Master and Slave 2

Twink Cuts Off Own Balls

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.

Master and Slave

Starting Castration By Placing Castration Bands

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.