I never thought I would write story for Eunuch Archive, let alone a mostly true story (characters and events have been condensed). It all happened so fast. I was a middle aged divorced male, white, 5’8’, 165 lbs. I have two wonderful children. I raised them alone after my wife left because she decided she didn’t want to be married. Before I was married I had many girlfriends and a few after I was divorced. I though being gay was repulsive.
That suddenly changed within the last eighteen months. It started with the Internet, as many things do today. I was always a fan of porn and the Internet made it readily available. Never went to any web pages that you had to pay for though. I loved to look at pictures but especially loved to read the stories. Cannibalism stories fascinated me, and I read as many as I could find. Somewhere along that time I found the Eunuch Archive. These stories truly turned me on. I fantasized about being a eunuch or nullo. In one bulletin entry I found a reference to the Extreme Genital Modification Page. This was great. I was becoming more and more turned on by looking at men. I was also becoming obsessed with always being naked while at home. I began completely shaving my body except head hair.
I then became so bold as to put pictures of my body on the Extreme web page with a profile that I wished to be a nullo or castrated. Then it started to get serious. I found myself thinking about what it would be like to be screwed my another man, what it would be like to suck another man’s dick and swallow. When I jacked off I often ate my own come. I decided I wasn’t ready to be castrated and became interested in the large balls and dicks the pumpers had modified. I sent messages to several and one responded. This was the beginning.
We switched to meeting online privately. He showed me how to use a web cam and for the first time I was showing my naked body to another man in live action. This led to him leading me through ordering pumping supplies and starting to pump my dick and balls. I was now obsessed with having huge balls and a huge dick and was getting there. My balls were large and I loved it. Something else was happening at this time, he asked me to jack-off for him and I did. I kept jacking off whenever he asked me. He led me to the pumper’s page, where the chat room has a live cam feed. Now I was showing my package to a chat room of total strangers. It was fantastic; I had never felt so turned on.
The conversation started to be more about gay sex. I found my self-asking to be fucked. I wanted my balls to be pumped large and then I wanted to be fucked. I could just feel those big dicks fucking me. He invited me to his town. He said we could pump and he would help with saline injections, which would make my balls really huge. I wanted this and I wanted to put pictures on the web page so others could see me. I was following a path that would change me forever.
My new friend showed me dildo’s he had on hand. He said we could try these. One was shaped like a large dogs dick. This I found very interesting. I looked up bestiality stories on the net and became turned on by the idea. My friend mentioned slave master relationship and having read many stories in the Archives I was turned on with the though of being a slave. Things were escalating. I dreamed of being in a dog collar and leash and nothing else. I dreamed of being fucked and sucking dick. And really strange I dreamed of being held by a large dog and fucked by a dog. These dreams were closer than I could imagine.
My friend invited me to his city and amazingly I accepted. Me the straight stud who never even thought about gay things until the last year. I made arrangements for a suite and took some vacation time. I brought my pumping equipment and lots of rubbers. I was finally going to get fucked. How much and by how many I could not have guessed.
I arrived and we met at a restaurant. We had dinner then we went to his condo. He had a partner who was not home at the time. After some conversation we got down to the nitty gritty. We both had seen each other naked many times on the web cam but this was up close and personal. He was hairy but not too much as compared to my totally smooth look. After we were naked we immediately set our pump session. I was totally hard and could barely fit in the pumping tube. We pumped for a few hours till we were pretty large. It was great to have someone besides myself massage my balls during the breaks.
I was harder than I have ever been. At one point we were very close, as need be, when he leaned over and kissed me. A man had never kissed me before it was frightening but I began to love it. For the first time in my life I was the passive party, I was the bitch. Our tongues intertwined, it was wonderful. The next thing I knew he was pushing me gently down his chest, I licked and sucked his nipples, he groaned as I moved on down. Then it was there, my first dick up close. I licked it, the taste was not gross. I took it in my mouth; it was so smooth and silky. I liked the pre-come and tasted it on my tongue. Finally I sucked it; I took as much as I could in my mouth. I did the things I know I like. I licked the under side right behind the head. Slowly I sucked and licked until, again for the first time, another man came in my mouth. I swallowed it all, it tasted great. I felt this was right for me.
I stood up and we kissed more. His hairy body against mine felt wonderful. We went back to pumping until we were both huge. The rest of the evening we relaxed and talked. He said tomorrow things would get serious. I arrived early the next day. He took me to the living room and said take off all your clothes, which I love to do anyway. After I was naked he walked behind me and placed leather studded dog collar around my neck. This would be all I would wear that day and many other days. A leash was hooked and I was led to the bedroom where we pumped up for the day to come.
It was that afternoon, after we pumped, he hugged and kissed me again and gently led me to the bed. On the nightstand was plenty of lube. He laid me on my back on the bed. He lifted my legs and lubed my ass. I had never had anyone’s fingers up my ass before, it felt good. He placed my legs on his shoulders and his dick at my ass hole. Ever so slowly he entered my ass. It was a little painful at first but it felt so good I quickly became adjusted. Slowly he pumped me, I came on my stomach without being touched. I know this was right for me. He picked up speed as I became more comfortable. We both were moaning as I began to feel his cock swell, when I realized he hadn’t put on a condom. I didn’t care at this point. Then he moaned loudly, thrust hard and he came in me. I was amazed I could feel him coming in me. He stayed in me and held me for a while. I loved the feel of his hairy body on mine.
His partner was coming home that evening and I was in for more new experiences. I was naked all day except for my collar and leash. My friend helped me shave my body, reaching places I could never get to, my back and ass hole. It was a great feeling, I was hard constantly. My huge balls hanging out bouncing against my thighs was so great. I found it very erotic that my friend was dressed while I stayed naked. His partner came home to find me naked and leashed. While he wasn’t as interested in me as my friend, he was very nice. After dinner we went on-line to the Pumpers page with the live cams.
There we showed ourselves and pumped along with others. Many liked my smooth look and when during a pump break some noticed I was semi hard asked me to jerk off. I was too shy but my friend took charge and much to the delight of everyone watching he jerked me off, another first for me. I though my dick would burst it was so hard. We signed off and moved to the bed. My friend again gently pushed me downward, I took the hint and moved to his dick and began to suck. As I was doing this my ass was naturally in the air and soon I felt lube being applied as his partner slowly eased his dick into my ass hole. I was being fucked at both ends and loving it.
They both picked up speed and finally thrust into me and held me tight as they both came in me seconds apart. Again we forgot the condoms but who cared it felt so good. I could feel and taste the come. I spent the next day naked with my collar while we pumped till our dicks and balls were so big we couldn’t have fit them in any of our underwear. In one weekend I went from a heterosexual man with children and some fantasies to a naked, gay, bottom, that had been fucked from both ends and loved it. I couldn’t wait to get back the next weekend. My friend had some new things in store.
Finally the next weekend rolled around and I drove to my friend’s city. I didn’t bother with a hotel room this time. As soon as I entered the door off came my clothes and on went the collar. After dinner he said he had a big surprise for me. We were going out! Since I was naked it might be a problem. My friend had this solved. He put a graduation type gown on me. The collar and leash still showed as he led me to the car. We pulled up in front of a gay bar. My first time in a gay bar and I was basically naked and being led around on a leash. I should have said naked because as soon as we entered the gown came off. I was totally naked in a roomful of gay men. I was also totally erect, almost painful I was so hard. With my pumped up balls I was freakish. I was also very popular. Everyone was touching me as my friend, or should I now say it “Master” led me through the crowd. God I was turned on. We sat a table in the back as my Master talked quietly to many of the patrons. After a while he pulled my leash and we went to a special room in the back. It had a padded table in the middle with some towels and a bottle of lube. I was laid on the table and my Master rubbed me down then lubed my ass.
