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...
My new slave seemed a wonder. He’d been mine for about six months and he seemed just about perfect. When I first got him, he was not in shape, but after two or three months of the strenuous workouts I put him through, he firmed up and started looking really good. One thing I found out: always break a slave in the very first day. With him, after first explaining that he should expect this for disobeying me, I stripped him down, tied him up and gave him a thorough whipping. I whipped him until both my arms were tired, then I squeezed his balls so hard he passed out. When he woke up, I bathed him, rubbed antibiotic ointment into his whip marks and let him get what sleep he could. After that, he was very obedient. Sexually, I treated him as the girl – he was never allowed to do anything but accept my juice as I presented it to him. He was taught to suck and fuck in all positions. Sometimes, I would whip him and then fuck him. Other times, if I felt he hadn’t been quite enthusiastic enough, I would whip him after fucking him. Several times I whipped him thoroughly for allowing his teeth to touch my cock while he was sucking me off. After a few weeks of hard discipline, he knew exactly what was expected of him and performed all his duties eagerly. In fact, before too long, he would occasionally ask to be whipped. From time to time, I would cut off the circulation to his balls by wrapping a cloth around his scrotum and tying a strand of wire around the cloth. The cloth kept the wire from slicing into his skin and allowed me to cut off the blood supply without much pain. At first, I would leave the tourniquet on for fifteen minutes or so, until his sac turned pale blue. Over a few months, I left it on longer and longer, extending the time to three quarters of an hour, after which his sac became numb. The longest I kept him tied off was two hours. The one time I did that, he complained of a headache that lasted the entire next day. These were just play sessions. No harm was done to his balls and they stayed the same size. My slave was very afraid of castration. The few times I mentioned it as a way of making him better adjust to his role he became extremely upset and begged me never to do such a thing to him. Naturally, I told him that his remaining intact depended on how obedient he was. It could never be his decision. After all, I was the master.
We had been living together for a while and I was satisfied with his performance. One Saturday, I went out in the early afternoon to run some errands. I instructed him to clean the apartment and wait for my return that evening. About two hours later I came up in the service elevator and let myself in through the kitchen door, intending to drop off my purchases and finish up my errands. My ears picked up the sounds of active sex from the bedroom down the hall. I walked quickly along the thickly carpeted hallway to the bedroom. In the hall was a toolkit and some coaxial cable. Through the half open door, I saw my slave on the bed with his butt in the air, taking the cable installer’s long black dick up his butt. I could see my slave’s erection jutting out under him. He was wiggling his ass and begging for more. His face was to the wall away from me. The cable installer was hunched over him, fucking him fast and deep. I watched for a short time until my slave’s seed jetted out over the towel he had place under himself on the bed. I walked back into the kitchen. Soon I heard them kissing. Then the hall door opened and closed. My slave went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I unpacked and put away the groceries, allowing my anger to build slowly. Faithless slave! In this age of the plague I had seen him having unprotected sex with a stranger. For this he would be punished. And banished.
While he was showering and douching, I called a slave dealer who was known to take disobedient slaves off masters’ hands for a reasonable fee. How much fee depended on whether the slave was healthy. Healthy slaves’ organs could be sold off. Ill ones, I had been told, were sent to mines in foreign countries where they were worked to death. A brief discussion concluded our dealings. I told him the slave might be ill, but that it was too soon to tell. He offered the lower price, explaining that to keep the slave until it could be tested reliably was excessively expensive. When he asked if the slave were a eunuch, I said “Yes.” Not true at the moment, but soon, very soon. We agreed on a price. I gave the dealer my address and told him at what time that night to come up from the garage in the service elevator to my floor and that I would let him in.
My slave emerged from the bathroom, clean and pink from the hot shower and a brisk toweling off. He seemed delighted to see me. I ordered him into the bedroom. There was no trace of his previous activities. He had cleaned up well. I went to the closet and took out my portable punishment table. “Set up the table,” I ordered. “Master, why? I’ll do anything you ask. I can satisfy you better if I’m not bound up.” “Shut up, slave. Do as I say. Now!” He proceeded to set up the table. It’s solid oak, and once the legs are down and the cross braces in place, it’s sturdy as a solid piece of wood. The main part is for the torso, and there’s a hinged wing with adjustable leg restraints. There are neck, shoulder, wrist, abdomen and hip straps to hold the slave’s upper body in place. There’s hole cut out for his face to go into when the neck strap is tight. His legs go over the hinged wing, which can be adjusted from straight out from the body of the table to down at a right angle pointing toward the floor. The wing has restraints for the thighs, calves and ankles. These can be moved closer to or further from the center of the wing, depending on how far you want the slave’s legs spread during his punishment session. I fastened him to the upper portion of the table with the wrist, neck, and chest straps. Reaching down, I lifted his hips with one hand and tucked his prick up under his pubic hair, then released his hips and cinched the hip restraint tight, imprisoning his prick between the table and his body. His balls hung free. Next, I strapped his legs in, with the restraints far enough apart that his legs made a “V” with his balls hanging down between. Now he was ready.
Like a typically unruly slave, he spoke. “Master, what are you going to do? I can’t move my butt if you fuck me, and I know you like that.” I closed the bedroom door so no sound could escape. “Fuck you?” I asked. He became silent for a moment. “W what are you g going to do?” he stuttered. I walked around and tilted the table up so that I could look at his face. “Subhuman pig,” I began, “You are just an animal for me to do with as I wish. I saw you being fucked earlier. You are not allowed to be fucked without my permission. I certainly would not give you permission to engage in unprotected fucking with a cable installer, pig of a slave!” He looked at me with surprise that gave way to fear. “Slave, you, in this time of plague, decided to endanger your health and, had I not known about it, mine as well! You are a pig and I will castrate you just as a pig is castrated.” He blinked as my words sank in. Whatever words of protest he had died on his lips. I walked around behind him ready to start work. Then he begged and pleaded, crying, swearing he would never do it again, just, please, please one more chance. I said nothing. With a hair dryer, I heated his scrotum until his balls hung as far from his body as possible. By then he was crying, sobbing. After putting on my surgical gloves, I painted his scrotum with disinfectant and warmed it again to keep his balls hanging away from his body. I took a piece of strong wire, rinsed it in disinfectant and tied it around his scrotum as close to his body as possible, then pulled it as tight as I could. He cried out. Next, I took a small scalpel and made two cuts, each from just above one of his balls to just below it, exactly as one castrates a pig. He screamed in pain. I slowly expressed each ball through its cut so that it hung completely outside his sac. Using two clamps, I closed off the cords connecting each ball to his body. As each clamp bit down, he gasped. With the scalpel, I severed the cord connecting his right testicle. It fell to the floor. I listened with amusement to his pleading: “Oh please master, leave me with one ball. I couldn’t stand being a eunuch. Have mercy, master. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never do anything like that again.” A quick swipe with the scalpel and the job was complete. He screamed and cried as I cauterized the ends of the cords, removed the clamps, tested for bleeders and glued the cuts in his sac back together. It had taken eight minutes to cleanse him of his maleness. I took his freshly severed balls around and dangled them by their cords in front of his face. At the sight of them he screamed and passed out.
The newly-made eunuch pig was sobbing again when I let the dealer in, so I gagged him. The dealer gave him a shot to knock him out and together we released his unconscious body from the punishment table and put it into a trunk. I took the dealer’s cash and wished him luck as he and the trunk containing my former slave began their descent into the garage and his waiting truck. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I thought as I dropped the testicles into the garbage disposal. I resolved to nut my next slave at the very first opportunity.