Tricked

Starting Castration By Placing Castration Bands

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.

Banded

 

I was always a farm boy, although I think I thought of myself more as a rancher than a field worker. We raised crops for sure, corn mostly, and I’ve been working in the fields since I can remember. But what I liked best were the animals, and I have always enjoyed that part of it far more than tending crops. Yeah, I’ve loved animals as long as I can remember. My dad raised cattle, hogs, and sheep, which is an unusual combination, but he liked the variety and if the price fell for one of them then our market losses were often offset by having the other breeds to sell.

I was probably eight or nine the first time I saw a bander being used, and by the time I was a thirteen year old I was an old hand as castrating livestock. It wasn’t so much that I enjoyed it, as it was just a chore that had to be done. Still, when you are slipping thick rubber bands around a young bull’s scrotum or nutting the young hogs one after the other you are certainly aware of what you are doing, and I’d always get hard when it was going on. I don’t know why, but I did, but it wasn’t so much that I was consciously thinking about it. I mean, it’s just a chore. If you aren’t gonna breed them, then if they’ve got balls you nut them, plain and simple, and the bander is the easiest way to do it. Just put on the band, and after that it does the work and within a couple of weeks their balls literally fall right off. I’ve castrated pigs, calves, ponies, and sheep, and I’ve done more scrotums in my lifetime than I can count. Of course, I never thought I’d be banded, never thought that in a million years, although we sometimes would joke about it when we were out doing the animals.

But I think every farm kid alive is aware of the device, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if you put one of those bands around a teenager’s balls, it would do the same thing to him as it would do to any other animal. Of course, animals don’t have any idea what you are doing to them, and they really don’t fight it because they don’t understand what’s happening. My dad uses an EZY, because it’s fast and works well, and it didn’t take me long to master it. All you do is load the device with a pre-made latex band, sized for the animal you are nutting, and then you can do it in less than twenty seconds. It’s a one person deal—and there are no hassles with trying to stretch the band while castrating because the band is already stretched in the device, so it’s a simple matter to slip the scrotum through the spread band, and then just slide it off the jaws of device, clip the band, and it is done. The animal doesn’t even react, and within a half hour or so it’s nuts are numb and after that they just slowly die. Of course, if you ever did a human it would probably be different, cause for one thing a guy KNOWS what his balls are for, and he sure as shit isn’t ever gonna spread his legs and let some guy put some rubber ring around his sack. No, no sane guy alive is ever gonna allow someone to do that. At least, that’s what I thought.

Now, before I describe what happened to me, I guess I should at least talk about punishment on the farm, cause when you misbehaved where I was growing up, you got the strap. Plain and simple, if you screwed up, it was a trip to the barn, and that’s where you bent over one of the low hog fences inside the barn, which was typically about waist high. Then you had to grab and hold onto the lower rung of the fence while dad painted your bare bottom with the strap. At our farm it was a big razor strap, about three feet long and about 1/8 of an inch thick, and that fucker burned like a fire when it was being ripped into your bottom. Now, I know in this day and age that seems cruel, but it was just the way farm boys were punished, and you got used to it and that was that. If you didn’t hang onto the lower rail while you were taking your licks, then dad would use a leather horse rein and tie your wrists together, and then with your hands tied then you bent over the rail, and he looped the leather around the lower rung and after that you weren’t going anywhere no matter how hard you squirmed. Usually when one of the three of us was getting strapped, the other two had to watch, and I’ve watched my older brothers more times than not hanging over the hog fence, their balls swinging as my dad worked that leader strap up between their legs and across their bottom until both cheeks were flame red.

We didn’t get strapped all that often; so it’s not like it was an everyday thing. Dad didn’t strap any of us until we turned thirteen; he said the strap was a man’s punishment and if you didn’t behave as a teenager then you had it coming. Thomas got the strap at sixteen when he got caught smoking. Jeremy got it at 13 for stealing, and again at 14 for lying to mom. He always got his hands tied when he took the strap, cause he would always let go and grab his ass instead of laying there with his legs spread while the strap taught him the lesson.