Then men started entering the room four and five at a time. I was fucked on my back flipped over and fucked on my stomach doggie style (which I liked the best). While I was being fucked dicks were stuck in my mouth and I sucked till my jaw hurt, swallowing loads of come in all flavors. Of the dicks in my ass some had condoms some did not. All I knew was come was running out all over my ass. I came several times by men jerking me off while they fucked me. I have no idea how many men fucked or I sucked that night but I was very sore. My Master, in anticipation, was thoughtful enough to have brought a diaper since I no longer could hold anything in my stretched ass hole. We went back to his house where he cleaned me in the shower gave me a big kiss and put me to bed.
The next day since my ass hole was already stretched my Master tried the dog dildo on me. It was very long but the knot just would not go in, it was too big even for my used ass hole. The length and strange shape did feel good. We pumped again, I can’t get over my huge balls, and I returned home sore but satisfied. I couldn’t wait to get back the next weekend.
The weekend started the same, enter strip, collar. After dinner the gown was put on and in the car we went. This time we drove out into the countryside. We pulled into a long drive leading to a secluded house. This was a friend of my Master, we left the robe in the car and I was led naked to the house. We entered and sat for some small talk. After a while my Master’s friend said let’s get started and I was led into a large den type room where I saw him. Him was a large dog. I don’t think he was a pure bred anything just a large dog like a Rotweiler or something. Buster was his name. I was placed over a small padded bench in the middle of the room, resting on my stomach my ass sticking out. The Master’s friend rubbed something on my balls and ass. As soon as he opened the jar the dog perked up and smelled the air. “Buster” moves to me and began to lick my balls and ass. I was rock hard at the thought of what was going to happen. My master slipped his hand between the dog and me and lubed my ass hole. It was going to happen, after all the stories I read and videos I watched on the Internet that turned me on so much I was about to fucked by a dog.
You cannot imagine how good it feels when the dog lays on your back with his very warm and furry body. It is like a living blanket. My own dick was about to explode when the dog’s owner lined the dog’s dick up with my ass. I want to tell you it is not very easy to be fucked by a dog. Their dick keeps slipping out as they hump very fast. With a little help from the dog’s owner he managed to keep the dog’s dick pumping in me pretty well. It is a fantastic feeling because the dog moves so fast and generates so much heat. My ass hole kept trying to suck the dog dick in me and keep it. Remember I could not take the canine dildo’s knot so I thought no way a real dogs knot would fit. However with the owners pushing and the knot being slightly smaller combined with plenty of lube the knot went in me.
You might not know this but after it enters the bitch it sort of turns sideways to stay in. It didn’t hurt for it to do this but there was no way it would come out without ripping me apart. Just after the knot turned and locked the dog in me, the dog began to come. It was more than I could have dreamed, it thinner that people come, and it just kept squirting. I felt so full. The dog then turned around swiveling his dick in me till we were ass to ass. I had to stay this way for about thirty minutes till the knot turned around and the dog could break lose out of my ass. The dog come then gushed out of my ass for about a minute and a half. I was so satisfied and happy. I hoped to do this again many times. It was especially great when the dog licked my dick and ass clean.
We alternated situations like these for several months, it was great. I had huge balls, was regularly fucked and I loved sucking dicks. But things were about to change and this is why this story is in the Eunuch Archive. It started a few months ago; I was living a regular life in my town and my weekends in my Masters city getting fucked and pumping. I began to feel soreness in my balls. They became very sensitive. I finally had to see an urologist. I chose to find a doctor in another city since my new lifestyle may have factored in to my problem. As luck would have it the doctor turned out to be gay and was very understanding.
The catch was my sore balls had nothing to do with my life style. It was a congenial birth defect something about my cords being tensioned. He said it was amazing that it didn’t bother me before. My balls were not getting enough circulation and constant pain would be the result. It would be like being kicked in the balls all the time. The remedies are heavy use of pain killing drugs with their side effects or double orchiectomy (take out my balls). They could put fake balls back in my sack so I would not look different and I could take testosterone to keep my masculinity. I thought about this and discussed it with my Master. Remember at the beginning of my saga reading about castration was a turn on for me. Now I had to make a choice give up the huge balls I get from pumping or constant pain. I decided to give up my balls.
Now the decision was how, when and where. The doctor was great he understood my dilemma and would help in anyway. The only way he was allowed to operate was thru the abdomen and besides that was the only way to remove my cords which were the real problem anyway. The doctor helped big time in two ways. First, he agreed to save my balls and return them to me even though it is against medical rules. He also contacted a plastic surgeon in the gay community to remove my sack and make me smooth below my dick. It helped that the urologist owned his own clinic with a surgical suite. I scheduled the surgery and took a months vacation and sick leave. Another handy thing was since it was a medical necessity to remove my balls my insurance was paying for it. The doctors agree to manage the plastic surgeons fees in the bill to insurance. My Master agreed to help me recover. My children thought it was hernia surgery.
Now I come to today, two months later. I am officially a eunuch. My stitches are gone and were my balls used to be is a fine little scar with still a little redness. My Master and I decided no hormones. My dick has already shrunk to the size of a big clit, no more fucking for me (like the look however, just a little button at the top of my groin). My hips are rounder and easier for my Master and others (including the dog) to grip. And another part I really, really like is my little breasts. They are so pretty. My nipples have gotten much bigger and I get so turned on when they are sucked. It is much easier to keep hair off my body since it has stopped growing dark and coarse. My whole body seems more sensitive. My weight has dropped to about 140 lbs. If I wear something tight I have the body of a girl.
I still live and go to work in my city. Nobody knows my secret, they think I was sick and lost weight. I wear baggy clothes to work. On the weekends I go to my masters. I am still naked and collared as soon as I enter. He still likes to fuck me and I like to suck him. We go to the gay bar about once a month, where they really like to feel me up. I don’t think as many want to fuck me as before. I must look too much like a girl now. I would like to dress like a girl but my Master pretty much keeps me naked so clothes aren’t necessary. I really love more than ever being fucked by the dog (or dogs I should say there have been more since the first). I do sometimes miss my pumped up dick. I can come rubbing my nubbin dick but it’s not the same. I don’t get that feeling when the come shoots out. But other sensations make up for it.
So that’s my story up to now. I started out being turned on by eunuch stories, moved to pumping and big balls and being fucked. Then in a round about way ended up a real gay eunuch and loving it. I want to get pictures posted on some web page soon so everyone can enjoy me.
Oh by the way, my Master brought my balls home in a jar and prepared them, then sautéed them and I ate one the he ate the other. Tasted good had the consistency of liver but was a delight anyway. I only regret I could only eat them once.
Thanks for sharing my saga.
I’m a 35 year old bodybuilder who abused steroids in my weight training for many years. I achieved the body I wanted, but eventually developed serious problems which required my stopping the injections cold. Deprived of the drug my body had come to count on, my testicles went into overdrive, producing double the normal amount of testosterone. It sent me through the roof, causing aggressive behavior and an inability to control my sexual desires. Morning till night, I couldn’t concentrate on anything but sex. Work suffered, as well as, my relationship of ten years. As months passed, I believed that things would return to normal, but after several confrontations, my partner announced that he wasn’t going to tolerate my behavior any longer and would leave if I didn’t get help.
I went through several drugs meant to control hormone production, including those used in chemical castration of sex offenders. The side effects totally took me down, basically leaving me unable to function at work, the gym or at home. Frustrated with my options, I asked the question I had avoided for months. “Castration would solve the problem, right?” My doctor recoiled at the mention of the “c” word. He answered, “yes”, but that it was absolutely not an option he would consider as a treatment. I was on my own.
I sat with my partner that evening and I explained what I was considering. I told him that castration would eliminate the rage and since I had been on steroids for many years, the thought of hormone replacement therapy didn’t really bother me. Avoiding the obvious pun, this was going to fix everything and I had decided castration wasn’t the worst thing that could happen in my life. Lots of guys have lost their testicles to cancer, prostrate trouble and they’ve done just fine.
