Elastrator play - and castration play more generally - can be pretty fun. I enjoy incorporating a fair amount of BDSM into my pony play, and really what's a more natural combination than pony play and castration play?
There's not much that the threat (or the pain) of being banded won't get me to do, which my trainer regularly takes full advantage of by giving me a "choice" between the little green band and some other distasteful activity. However, sometimes T gets that evil twinkle in her eye. The twinkle that says she's going to band me - no threats, no choices, just the elastrator - because sometimes, I believe, she just wants to watch me squirm.
So, I thought why not ask T to snap a few photos the next time she decides to walk the fine line between watching (and perhaps relishing a little too much) her stallion struggle in pain and unwittingly converting him into a gelding. Unfortunately for me, she not only loved the idea, but she wanted to try it immediately, and I soon found myself railroaded into an elastrator scene.
In fairly short order, I find my legs in a spreader bar, my leather fist mitt clad hands bound above my head, and a soon-to-be-uncomfortable sized ball in my mouth while T fuses about with bag of bands (she spills them all on the floor in front me, but, bound as I am and knowing the anatomy of the scene to come, I'm actually able to suppress my laughter).
After collecting all the bands from the floor, T sets the pliers and a single green band on the table. Carefully, she puts the band on the tip of the pliers and flexes them open a couple times, possibly to test if the pliers are working or that the band won't snap, but most likely she does it to get in my head.
It's not terribly hard to get a bound and gagged male with his legs forcibly spread open to wince inwardly (and perhaps outwardly as well) seeing the little elastrator band open wide then violently contract back to less than the size of a dime (the small size of the elastrator bands always amaze (and frighten) me. Just looking at the narrow opening makes my balls ache and climb upwards, trying to get inside me before the band finds its way between them and me).
With the first shot in her psychological war fired, she opened the elastrator band once more, this time holding it open as she bent down to examine her quarry. Part of me wanted it over quickly, but I must confess that I wasn't terribly disappointed when she had her usual difficulties in getting the band around my balls (when we first started playing with elastrators, it came as a little bit of a surprise to us that my balls didn't fit through very easily, but it's not like T was about to waste any excuse to be rough with my balls).
Here's a photo taken during the scene of the fully opened elastrator (at least opened as far as that set of pliers allowed; a larger elastrator plier is apparently available, but they didn't have a choice where we bought ours) against my balls:
You can see in the above photo that, even expanded, my balls were in for a tight fit through the elastrator band.
Nevertheless, T was up for the challenge of roughly pushing my balls through the tiny elastic band while I was helpless to stop her, or even object. Feeling her nails running along my balls, pinching the skin as she pushed and pulled first the skin of my scrotum, then finally one my balls, through the elastrator band.
I was completely still the whole time, especially when she was pushing the testicle through (what a joy that was to have one of balls squeezed to fit through the band) because I especially feared her losing her grip on the handles of the pliers and the band snapping closed while one of balls was still inside it.
So in a few moments, T had one my balls through the little green band:
As soon as she got the first one through, T immediately set to work getting my second ball through the band. The second one took even longer than the first. A big part of me was now wishing that she wouldn't be able to get the second one through and just give up on this whole endeavor, but sure enough after a lot of poking, pushing, and pulling, she finally got my second testicle past the elastrator band.
With both balls through the band T was proud of her handiwork. From the smile on her face, I could tell she wanted to mess with me some more, but before getting to that she gently held my balls in one hand while she pulled the - still wide open - elastrator band to the top of my balls:
Once she had the band near the top, she didn't close the band right away. She took her time slowly releasing the handles, letting the pressure on my balls build higher and higher. It starts as a dull throbbing but quickly becomes an ache. The ache yields shortly to a sharp pain as the four metal prongs at tip of the pliers (that held open the band) start to dig into my scrotum.
While nothing compared to the pain that was about to come as the elastic becomes progressively tighter, it was enough to make me start trying to pull my hips back in a vain effort to extricate my balls from the device.
T releases the handle even more, and I can feel the band become a clamp around my balls. The pain is still bearable, but I know that the band isn't fully closed, and even if it were, the pain will become much worse the longer the elastrator stays in place.
Finally, when the band is nearly closed, T reaches down with her other hand and slowly rolls the elastic upwards, off the prongs of the pliers, and I feel the elastic grip my balls even tighter. With the band no longer on them, T reopens the pliers, and pulls them back down my balls. This takes a few seconds, but pretty soon the pliers are back on the table and T gives my banded balls a flick leaving me sweating and squirming in pain.
Now she into the mind games again in earnest. Although I know she is joking when she talks about leaving the elastrator on overnight (aside from unbearable pain, this would mean permanent castration), it still gives me a shiver of fear, and I can't help from making distressed sounds into my gag as I pull against my restraints.
After about a minute, she unbuckles the cuffs of the spreader bar and unties my wrists but leaves my hands locked into the fists within the leather mitts. She of course leaves the elastrator and the gag in place as well.
She tells me that I'm now free to cut the band off whenever I like before leaving me alone in the room trying in vain to grip the scissors with my hands locked in the fist mitts.