When Thomas got caught fucking his girlfriend at 19 he got the strap again, and I’ll never forget the way my dad worked that thing on his ass that time. Yeah…sex outside of marriage was one of the big ones, and he strapped my brother’s ass for a good ten minutes. I remember that time well, because my brother’s dick was hard while he was being strapped, and that only infuriated my dad even more.

As for me, I got the strap twice at thirteen, but after that I just behaved myself and never had to feel it again. Still, when I was watching my older brothers get their bottoms lashed I usually grinned, and there was something sort of primal about the way they would jerk and pull and struggle as that piece of leather painted their buttocks cherry red. You didn’t forget a strapping after you saw one, or worse, felt one, and it did cause you to change your behavior that’s for sure. As a farm kid we just learned to respect authority, and I said “yes sir” to my dad without even thinking about doing anything else.

I was one of the good kids, as I wasn’t stupid, and I just figured out it was easier to behave myself, and so I somehow avoided the strap. But I feared it, that’s for sure, as did all of my friends.

Yeah, most of my friend’s parents also used the strap, because in school we would all swap stories, but my best friend in all the world had it worse than any of us. I had the chance to find that out for myself when I was sixteen; that’s when I got to see my best friend get it. I was over at the Kramer’s farm playing with Michael—we had gone squirrel hunting without any luck. Michael’s dad had died when he was a baby, but his mom ran their ranch with an iron fist and she was one woman everyone feared. She had hired a few hands to help her run things, but for the most part she knew what she was doing and she was a woman not to be fooled with.

I had always been polite to her, and been careful, and I was over there a lot because Michael and I were best friends. On the day I saw her strap my best friend it was all over his chores; when we went hunting together he had skipped out on his chores to do it, and so when we got back his mom was less than pleased. I watched him get strapped right in front of me, and I’ll never forget that because he was sixteen and I remember that I was staring and watching him as his mom took care of business.

Now, she didn’t exactly strap him herself, but she might as well have. For the deed itself she went and got one of the hired hands, and this big guy about twenty-five with forearms the size of hams came in and did the job. Yeah, that hired hand burned my best friend’s naked bottom. She had Michael toss his school jacket over a hog fence in their barn, then lay down over it, in about the same way my own dad did it to my brothers. The hired hand secured his wrists together too, just like my dad did, and then he secured them to the bottom rail.

It was all eerily similar to what my brothers got at home, except that when that guy started on my best friend’s naked ass he did it while his mom was yelling and cussing, and he worked that strap right across his cheeks, and into the recess of his crack as well. I’ll never forget watching that, watching Mike’s teenage balls swing as he struggled, and it wasn’t long before he was begging. I tried to leave, but she had insisted I stay, and so while I watched that man burned his naked bottom with that strap with a vengeance. Mike was totally at his mercy, and with his hands tied to that lower rail he was exposed and there was nothing left to my imagination. In a lot of ways his body was the body of a young man, but even so at sixteen he was crying by the time it was done like a ten year old, and I’ll never forget the way his ass bobbed up and down, almost as if he was fucking that fence rail right in front of his mom and me. That hired hand knew exactly what he was doing, and at the end he flicked the tip of the strap right against his hole about six times in a row, and I think that caused Mike’s entire body to jerk and shake, and then he tossed his head back and his eyes went really wide. His hole started to wink at all of us, and as it did he started grunting then, and when he did that she just laughed, and then right after that the hired hand just tossed the strap over my friend’s ass and walked out of the barn. What they knew and what I soon discovered is that Mike had shot his spunk at the end, and I’d never seen a punishment like that, never in my life, and compared to what my brother’s got Mike’s punishment was in a entirely different league. When I went to untie him that’s when I saw it, that he had ejaculated onto his jacket during his punishment. He was so humiliated, and his face was as red as his ass. I didn’t say anything but we both knew what he had done and I got him a rag to wipe up the goo.

When I went home I jacked off just thinking about it. I didn’t see him for a couple of weeks except at school, but the next time I was over at his place he mentioned it, and then we were just staring at each other in a strange sort of way. I’m still not sure what happened next but I told him that I didn’t mind that he had cum, and I admitted that I had jacked off afterwards after I had watched him shoot his spunk. I don’t know why I shared that with him, but then after I did the next thing I knew he asked me if I liked guys, and I hesitated, and then nodded very slowly. That’s when he said: “I figured you did.”