I was surprised by his calm reaction. He listened intently, then said, “I don’t know what to say, that’s a serious move, one that can’t be undone. I mean I’ll support your decision without question – but that’s a hell of a sacrifice.” From that I figured I had his approval. Now I just have to figure out how to “do the deed”.
The options for castration are pretty limited- cutting, clamping or restriction. I immediately ruled out surgery because it required a third-party cutter – an outsider I wouldn’t know or trust. Cutting my ball sack open really bothered me. I figured this was something I had to do myself, so I searched the web for options which came down to a Burdizzo or an Elastrator. I found information on their use, effectiveness and recovery. I figured I had to go with a bloodless method and tough out whatever pain was associated with it.
In retrospect, I guess I must have had some hesitation, because I ruled out the Burdizzo. It would be quick and over with one 30-second crush. Definitely no turning back once you started, plus I wondered if would I be able to hold the grip if the pain was intense. So I opted for the Elastrator which came with a bag of 100 green castrating bands and a “cat claw” band cutter. I looked at the bands and thought, “Which one of you guys gets to do the deed.”
I examined the instrument, loaded a band on the four prongs and squeezed the jaws open. It worked simple enough, over the sack and let it go. My heart began to race. What would it feel like? Could I really go through with it? I decided to test it out. I stripped off my pants and shorts – my ball sack was now vulnerable.
With the Elastrator fully extended the band formed a nice square which easily slipped over my scrotum. I slowly released my grip letting the jaws and the band close around my ball sack. It was uncomfortable, but then I realized the prongs were sticking me. I worked the band off the first prong and then the second, third and finally free from the Elastrator. The band restricted into my sack but felt more comfortable than before. I can’t say it hurt, more like a strong pinch with a really strange feeling beginning to build. After only a minute or two, my scrotum turned red which meant the band was doing what is was designed for. I reached for the band cutters, I took a deep snip and the tight green band came free. As the stabbing pain of blood rushing back into the testicles and scrotum hit me, I realized that cutting it off hurt more than leaving it on.
Later that night when my partner came home, I showed him the Elastrator and explained how it worked. He immediately asked, “Have you tried it?” After I described my experience, he answered, “Doesn’t sound like you’re exactly ready, but if, and when, the time does comes, I’ll be here.”
In the next couple days we had a lot of sex, mostly because my hormones were continuing to race and we both realized my rampant desires were going to come to an end soon. Afterwards, it always came back to the same thing – we’d start talking about “doing the deed”..
I was becoming more comfortable with idea. Especially after I had met a guy on-line who claimed he had been castrated with a Elastrator. His first-hand account was pretty graphic which made me think it really was his experience. He told me about the “sick” feeling in the lower abdomen which let you know the testicles have been deprived of blood and the most difficult part for him – waiting for the damn things to fall off. All-in-all, it didn’t sound as bad as I had feared. I was even more determined to proceed.
It was late Friday night and we were almost asleep when my partner got up and left the room. I heard the bath tub running which struck me a odd since we both shower. Ten minutes later he came in and said, “I think this is the night to do the deed. We’ve got the weekend to deal with whatever happens as a result of tonight.” His logic made sense and I was relieved to follow his lead.
There in the bathroom my razor, shave cream and several towels where neatly laid out. He said, “Strip down and I’m going to shave your balls.” I asked if that was really necessary. “Probably not, lets just say this is for me.” He knelt in front of me and proceed to lather and shave my ball sack. He took his time which meant he was really enjoying this.
When he was finished, I added hot water to the waiting tub and sat down trying to relax. He commented, “A loose sack and balls will make it easier for the band to take a good hold from the start.” I looked at him, “Sounds like you’ve been doing a little research on your own.” He flipped back, “I have.” He then produced a 30mg Restoril. “Take this, it’ll help you relax and get to sleep later.” I took the pill and continued to soak, my freshly shaved scrotum floated freely in the water.
As the sedative kicked in, he knelt down by the side of the tub and started talking to me in a low, calm voice. “I told you from the beginning that I would support you through this. This has been a huge emotional strain to get to this point…for both of us. I picked tonight because we either need to get this done or drop it. It’s totally up to you if we continue or not, but if we do, I need to hear your commitment that once the band goes on, it doesn’t come off for any reason until it falls off. Frankly, I don’t think I can go through this again.”
I responded that I couldn’t agree more.
I dried off and he brought me my favorite workout shirt. The warm bath did it’s trick, my scrotum was loose with my two balls clearly defined and hanging low in the sack. He put one hand around me and opened a draw. There lay the Elastrator, loaded with a band. “Let’s make this real easy, I’m going do it for you.” I nodded with relief. It somehow seemed easier knowing I wasn’t doing this to myself, but that my partner was going to castrate me, which he now seemed quite determined to do.
He gripped the Elastrator retracting the band to its full capacity. “It’s going to be okay”, he assured me. As he moved the instrument up under my scrotum, it slipped through the square made by the extended band. As he released the grip and the band closed in, he pulled my scrotum down to insure a tight fit to top of the sack under my cock. As before, I felt the prongs of the Elastrator sticking me. One by one he worked the band off the first three prongs, then stopped for a moment and looked at me. Remembering my commitment, I nodded my approval and the band slipped from the final prong embedding itself into my skin. The constriction was more intense than the first time, the loose sack did make it easier for the band to bite in and take hold.
The Elastrator immediately went back in the drawer and my partner put his arms around me and took me into the bedroom. “It will be better if you lay down.” That strange feeling was starting to come over me. My ball sack and testicle wanted to retreat, but the band restricted their once free movement. As I laid down the feeling crept into my abdomen just as I had been advised. A queasy belly ache – not really pain, but very uncomfortable none the less. Even with the sedative, it was difficult to relax. My body wasn’t happy about what was happening as the band continued to restrict tighter with each passing minute.
My partner laid down next to me stroking my chest and abdomen and finally reached down to my crotch and stroked my captured balls. “You doing okay?” It was hard to speak, I just nodded. I knew he couldn’t resist seeing his handy work and after about thirty minutes he took a look. “It’s definitely doing the job. Your sack is dark purple.” The ache had intensified and the pinch of the band had started to throb. I figured this was probably it, the point of no return and I tried to clear my mind of what was happening. As I rolled on my side, I could feel the ball sack had turned cold as it lay against my thigh. It already felt foreign, not a part of my body. With my partner spooned on my backside, his arm over me as a protector, I did manage to fall into a daze.
When I woke the next morning, I found my partner standing over me looking down at my crotch. Eight hours had passed since the band had been secured and pretty much the “deed” had been done. The ache in my belly had subsided and the only pain was from the compressed skin just above the band. I reached down for the first time and found my scrotum cold and without feeling. I worked my fingers around my testicles which produced no sensation either. I looked up at my partner and asked the stupid question, “How does it look?” His somber expression told me all I needed to know, but he answered anyway. “Well, it’s pretty black. I think it’s safe to say their finished. The band has cut into the skin to the point I can hardly see it.”
I spent the next two days in bed. My body was worn down by the trauma. But even by the morning after I realized that my over charged drive was gone. The band had done it’s work alright, cutting off the blood stopped the flow of testosterone. That perked my spirits. I had accomplished what I set out to do. But this black cold lump of dead tissue was starting to bug me. It had been more than two and a half days since I was banded. There seemed to be some uncertainty how long it would take to fall off on its own, but I wanted it gone now. So I called my doctor and made an appointment.
When the doctor came in I was wearing my baggy workout pants. He asked what was up and I flatly told him that he wasn’t going to be happy to see me.
