"I'm not going to injure you," I spat, rolling his balls around in my
hand, with what I'm sure were mildly nauseating results. "I'll be gentle.
Now tell me, when I squeezed your balls in our last fight, did you cry?"

"Yes!" he almost shouted, turning to look me in the face defiantly. "Of
course I cried, any man would cry if you squeezed his fucking nuts! Yes,
I fucking cried, are you happy?"

"Hey," I said, releasing his nuts and smiling, "No need to cry about it
now."

"There should be something in our deal that says you can't just squeeze
my nuts whenever you feel like it," he grumbled, massaging his gonads,
even though it was his pride that had been hurt far worse.

I shrugged. "Feel free to challenge me any time you like to change the
terms of the deal," I said.

What he said next surprised me. "OK," he said, "let's do it. I challenge
you. Get YOUR fucking clothes off."

I turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Really?" I asked. "After I just
reminded you how I made you cry last time? You must be suicidal."

"Strip," he insisted. "Come on, no backtalk!"

I laughed, and went to the living room and began to strip. He watched me,
one hand unconsciously cupped over his groin, holding (as it were) his
wounded pride. I gave a little smile as I slipped off my bra, letting my
girls bounce free. I wiggled for him as I rolled my red panties down my
legs, feeling no shame whatsoever as he stared at my shaved crotch. I'm
hot, and I know it. Why should I be embarrassed getting naked in front of
a man?

My body was just one more way I had my macho roommate by the balls.

"Ready?" I chirped, smiling and dropping into a fighting stance.

Again, he surprised me, coming forward with his hand still covering his
balls. For a second I didn't get what was happening, and then I burst
into barks of laughter, unable to help myself.

"You're going to fight me one-handed!" I guffawed. "You're going to make
damn sure I don't grab your balls again!"

My roommate's face was grim and intent. "Damn right," he hissed. "You've
held em for the last time."

"Somehow I doubt it," I snickered. Then I was caught off guard as his
free hand lashed out and slapped me in the head, sending stars of pain
shooting across my vision. I jumped back, and it was his turn to laugh.
Shit, I thought, even one-handed he was fast! I tried to remember my
self-defense training. There was more than one vulnerable spot on a man,
and with one of his hands on permanent ball-guarding duty he'd have that
much less ability to stop me from hitting them.

I kicked at his leg, and he danced away and struck out with his free hand
again. I blocked it this time, but the impact sent pain shooting up my
arm. He was so strong! That's when I started to worry - could he really
beat me one-handed?

Then I remembered he had feet too, as he kicked out and got me in the
thigh. I winced and staggered back. He pounced forward and punched me in
the left breast. Unable to stifle my cry of pain, I doubled over and held
my breast with one hand. My roommate didn't waste a second, and his free
hand crunched hard into my naked right breast. Tears welled up in my
eyes, and I fell to my knees, my face scrunched in pain. He slapped me in
the face, hard.

"Gonna grab my nuts now, bitch?" he hissed, and slapped me again. "Looks
like you were a one-trick pony!"

Crying in pain and rage, I lashed out with one hand, but he slapped my
hand aside and punched my uncovered breast again. I moaned, and he
grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head back. Amazingly, I could see that
his left hand was still anchored firmly around his balls - he didn't want
any last-second reversals of fortune this time. As he tortured me with a
hand on my hair, he kicked out, his foot catching me under my exposed
vagina. I wailed, but managed to reach out with a hand and catch his
foot, throwing him off balance. He staggered, and took his free hand out
of my hair to steady himself.

That's when I struck, my fingers jabbing into his eyes. He bellowed a
curse and clutched at his face with his free hand, while his
ball-protector never wavered. I lunged and hooked his foot, my eyes still
clouded by tears, and jerked him off-balance. He fell hard on his ass,
but as he did, he clubbed me with his free band, catching me hard across
the ribs. I gasped, and struck out with both my hands. One hand was
blocked painfully by his free hand, but the other went unopposed,
striking at his windpipe. I chopped him right on the Adam's Apple, and he
gasped and spluttered for air, rolling over onto his knees and bending
over.

I wasted no time, kicking him in the face full force as he gasped for
breath. His head jerked and he grabbed for my leg, but I danced away and
karate-chopped him on the back of the neck. That didn't hurt him as much
as I'd hoped, and he started to get to his feet, one hand still around
his balls. Faking another karate chop, I drew his hand away and then
kicked out with my foot. This time my toe found his throat, and he
collapsed back to the floor, choking and gasping. I followed that up with
hard kicks to his face and stomach.

"I give!" he wheezed, struggling for breath. "You win!"

I staggered backward and collapsed on the couch, not caring that I was
buck naked and my legs were splayed out wide as could be. I was hurting
pretty bad. But he was struggling for breath, and took a while to rise
from the floor. We glared at each other, he massaging his neck, me
massaging my abused breasts.

Then, rising from the couch, and not bothering to put on any clothes, I
walked over to him. He flinched away from me, but didn't interfere as I
reached out and clasped my hand around his balls. The proper power
relation was restored.

"Gonna punch my tits now, bitch?" I hissed at him. "Looks like you were a
one-trick pony!"

He glared back at me angrily. "Did you cry?" he asked softly.

I wanted to crush his balls, right then and there, and send him puking to
the floor in agony. I almost did it, too, but that was not part of our
deal, and I restrained myself.

"Did you cry?" he repeated, and I realized I was close to crying now, in
anger this time.

"Yes, I fucking cried," I spat, still holding him by his testicles. "Do
you want a reward or something?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "What do I get, more of you fondling my nuts?"

In response, I leaned forward and pressed my naked body against his. My
bare breasts squeezed against his chest, still tender from the beating he
had given them, and I felt his penis against my hip. Before he could
react, I kissed him, full on the lips. Then I drew away, and released his
balls, while he stood there, looking confused and worried.

"There's you're reward," I said. "Congratulations. Hope you have fun
staying naked for the rest of the month." And then I faked a grab for his
balls, causing him to pop his hips back and cover himself with both
hands.

I laughed and spun on my heel, giving him a final view of my bare ass as
I went to put on some clothes. But where he couldn't see, my face was set
in a mask of anger. This encounter hadn't been as conclusive as I'd have
liked. Somehow, I knew he'd challenge me again.