Then he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to my knees. Things just happened then, and he unsnapped his jeans and his cock sprang out and then without any hesitation I just sucked him off until he spurted his jism and I swallowed his teenage seed.

He didn’t return the favor, so I jacked off while he watched. I went home and didn’t know what to say then, but after that he was on my mind constantly. At school he didn’t say anything, and so I wasn’t sure where things stood. I knew it was one sided, and he had a girlfriend at school and they seemed to get more serious right after that, and soon he was dating her whenever he could so I wasn’t sure where we were going.

Finally, after a couple of weeks I invited him over and he came, and when we got together in my barn and were finally alone I asked him if he was mad at me. He said: “Mad? Nope…not at all.” Then, sure as shit, he asked me to suck him again, and I did, and after that it was soon my favorite game. I begged him to suck me, and he licked me once, for a few minutes, but then all I could get him to do was to jerk me off after I had sucked him dry.

Still, it was something. He was always talking of his girlfriend, and how he was going to fuck her soon, and yet whenever we would get together he wanted me to suck him off. Sometimes he would close his eyes and pretend I was her, calling me by her name. That always pissed me off.

I would be sucking him, and he would roll his head back, and with his eyes closed he would say: “Yeah…that’s it Kathy. Yeah…that’s it. Suck it…yeah…just like that. Oh yeah baby….suck my cock. Suck my cock and make me cum!”

I didn’t like him pretending I was his girlfriend, and I almost stopped sucking him because of it. But, I liked the feeling of his dick when he shot, and I loved the taste of his jism even if I was just playing out his girl fantasy as he was enjoying his blowjobs.

He didn’t acknowledge our game, and at school or everywhere else he just acted like nothing special was going on between us. Now, this wasn’t something we did all that often, mostly because we were both too damn busy with our farm chores and didn’t live all that close together. Now, we both knew it was wrong of course, I mean, guys just don’t do stuff with guys, but that didn’t stop either of us from wanting to do stuff whenever we were together, and by the time we were seventeen we had the game pretty much figured out. I would suck him dry, and he would pretend I was his girlfriend. Now, I had this weird idea that I wanted to fuck him. I had never fucked anyone, and didn’t have a girlfriend, but as a farm boy I was constantly aware of all the animals and their fucking, and doing “IT” was certainly on my mind, probably the way it is on the mind of every seventeen year old teenage boy who has ever lived. But he wasn’t into that, and so it was just this fantasy, this need that could not be truly satisfied by jacking my cock with my fist.

Then, when he was seventeen and a half he ask me if he could borrow two hundred dollars from me. He was working on a set of wheels, and I figured if he got a pickup I’d have a chance to see more of him, not less, and I had the money saved so I loaned it. But when I did I said to him, “I’ll give you the money, but you gotta pay it back to me by my birthday. If you don’t, then you bend over and I get to fuck you.”

He had laughed, but agreed, and after that it was sort of this unsaid thing we both shared, and I would kid him about it. He was working chores to pay me back, and he had the full intention to do so, and so I didn’t honestly believe I’d ever mount his hole. But I wanted to, and I fantasized about it. Well, a week before I turned eighteen he had the money, but then he wrecked the farm tractor and his mom was really pissed. She took his money to get it fixed, all of it, and his dream for his pickup went into the trash. And, with only a week before my birthday things were looking up for my fantasy to become reality.

Now, he and I were both teenage boys, but we were as different as night and day. For one thing, he liked girls, and I liked guys. For another, he was growing the beginnings of a beard, with hair on his chest and a thick patch above his groin. His thick pubic hair accentuated a fat cock, and he was well into manhood. His nuts were always tight and pulled up in his sack. In contrast, I was still going through puberty, and I wasn’t shaving yet and except for a sparse bit of hair above my cock and two little patches under my arms I was as smooth as a much younger boy. My cock wasn’t all that big either, although it was long enough. But even at six inches, it was thin, like a boy’s pole instead of a man’s and I just hoped it would get thicker eventually. But I did have a good set of low hanging balls, that would swing beneath my legs like a bulls nuts swing, and I was proud of them. But except for my big set of nuts, I was somewhat embarrassed about looking like a younger teen, but still I had sex on my mind and I liked jacking off a lot and my bullocks seemed to produce a lot of seed. When I came I would always shoot a big load, and I loved grunting it out.