When I pulled down my pants he grimaced at the sight. “I took things into my own hands. Now that it’s done, I want to have it rest removed…today, if possible.” He shook his head and said, “Unbelievable, you actually did it.” With great reluctance he groved his hands and began feeling around my black ball sack. I could tell the testicles had started to become mushy as I watched him probe around, but no feeling whatsoever. “I’m going to call a surgeon friend about this. This needs to be removed above the band and sutured closed to avoid serious complications. Under the circumstances, I’m sure he will see you today. It will be a fairly easy in-office procedure. Then I suggest you find yourself another doctor.”
It’s been five years since the banding and I haven’t regretted it for a day. My partner and I have built a strong relationship which really started that night when he releasing the band from the final prong. He will always be the guy that “did the deed” for which he takes full responsibility. I know it sounds sadistic, but that’s a bond that will always be there. And just to remind me, he comes home every so often and greets me with, “How’s my gelding?”..but only in private.
My ad read: Balls wanted for torture and removal.
At first no replies and then they started to roll in. My first respondant was waiting for me in his motel room, blindfolded as ordered. I entered his room and took him by the hand and led him into his bathtub. I handcuffed him to the shower curtain rod and asked if he could give me a good reason why he should keep his nuts.
No answer but his cock stood at attention so I bent over and sucked it while I squeezed and pulled his nuts. In what seemed like seconds he shot his final load.
I pulled down on his sack and with my scalpel I made a circle around his sac. With a little trimming it came off in my hand and I set it aside to start my collection. The balls where hanging by the cords so I had to pull them down as far as I could to see his reaction. A few muffled cries but surprising self control so far. I told him it was going to get rough from here and asked if he wanted a gag, he shook his head.
I doused his exposed nuts in isoproplyl alcohol and lit them on fire. He screamed and I had to put out the flames and wait to see if anyone heard. I told him I had to gag him but if he wanted to change his mind now was the absolute last chance! He sobbed and said my balls are yours sir do with them as you will.
I gagged him and placed the vice around his lower hanging and bigger left nut, slowly I tightened the vice until it had the nut squashed almost completely flat, sweat was running down his body so I quickly tightened the vice until there was a popping noise and he slumped against the handcuffs. I removed the vice and took the flattened nut in my mouth. I took a deep breath and bit off his nut, chewed and swallowed it; almost like a raw oyster but a lot tougher.
My cock shot out the most intense orgasm I have ever had. He passed out, and I took this time to clean and close the wound from where I had bitten off his nut. By this time he was starting to come to so I squeezed the remaining nut until he let out a muffled groan.
I dropped to my knees and took his last nut in my teeth, he groaned and I bit it in half. He slumped against the handcuffs and I stood up and rubbed the half of his ball all over his face. Then while looking him right in the eyes I slowly chewed and swallowed it. He looked so sexy with only half a ball left that I had to slowly push a large needle through his cock head. Just as the needle pushed through I bit off what was left of his ball and slowly chewed and swallowed it.
Again he passed out so I stitched up the wounds and waited for him to come to. When he did, I slowly removed the needle from his cock and undid the handcuffs. I gently laid him on the bed and told him to call my pager if he wanted me to cut off his cock.
NOTE: I HAVE NOW CASTRATED AND EATEN THE BALLS FROM THREE MEN, HOWEVER I HAVE BEEN IN TOO BIG OF A HURRY TO COOK THEM AND NOW AM LOOKING FORWARD TO COOKING A HUGE PAIR OF BALLS AND SLOWLY EATING THEM WHILE YOU WATCH YOUR MANHOOD DISAPEAR.
The night after castrating and sending my former slave off to his fate, I slept well, knowing that I had done the right thing. Now, however, I was without a slave. Good slaves, the kind one keeps, are difficult to find. I resolved to select very carefully this time.
My search began on the ‘Net. Using my access to the highly secure “Masters Only” website, I posted a “Slave Wanted” notice. After a few weeks of no replies, I decided to check the usual haunts in the city – a none too enticing prospect. However, to my good fortune, I was greeted with the sight of a slight young Asian man moving into my building. He looked to be perfect slave material. He was in his early twenties, slender and very feminine in his movements and gestures. His attitude suggested a wealthy upbringing. Often, wealthy Asian families “exile” their gay offspring to New York City, where they fit into the culture readily. At home, they would be an embarrassment, causing loss of face and scandal. This young man was just moving in. It was mildly amusing watching him order the moving company personnel around with his effeminate gestures and high-pitched voice.
Later, I asked the doorman which apartment he had taken. I was told “11C,” in a tone that indicated displeasure, probably over an insufficient gratuity, certainly not over his sexual orientation.
I let my candidate settle in for a few days, and then prepared a note which read “If you want a good master, be in the lobby on Friday at noon wearing a red kerchief around your neck.” This, I slipped under his door after I had seen him leave the building with his dog. I waited the few days until Friday, then went down to the lobby at noon. He was there, a blazing red scarf wrapped around his slim neck. I walked over, smiling. His face lit up. “I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “Come with me. Now,” I told him firmly. Obediently, he followed me into the elevator and, after the ride up, into the foyer of my apartment. I explained the necessity of a blood test before he was initiated. This he understood and agreed to. I tied off his right arm, painted the inside of his elbow with antiseptic, punctured one of his veins and withdrew several tubes of blood for testing. He let me do all this without resistance. I packaged the tubes, called the lab for pickup, then had the doorman come fetch the package from outside my apartment. The results, which I hoped would be negative, would be phoned to me tomorrow morning. That out of the way, I began to explain what was expected of him. Absolute obedience without any discussion was the first requirement. No matter how unpleasant the task seemed, he was to undertake it immediately and without argument. As my slave, he would be well cared for but his unwavering devotion was expected at all times. Displeasing me would result in long, painful punishments the like of which he couldn’t even imagine. I explained to him what I had done with my previous slave. He understood. I also explained that I would be removing his balls as soon as the test results came back. At first, a little fear blossomed in his eyes, but that was soon swept away by a look of complete submission.
Ordered to strip, he did so quickly. He pirouetted, spread his butt cheeks for my examination. His balls were medium sized, hung in a small sac just below his uncut penis, which was none too large in length or diameter. His body was slender and firm, his skin was healthy. His hair was a bit too long for my taste. The overall impression was one of a restrained urge to please in any way possible. I approved. If the tests worked out, he would make an excellent slave.
To my question about how he had come to move into my building, he answered that one afternoon his father had caught him in the throes of passionate lovemaking with a boy from his school. He and the other boy had been beaten unmercifully. Because his partner was of the lower classes, his punishment had been less severe. To avoid embarrassment to his wealthy family, he had been taught English by a female tutor and had not been allowed in the presence of any other male, except his Father, while he was being educated for his exile to our country. He told me that he had missed his friend, but that he realized that there was no way for him to have any such relationship in his country. His family had set up a trust fund to cover his needs, purchased an apartment for him to live in and told him never to try to get in touch with them again. His father was looking forward to being notified of his death from AIDS. He went on to say that he had long dreamed of being subjected to the will of a strong male and that he hated his testicles and wanted them removed. In all, he seemed the perfect slave candidate.
I explained to him that he was always to address me as “master” and that I would always address him as “slave,” since I would have only one slave at a time. He accepted this with a “Yes, Master.” We retired to separate rooms for the night.
The lab called the following day to let me know that he was negative for HIV and other venereals tested for. It was time to get to work.
Several years ago, I had had a soundproof room constructed in my apartment for the purpose of disciplining slaves without disturbing my neighbors. The room had an adjustable restraining table, a small surgical sterilizing facility, a video camera, TV and VCR for recording, a microwave and other equipment, such as ceiling and wall hooks. The room had its own plumbing. It was painted in white enamel and all the hardware was of stainless steel. Clean and efficient. Over time, I had castrated a number of other masters’ slaves as well as two of my own.
In preparation for harvesting his glands, I had my slave bathe in hot water to soften and loosen his scrotal skin. Using antiseptic soap, I washed off his entire body and carefully depilated his scrotum. He enjoyed this prepping and became fully erect as I escorted him into my special room. Forbidden to speak, he had given several gasps of pleasure while bathing and being cleaned. At the sight of the table, he let his towel fall to the floor and turned to me with a questioning look. Without a word, I turned him around to face the table, adjusted it to his height, inserted his erection into the hole provided and strapped his legs down firmly, spread apart so that his sac hung down and was easily accessible.
Because I like to operate in silence, there was an inflatable heavy rubber gag supplied by a hose near the table. This I took and placed into my slave’s mouth, on top of his tongue, then turned a stopcock to allow compressed air to inflate the gag. The valve allowed air to flow into the gag. Deflating it was accomplished by unscrewing another valve in the gag. Shortly, the gag filled his mouth. He couldn’t cry out and could breathe only through his nose. I applied the arm and head restraints. I moved the TV in front of the table and opened up the eye slot so that he could see the screen. Next, I positioned the video camera so that an image of his hanging balls appeared on the screen. Completely gagged and tightly restrained, he could watch his own castration.
From the way he was suggestively moving his butt, I could tell that he wanted me to fuck him. I decided to fuck him until he came, holding my own orgasm until he was fully my slave. Using jojoba oil as a lubricant, I inserted myself into his tight butt hole, slowly working my way in. It felt good. It took a lot of pressure to make his sphincter give way, and the slave gave a muffled cry as I suddenly advanced my full length up into him. With willpower, I held myself back, using my prod to massage his prostate until I felt it pulse repeatedly against my cockhead. Although I couldn’t see, I knew that his dick had jetted his last sperm-bearing load out onto the floor under the table. Pulling out immediately, I washed off my cock with antiseptic solution, then painted his dangling sac with antiseptic all the way up and back to his butt hole. Now he was ready. A hair dryer set at maximum heat provided the stream of hot air that loosened his sac and made his balls dangle far from his body. I made a small cut parallel to where his scrotum joined his body. With a small pair of surgical scissors, I snipped carefully around the sac where it joined his body, being careful to cut only the sac skin. When the circle was complete, I tugged his scrotum free, leaving his small balls dangling by their cords from his body. They looked like pinkish-gray cherries hanging there, waiting to be picked. Using my electrocautery needle, I sealed up the bleeders in the circular sac wound. To simplify his nutting, I twirled his balls around each other until the cords formed a single braid. This I sutured off as close to his body as possible. “Are you ready to give up your balls, slave?” He nodded his head. With a single swipe of the scalpel, I harvested his manhood. Working quickly, I cauterized the ends of the cords, then ran a suture in and out of the skin all the way around the open cut where his sac had been. With one finger, I pushed the cords back up into his body, then drew the suture very tight, closing the sac wound like a purse. I tied off the suture and spent a few minutes cauterizing any spots that looked as if they might bleed. When the wound healed, my slave would have a small roseate scar just below the base of his penis instead of a sac containing balls. A big improvement for a slave, believe me. I painted the area with antiseptic again. Now it was my turn. First, I loosened the straps that were immobilizing his legs. After painting my sac with antiseptic to avoid spreading infection, I inserted myself into his backside again and took my pleasure as the first man to have this eunuch slave. My pleasure was enhanced by his rapid movements, and, after a few minutes I emptied my balls up his ass with a great cry of release. A fully satisfying orgasm, one I would not soon forget.
I deflated his gag and freed him from the restraints. He stood up and looked at me expectantly. “Clean up the room. When you are finished, bring me your severed parts,” I ordered. After about twenty minutes, he presented me with his severed balls in a small stainless steel bowl.. My inspection revealed that he had done an excellent job cleaning up. Everything was sterilized and back where it belonged. An excellent job. This slave would serve me well. I picked up his dead balls. “Open your mouth, slave!” I placed his balls into his open mouth and closed it. “Now, chew and swallow.” He did so. So began his life as my eunuch slave.
The door to my room is closed as I lay on my bed, touching my naked body.
My chest is hairless, except for a few wisps around my nipples, which are pinker and larger than they used to be.
I trail my hand down to my stomach, which has lost most of its definition. My penis lies flat and soft, a tiny version of the dick that once was my pride and joy.
And underneath the base of my penis is a small pouch, a flap of skin really. I touch the thin scar that shows where my scrotum was split, my testicles removed.
I stroke my dick with one hand, playing with my tender nipples with the other. My penis swells slightly, expanding to perhaps 3 inches in length. This is as close to an erection as I get these days.
I work my dick furiously, pinching my tits harder and harder. After 20 minutes, I feel a release building as the shaft barely expands. Then a weak spasm of pleasure signals orgasm. I look down and see a small pool of clear fluid, no larger than a quarter, under the tip of my wilting cock.
I weep into my pillow, remembering my proud, firm shaft that used to spray copious jets of white cum all over my chest. Next week I turn 20 years old, beginning my first full year as a eunuch.
It was only six months ago that I answered the personal ad that changed my life forever. I’ve always been attracted to older men, so when I saw he was 42, it caught my eye. The ad said he was fit and attractive, and interested in topping an 18+ boy. It also said he liked ball play.
As soon as I met him for coffee, I knew that Greg certainly didn’t lie in his ad. He looked like he was in his early 30s, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time at the gym. His bright blue eyes and wide smile won my heart right away. When he suggested that we head back to his apartment, I almost jumped out of my chair.
Greg had a beautiful house, very nicely furnished. It sure was a step up from the dumpy apartment I was living in. His bedroom was amazing, with a gorgeous king-sized bed with four posters. Greg came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me. I almost melted as he pulled my shirt up and began playing with my tits.
The sex was amazing. Greg was a dynamo, and before I knew it I was on my back with my feet in the air, and his cock buried deep inside my ass. I was so turned on feeling him pump me and hearing him groan in pleasure, that I shot my wad without even touching myself!
He followed a few seconds later. “Here Mark, swallow it all,” he said smiling, as he pulled his condom off and held it over my mouth, letting his semen drip onto my tongue. It was such a turn-on that my cock sprung back to life. Greg laughed and suggested we sit in his hot tub before beginning round two.
I enjoyed the feeling of the water surging around my naked body, but seeing this gorgeous man sitting next to me was more than I could take. After a few minutes, I bobbed my head under the water and began sucking his cock, which quickly hardened to its 7-inch length.
After we got back to his bedroom, Greg went to his dresser and retrieved a leather strap from the top drawer. “It’s time those balls of yours learned their place,” he said, smiling. He pushed me down on the bed and spread my legs, and wrapped the strap around my ballsack. It felt a little tight, but my cock got hard as I saw my purple sack tied up in a little pouch, my balls straining against its sides.
This time he fucked me from behind, with me on my hands and knees. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, ramming his prick in and out of my hole. Just before he shot his load, he grabbed my bound sack and squeezed it real hard. I shouted in pain just as he cried out in pleasure.
“I hope you’ll get used to having your nuts mistreated,” he said, unsnapping the strap and freeing my balls. “I’ve got big plans for those little guys.” I smiled as I felt the blood rushing back into my sack. I had to admit that the combination of pain and pleasure was a big turn-on.
A few weeks later, I moved my belongings into Greg’s house. The same day, he asked me to stay naked whenever I was home. The idea appealed to me, so I agreed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said, and I tossed my clothes onto the couch.
“I want you to always wear this around the house,” he said, holding up a leather device. “This is a ball stretcher. I think you’ll like it.” It took him a few minutes, but Greg managed to squeeze my sack into the stretcher, which separated my balls and pulled them down and away from my body. My cock responded instantly, pointing straight up. “Excellent,” he grinned, taking my swollen dick in his hand and stroking it.
As the weeks went on, Greg became more extreme about my balls. He wanted me to sleep in the ball stretcher, and then to wear it when I left the house too. The only time I could take it off was during a shower or bath.