As for fucking my friend, of course he tried to beg his way out of it, saying he would get me the money but needed a little more time, but I wanted him bad, and I wasn’t into letting him off. I looked him right in the eye and said: “Michael, you made the deal, and a deal is a deal. I want the money, or you. I’m coming over next Saturday, on my 18th birthday, and you pay up one way or the other.”

Now, farm boys have a creed, and paying your debts is one of the rules, even if it means bending over a bail of hay and letting your best friend mount your ass. Yeah, even that. And so, on my eighteenth birthday, I got to do what I had wanted to do since I could remember thinking about it. Now, before he took off his pants Michael made a big deal to tell me that he had just fucked Kathy the previous weekend, and so this didn’t mean anything. But I could have cared less how many girls he had fucked. His ass was mine, and I wanted it. He looked at me, and bit his lip, but then he said: “OK…OK. I’m gonna let you do it, because you’ve been wanting it for so long. It’s just because of the money I owe, and I’m not a welcher. But this is a one time deal. Just go slow—I don’t want it to hurt.”

OH FUCK. God I got hard. Rock hard. It was just him and me in his barn, and I was smart enough to know that if he was getting it with his girlfriend I figured he wasn’t gonna need my lips on his cock much longer. So, this was a real treat and opportunity, and as I stood there looking at him I was rock hard and more eager than I had ever been. He surprised me even more because he sucked me for a few minutes until I got even harder; yeah, I’ll never forget that either, and then I literally jerked off his jeans and within a few minutes I had him over a bail of hay. I used a lot of udder cream for lube, as it was handy, and then I slowly pushed my slicked up cock into my best friend’s ass. Soon I was slowly sliding in and out of his oh-so-tight ass, my big teenage nuts slapping against my best friend’s hole. He had his head arched back, grunting as he took my thin six inch pole all the way to the hilt.

I don’t now how long we fucked, but not all that long, and I just didn’t have a lot of control as it was my first fuck of my life. I wanted it to last, but I was unprepared for how tight he was or how hot he was, and so suddenly I just shot my wad, filling up his ass with my jism, and as I pumped it out I savored the feeling. He too ejaculated, and we came together he and I, my load shooting into him as I felt the rhythmic contractions of his groin as his own nuts spewed out his seed and squirted into the bale of hay he was laying over.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, we both heard the distinct sound of a shell being chambered in a pump 12 gauge. I spun around, still buried to my balls in his ass, and the same hired hand that had strapped my friend at sixteen was staring down the barrel. For a second I was certain he was going to blow my head right off. I screamed “Don’t Shoot!” and pulled out, and he took in my dripping cock and my best friend’s just-just fucked hole. I knew right then I was dead meat.

I tried to talk, but she said “SHUT THE FUCK UP QUEER BOY!”

Time seemed to stand still, and I had no idea what to do. I raised my hands up high, hoping like hell he woudn’t pull the trigger. Michael stood up and started yelling: “He fucked me! I didn’t want him to…but I owed him. I owed him money and he made me! He made me!”

I was so stunned I didn’t know what to say!

Then Michael went for his jeans, but the hired hand said: “Don’t bother Michael. You’ve earned a strapping, as has your friend. You can put them back on after I’ve burned your bottom.”

I tried to turn, I think to run, but he yelled “DON’T MOVE YOU PERVERT—YOU MOVE AND I’LL KILL YOU!”

I tried to talk then, even if I didn’t know what to say, but he told me to shut the fuck up. Then, he looked at my friend, and said: “You OK Michael?”

He nodded, and said: “Yeah….it was a bet. I didn’t have any choice! It’s not what you think! I owed him two hundred dollars, and, and I had to pay or let him.”

He looked at him, and then at me. Then he said: “I don’t think your mom would be too pleased bet or no bet. “Get the rope…tie his writs together, and then he’s gong over the fence, cause he’s got a strapping coming. I’m gonna strap the skin right off of his ass. And your’re getting it too, unless you want me to call your mom instead.”