He became rougher during our ball play, too. He loved to squeeze and slap my tied-up nuts until I begged him to stop. Then we began bondage play, where he would tie my hands and feet to the bedposts. One time, he made me lie down so my balls dangled off the end of the bed. Then he attached weights to my sack.
“Fuck, that’s really starting to hurt!” I yelled, tugging at my restraints. “Relax, Mark,” he said. “You’ll get used to it soon. It always hurts in the beginning. You have to work up to the really heavy stuff.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but there wasn’t anything I could do. My balls were killing me as the weights pulled them toward the floor. He left them on for a half hour, then released me from my torment.
That night I began thinking about leaving Greg. But deep down I knew I couldn’t. I was strongly attracted to him, and we were having the best sex of our lives. And honestly, I enjoyed having my nuts mistreated, even though Greg seemed to go a little far sometimes.
Then I started noticing something that really bothered me. I began having problems during sex. It took me longer to get erect, and my dick wasn’t getting as hard as before. It was harder to keep it up, too.
When I told Greg I was worried about it, a smile came over his face. “Don’t worry hon. Every guy goes through that at some point. It won’t last.”
But it didn’t get any better. Sometimes I didn’t get hard at all as he fucked me, which never happened before. So, Greg got me a prescription for Viagra. That seemed to work, at least for the moment.
Then came the night Greg tried something new. He restrained me as usual, face up and arms and legs tied to the posts. Then he went to the dresser and brought out something I had never seen before. It was silver, with long handles. He had a box with green bands in it too.
“What is that?” I asked nervously, as Greg attached the band to the device and opened it wide. “Relax,” he smiled, moving between my legs. “You’ll love this.”
He grabbed my nuts and pushed them through the stretched band. Then he maneuvered the device until the band was released. Suddenly my sack was banded tighter than it had ever been. And it began hurting like a bitch!
“Jesus, take that off me!” I screamed, bucking and pulled on my restraints. “Mark, take it easy!” he said, kissing me on my sweaty forehead. “I’ll only leave it on for a few minutes. I wanted you to feel what it was like.”
After awhile, my balls were aching less, but my stomach started hurting. That’s when Greg took some shears and cut my band off.
After releasing me, Greg explained that he used an elastrator on me. It was used to castrate farm animals. If you leave the band on long enough, it cuts off the blood supply and kills the balls. Then they just fall off after a few weeks.
“Don’t worry, hon. I would never let that happen to you,” he smiled.
By now, I was really starting to worry about my sex drive. Even with Viagra, I couldn’t seem to keep a good erection. I began wondering if all the ball play was damaging my sexual performance.
Then came the worst day of my life. Greg was out, and I was sitting at his computer looking at the Internet. I just happened to look at his bookmarks, and saw a strange one: The Eunuch Archive. What a shock I got! The site was all about guys getting castrated. And a lot of stories mentioned an elastrator!
“I was hoping you wouldn’t find that.”
I spun around and saw Greg behind me. I tried to get up but he pushed me back into the chair. Then he spun my chair around and threw his arms around me, pinning me down. I struggled, but Greg was much bigger and stronger than me.
It only took a few minutes before I was on the bed, with Greg tying my hands and feet to the posts. I screamed and swore, but he didn’t stop until I was tightly bound.
“Please Greg. Don’t hurt me,” I sobbed as he went to the dresser and pulled the elastrator from the drawer. “I hoped we could have done this an easier way, Mark,” he said, slipping the band over the metal device. “But you’ve forced my hand.”
I bucked and thrashed with all my might, but Greg ignored it. Soon he was sitting on the bed, forcing my sack through the band. Snap! It felt like someone kicked me in the balls. “Fuck!! Take it off! Please Greg!!”
But Greg was calmly putting another band on the elastrator. He pushed my aching sack through the hoop and attached another band to my scrotum.
“I wanted to do this differently, Mark,” he said, sitting down next to me as I squirmed and moaned from the pain. “You see, I was gradually castrating you, killing your balls. It was all carefully planned.
“You were slowly losing the ability to get hard. That was from all the ball play. Eventually, your balls would have been practically dead, and you would have gladly agreed to give them up when I suggested it.”
Greg said that since I was a complete bottom, I didn’t really need my balls. They only got in the way. “Take a look, hon. Your balls are in real trouble right now.”
I stretched my neck and was shocked at how my sack looked. It was a dark purple, almost black. The pain had spread to my abdomen. I never felt so awful.
“Now, it’s your choice,” Greg said. “I could leave the bands on, and your balls would die. But that will take another hour, and that’s a long time to be hurting so bad.”
“What’s my choice then?” I said, tears pouring from my eyes. “Well, I could remove your balls right now. It’s much faster, and in the end much cleaner. Just a few cuts and it’s over.”
It all seemed like a nightmare. But it was no dream. My sack was dying, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. So I nodded to Greg. He smiled and smoothed my sweat-soaked hair. “Good boy,” he said with a smile.
Greg put on a pair of surgical gloves, and got some towels from the bathroom. “Now, this might sting a little,” he said, showing me a small silver scalpel. I closed my eyes and awaited the first cut.
Greg sliced through the center of my scrotum, and pulled my two balls out of the sack. I saw him suturing the stalks holding my manhood in place. Then he quickly severed my left ball free. Dropping the bloody testicle onto the towel, he repeated the cut on my right ball. I was now a eunuch.
That was three months ago. Despite what he did to me, I didn’t leave Greg. I was still totally in his power. And after I healed, we resumed our sexual activities. I began to enjoy the stimulation his hard cock gave my prostate. Every once in awhile I’m able to get a semi-erection, and even cum a little. But Greg says that won’t last much longer.
I awake with a jolt when several intruders invade my bedroom and pin me to my bed.
The blankets are taken off me, and my underwear is pulled down. Someone has me in a head lock, others have my arms pinned, and yet more have my spread legs securely immobilized.
My ball bag is squeezed by a merciless hand and yanked violently down toward my thighs. I feel as though my testicles will be pulled right off my body because my scrotum cannot be stretched any more. My balls instinctively attempt to find refuge in my lower abdomen but they are held captive by the intruders.
All I can see are the shadowed forms of my assailants in the soft glow of a nightlight plugged into the wall near my bed. I count at least a half-dozen of them.
I feel the cold sharpness of a knife blade press against my scrotum and I discern a sawing motion there as my nut sack yields to the blade without resistance. And suddenly I realize that I am about to be castrated right there in my bed! I squirm and attempt to wrestle free, but I am held firm. I cannot stop what is about to happen. I surrender to the inevitable: I am going to be emasculated!
The one at my head hisses fiendishly, “You know what this is about, don’t you?”
Of course I knew. I had been warned that if I ever went public with the details of my brief same-sex affair with a male celebrity, I would be compelled to surrender my balls as payment for my disclosure. I knew the eventuality of this, but I never actually dreamed it would really happen!
But here I was, legs spread, naked, my genitals exposed, vulnerable and unprotected, and my balls about to be excised from my crotch. It was really going to happen! I was really going to lose my balls! My testicles were actually going to be taken!
As I contemplate my impending castration, my mind frantically mulls over the events leading up to this moment…
I met Armando “Marty” Martinez (his stage name) when I, as a cable repairman, was summoned to his home to run a diagnostic check on all his cable junction boxes.
It was the last service call of the day. Marty answered the door in his bathrobe and explained that he was about to take a shower when I knocked.
When it was obvious to Marty by the look on my face that I was trying to place his familiarity in my mind, he grinned and said calmly, “I know, you think you’ve met me before. I was on that TV show back in the 90s. You’probably seen me on TV.”
Of course! That’s why he looked so familiar. Truth be known, I had a crush on Marty when I watched that show. I’m sure that I, along with many a female teeny-bopper, fantasized about being with him naked.
He showed me where the junction boxes were; living room, dining area, and bedroom, and then hit the shower.
I quickly ruled out any problems in the two junctions boxes in the front rooms, and so focused on the one in Marty’s bedroom.
Once there, however, I gaped shamelessly at Marty’s beautiful nakedness in that shower! He had not bothered to close the bathroom door, and was on full lustful display in my line of sight where I worked on the junction box. It’s as though Marty wanted to be seen.
I chose to pursue this career because it seemed the macho thing to do. You see, I am a closeted queer scared to death that my homosexuality will become known to others, and I pump iron, keep in shape, and talk about my exploits with women so that no one will know my secret sexual identity or compulsions. But when afforded the opportunity to look at men or check out the guys, I can’t help myself. I give in to my lusts and unrestrained fantasies every time.
I am also attracted to women, but my most powerful urges and desires are for men. And so when I caught furtive glances at Marty’s nakedness, I was captivated in a way difficult to describe! Not only was he a great looking guy, he was famous!
I surveyed his olive-toned skin. I lusted over his genital region remarkable for its thick black pubic hair, uncircumcised penis and dangling nut sack. When Marty turned toward the shower head to rinse off, his backside was in full erotic display for me. I became fixated on his butt, the sensuality of his crack, his strong leg muscles and his chiseled back muscles. He kept in shape; beautiful statuesque shape!
I fumbled with my tools as I shot glances at him in that shower.I don’t recall now if I even fixed the problem with the cable I was so obsessed and distracted by his nakedness.
Occasionally, we made eye contact, and Marty smiled. Even though I was embarrassed to be caught looking at him, I was drawn to him and that smile I’d seen a dozen times on that TV show.
After his shower, he wrapped a towel around his loins and offered me a drink. I declined, telling him I was on call and couldn’t risk a DUI. He then offered me a soft drink, which I accepted.
As we talked in the dining area where the bar was, he kept fidgeting with that towel. Occasionally it slipped down a little and I caught a glimpse of a cheek, or a small bit of pubic hair. He even once pulled it all the way off and re-wrapped himself with it, giving me a full view of his beautiful naked body.
He told me that after the show was canceled he cut a few albums, and did bit roles in some movies, and was lately highlighting a midnight show in Las Vegas. He was 38-years-old, two years my senior.
I have to admit that I enjoyed being in the presence of this famous guy and didn’t really want to leave. He seemed interested in knowing about me, and asked questions about my job, my family, and future plans.
After about 45 minutes, he looked me square in the eyes and asked, “Did you like what you saw in the shower?”
I was floored! Damn straight I liked it! But I sheepishly looked down and barely muttered, “Yes.”
He stood up and let the towel fall to the floor. He sat next to me on the sofa and began unzipping my pants. Within seconds I was as naked as he was! Even though I was reveling in what was happening, heady that this was a famous celebrity, and eager for what was going to happen next, I was aware that I had worked all day, and that I didn’t smell very good. I mentioned it to him.
“Not at all,” Marty responded. “I sometimes enjoy the male scent of a working man: his musky under arm aroma, the faint fragrance of his sweat, and the unabashed smell of his crotch.”
So there it was: I was being hit on by a famous celebrity! And I was enjoying it to the hilt!
We soon ended up in Marty’s bed where he was brutal and aggressive in his seduction. While I enjoyed sucking his penis and caressing his masculine features, Marty seemed more interested in using me as a sexual plaything. He pounded his erect cock into my anus, stabbed my butt hole with his finger, and forced his aroused penis into my mouth so far I thought the back of my throat would be pierced by it. While he penetrated my eager anus, I feared his thrusting would rupture my rectum and my prostate. I attempted a time or two to resist, but Marty became more aggressive.
So I relented and allowed this man to have his way with me. While I was alarmed and shocked a few times at his muscular mastery over me, I also wanted him in the worst way. Not only was I being fucked by a famous man whom I had lusted over a decade and a half ago, this was my first same sex encounter!
Yet when we tangled in those bed sheets and worked up a sex-saturated sweat, Marty seemed to be performing to an unseen audience, and some of the things he said were not directed toward me as much as to an anonymous personality not there in the room with us. It occurred to me then that he had put something in his drink to enhance his libido and his energy.
When I was able to be dominant, I wanted to discover his anus. Common folks like me are always curious about the rich and famous: do they have pee holes and butt holes? Do they piss and shit? Do they react like normal, regular folks?
I had him on his belly sprawled out on the bed. I gently parted his to-die-for cheeks, and exposed his secret little puckered anal slit. Its circular shaped was brownish in color. I was overcome with lust and slid my finger in. He groaned in pleasure so I removed my finger and stimulated his famous anus with my tongue. Marty groaned again, more appreciatively.
I then wanted to satisfy another curiosity: I wanted to have this famous man’s aroused penis in my mouth again. I wanted to suck his nuts dry. I wanted to comb his pubes with my teeth. Marty climaxed powerfully in my mouth without warning. He pumped spurt after spurt of sperm into my mouth and onto my tongue. While my mouth eagerly accepted his cum, I was somewhat repulsed by the salty, slippery texture of his sperm. Even while the taste and warm feel was objectionable, I tried to savor it and then I swallowed it because I wanted to see what a famous person’s cum tasted and felt like. It burned my throat as it slid down into my belly. I resisted the compulsion to spit due to the after taste of his sperm because he was famous and I wanted to experience every aspect of this.
Finally, Marty was ready for my climax. But instead of masturbating me, or offering me his anus, his grabbed my nut sack and squeezed it tight, telling me, “You’d better enjoy your last cum because once you’re through squirting, I’m going to cut your balls off!”
He had me get on my hands and knees again, and yanked my balls back so far I knew he’d be able to stuff them up my asshole. So there I was, my butt facing Marty, my balls pulled tight in his hands, facelessly being compelled to cum so that he could cut my balls off! And yet, there was a thrill and excitement to this moment I have a hard time describing. My balls were at his mercy. He was threatening to castrate me once I climaxed. I was naked, my butt hole was exposed before him, and my hard cock was dangling between my legs. I looked up and saw our reflection in the mirror. What a rush! He was kneeling behind me taking possession of my testicles, threatening me with their removal, warning me to enjoy it because it was my last, and I did not want to stop it, full well knowing what he was threatening to do!
“If you don’t cum now, you never will,” he said warningly. I reached down and took firm hold of my penis. I began stroking it. At that moment, Marty slid his finger into my anus and began poking my prostate. Between the pleasurable sensations on my penis, the violating naughtiness of my anus being penetrated, and the menacing finality of Marty’s strong grasp on my squeezed testicles, I shot a powerful and prolonged stream of sperm all over Marty’s bed sheets. I pumped and pumped and pumped while Marty encouraged me with, “That’s right, give it all to me. Empty yourself. Pump your nuts dry. I have your balls in my hand and while you are having a climax right now, I hold in my hand all your future orgasms.”
I shot until I was sure I was dry, and then collapsed on the bed. Marty turned lose of my balls and slowly removed his finger from my anus. I shot another spurt or two of cum as he did.
I showered before I left that evening. But Marty had me sign some form he said protected him from “kiss and tell” lovers who exploited him and then made money on revealing details of his private life. I signed the form without reading it because I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone I had a queer encounter with an actor! Not even my parents knew I was a gay man.
Thus began an affair that lasted for several weeks. During our sex times, Marty became more and more verbal about castrating me, a threat I found curiously exciting and exhilarating. I can’t explain it, but when Marty yanked my balls as far away from my body as my scrotum would allow, and then announced passionately that my balls were his and were free for the taking, I became powerfully aroused and desirous of the extreme nakedness and exposure these utterances invoked in me!
I harbored a deep desire for Marty to take my testicles and keep them. The thought of being castrated at the height of an orgasm was powerfully arousing! Losing them at the precise moment of my most prolific ejaculations make me feel so naked and exposed, I dripped precum from my pee hole even when Marty wasn’t around.
As our sex play evolved, Marty revealed to me his own castration compulsions. He demanded that I bite his balls as hard as I could prior to his orgasm. He ordered me to suck his nuts right out of his sack! He said he would slice my nuts off if I didn’t bite his off! Such talk was so erotic and abruptly sensual, I just couldn’t get naked enough to satisfy my lusts. I enjoyed such encounters immensely. But yet, when we were sexing together, Marty just seemed to use me for his jollies and I never felt that my affection for him was requited. I had feelings for him that I didn’t think were mutual. It just seemed that I was a boy toy for him. Yet I couldn’t stop my descent.
I asked him once what he’d do with my testicles if he ever took them.
“I’d mount them on a plaque and openly display them as a warning to future lovers who are tempted to ‘kiss and tell,'” he said.
He insisted that I stay at his house full-time. He wanted me to remain completely naked 24/7, and be ready and available for his sexual needs at a moment’s notice.
Before long, I was beginning to see why famous people were so much different than us regular folks: they didn’t have to punch a time card and occupy their waking hours with the duties of keeping body and soul together. Marty’s demands on my life, my time, my anus and my mouth, began to interfere with my job.
I was soon fired for calling off so many times, and as my bills piled up and my rent was overdue, I became desperate.
My desperation was only met with more aloofness from Marty, who took a “wham-bam-thank-you-man” stance with me. When it became clear that I could not keep up with his sexual compulsions, Marty kicked me out of his house and told me not to return. I was barely able to get some clothes on my back before being shown the door.
Unemployed, hungry, pissed off, and resentful that I had been used and abused, I decided I was going to retaliate. But how? Then I remembered Marty’s “kiss and tell” fear. I called a tabloid newspaper and negotiated an exclusive story that netted me several thousand dollars. In the story I related how Marty had seduced me, was a flaming homo, enjoyed castration play, and was into some BDSM as well.
Yet, Marty’s career potential only escalated from that point on. He was a guest on talk shows, nailed down another recording contract, and was cast for an upcoming new movie that was sure to be a box office success. And in the days subsequent to the tabloid’s appearance in the supermarkets, I was struck with the fact that scandal only seemed to enhance a famous person’s career! That’s another way celebrities are different than the rest of us. Things that would normally obliterate us were the very things that elevated the famous into stellar heights!
I finally had to take a job as a waiter in a nice restaurant, and tried to put my experiences with Armando “Marty” Martinez (stage name) behind me.
Several more weeks passed before the midnight visitation by armed assailants.
As the blade begins its brief journey through my scrotum I relive all these events and come to understand that that form I signed in Marty’s house gave my consent to my castration. I realize that Marty is really going to take possession of my testicles and be the owner of all my future orgasms as my masculine orbs are removed from my crotch.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my breathing becomes labored. I mumble through my attackers’ hands to please halt. He removes his hand from my mouth. Knowing there was no persuading these intruders to abort their mission of castrating me and delivering my balls to Marty, I say in manic desperation,
“As long as you’re going to cut my balls off, would you please allow me to cum one last time?”
In the darkness of my room, I discern that the intruders are looking at each other and wordlessly considering my request.
“What harm would it do?” Says one. I see in the soft darkness another one nod his head. They still keep my legs pinned to the bed, but one of them frees my right arm.
“Okay, you’ve got five minutes, but we’re going to keep the knife at your balls and if you don’t cum within that deadline, we’re just going to slice them off and you’ll be denied your last cum!”
I frantically and feverishly begin working my soft penis over. It doesn’t respond. In my fear and panic, I worry that I’ll be denied my final orgasm out of the shear horror of my impending emasculation.
I hear the impatient sighs and breathing of my captors. Two minutes pass and I’m not even hard yet!
“Could you help me?” I ask plaintively.
“What?” says one of them.
“Could you insert your finger into my anus and stimulate my prostate? I think I might be able to get this over with quicker if you do.”
One of them jokes, “Can you believe this guy? He’s about to be nutted and he begs us to help him get off one last time!”
I am so desperate and desirous of one last cum that I am reduced to begging my cutters to help me cum before they nut me! I am driven by not only a compulsion to shoot my final load, but to request that my castrators help me with my final shoot! And I am perfectly willing to wank right in front of them and have my sperm eruption be a public event!
Yet even in my disbelief, I am enormously aroused when one of them pushes his finger into my anal hole all the way to the knuckle. My penis leaps a little. I envision that the finger is Marty’s aroused cock seeking a rectal orgasm and my penis grows again. My assailant probes my butt hole and pumps my prostate. My anal ring tightens around his finger and I’m able to wrap my hand around my hardening penis.
I wank for all I’m worth as the clock ticks towards my impending castration. I relive some of the sex encounters with Marty, and his castration play and threats. I recollect his beautiful nakedness, his pulsating penis and spurting sperm. I savor the memory of his lovely puckered, wrinkled anus and the taste, aroma and feel of his butt hole as I tongue him out. I feverishly stroke my fully-hard penis now as I reflect on Marty’s threats to deball me as he yanks my balls as far from my crotch as my stretched scrotum will allow. My butt cheeks are exposed and have been invaded by my assailants. I am as naked now as I’ve ever been. I am strangely enjoying this ordeal having accepted its inevitability.
Just as I’m about to erupt in a seismic orgasm, I feel the knife begin to work again, its sharpness slicing through my soft scrotum, my-soon-to-be-excised testicles at the mercy of the blade. My anus compresses around the finger of my nutter tighter than its ever been. My mind becomes blurred with orgasmic, hypnotic ecstasy. The knife continues my emasculation. My hand works my penis more feverishly now. Deep in my bowels I sense the combination of anal penetration and prostate pounding as my sperm convulsively makes its way from deep within me to my throbbing cock.
I feel the blade about half way through my ball bag as my first spurt of sperm shoots out about a foot in the air and lands on my belly. My cutter pulls on my scrotum harder and I feel as though my balls will be pulled off before they’re cut off. A second and then third voluminous sea of sperm erupts from my penis. My senses are heightened. My breathing sporadic. My eyes become glazed over as the inevitability of my orgasm gushes forth with a torrential flow of cum, simultaneously aware that my balls are being cut from my body at that precise moment!
The severing is complete.
I am all climaxed out now. My balls are held up by my cutter and I see my nut sack and its precious masculine contents in the soft glow of the nightlight. I have been rendered nutless. I am not the man I used to be. I am a eunuch now!
As I contemplate my emasculation, I fully relax my body in an after-orgasm let down. The man’s finger is slowly removed from my butt and the sensations of anal violation prompt me to squirt another small drop of cum. It dribbles from the tip of my softening penis, and streams down my fist which is still wrapped around my male member. The sperm on my belly begins to cool.
Now that I’m unmanned, I’m not a threat to my assailants. They turn loose of me and I sink down deeply in my bed, my hand still holding my penis.
A towel is placed at my crotch to staunch the flow of blood. I am still breathing heavily as I watch my assailants place my severed testicles in a sandwich bag.
“The boss will want to see them,” one of them mutters.
They all exit my room as I lay panting on my bed. I look down at my chest and belly and in the soft glow of the nightlight, I see the glistening globs of my final orgasm pooled there. I have no balls any more, hence I’ll have no more sperm, no more sexual urges, and no more obsessions. But then, it was my obsessions that got me into this predicament, I realize.
Nutless and naked, I contemplate whether getting my rocks off with a celebrity was worth getting my rocks cut off. I conclude that it wasn’t. But the ride I was on that ultimately resulted in my testicles being taken was such a rush, I know I’ll relive the pleasures, the pain, the erotica, and the recollections of it for the rest of my life!
Now that my testicles have been taken, memories are all I’ll have left!
I rise gently from my bed, and dial 9-1-1, remembering what Marty said he’d do with my testicles if he had to take them: mount them on a plaque in his home to display for future lovers who may be tempted to “kiss and tell.”