I was scared shitless. I didn’t know what do! I hadn’t been strapped in a damn long time….but at the same time I figured that if my dad found out I’d for sure be getting the strap, and so the idea of being strapped for fucking my friend for sure didn’t seem all that out of line. And, while I knew it was going to be a strapping to be remembered, I figured maybe, yeah maybe, if I was really lucky my dad might not hear about it, especially if the hired hand didn’t call Michael’s mom. So, I let my best friend tie my hands, while the hired hand watched and made sure he did it tight, and then he bent me over the hog fence, so that my hands were down near my ankles and that’s where he tied them, to the bottom rail. After that I didn’t have many options.

Then, the hired hand said to Mike: “OK…you too. Over there, in the corner. Over the fence, and get your ass perched up nice and high. You’ve got a strapping coming that you’re not ever gonna forget!”

I couldn’t see all that much of Michael as the fence he was leaning over was across the barn, but I could hear him as he bent over the fence, and the man who was going to punish him tied him in place. With my head near my knees I could just make out the top of the fence, and I had a view of Mike’s upturned bottom, totally exposed and now, like mine, just waiting for the strap. But there was a bail of hay in the way, so I couldn’t see all that much. But it didn’t matter. We were both gonna get our ass’s blistered, and that was pretty fucking obvious.

Then, the hired hand came back to me, with two shorter ropes in his hands, and he put one loop around each ankle, and tied my legs out so that they were in an inverted “V”, spread apart, which exposed everything of course and made it crystal clear that I was totally exposed for a very thorough strapping. I had never seen that done before, and it was not a good feeling, but at that point there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

I said: “Please mister…please man. It’s not what you think. I swear.”

Then he said: “Shut the fuck up. I know what I saw. I’m gonna burn your fag ass, and I’m not gonna listen to you beg like a wimp.” Then, he reached down and pulled my right sock off, and shoved it in my mouth. Then he ripped off a long piece of duct tape, and wrapped it around my mouth, and after that I was pretty much gagged and the only sound I could make was a mumble. After he had gagged me he stood back and looked at me, and that’s when he said: “There. Damn. Look at those balls. Fuck, your hung, just like a bull calf. I’ll have to give you that, you’ve got an impressive set of balls. Well, too bad you don’t know what there for. Enjoy the gag–I don’t want to hear you yelling when I’m strapping you.”

From across the barn I heard Michael: “Thomas…listen. IT was just a bet….I lost. I…I mean…I don’t think that you…”

“SHUT UP MICHAEL. GUYS DON’T FUCK GUYS! I either handle this, or I get your mom. You got that? Do you want your mom to know her son opened his hole for a faggot?”

I heard Mike say “No…oh God. Please man…just don’t tell mom. Please don’t tell mom!”

Then the hired hand went back to where Mike was tied over the fence, and he said: “OK Michael, I think you are right. Cause if I tell her what I saw today I think it would kill her. I thought you had a girlfriend? You queer too?”

He shook his head. “No man…I’m not. Kathy’s my girl…you’ve met her man! I’ve fucked her twice man! I swear! Hell, I just fucked her last Saturday! Oh please…OH GOD. It was just a bet. It was his idea man, and I had to let him…I had to! I’m not a queer!”

“Well, OK. But I know what I saw. I’m going to strap you, and I’m gonna strap him and I owe your mom enough to teach both of you a lesson. You’re gonna get burned boy, and so is your friend. I know what I saw, and he fucked you…he fucked you like a girl and you had your legs spread!”

Then, he said: “You’re getting your socks stuffed in your mouth too. I don’t want you guys yelling…your mom might hear and I don’t think we want her in the middle of this mess. I’m gonna strap you hard, and you need to keep quiet. Some things just need to be handled by a man.”

He gagged Michael then, and I could tell it had been done because Mike was mumbling and it was clear he was eating his socks just like I was. Then, that having been taken care of, the big man picked up the leather strap, and whipped it through the air, and it seemed to sing. Suddenly, he brought it down onto Mike’s upturned ass, and as he did it literally lit him on fire.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

“URGHHHHHHHHH!” Mike yelled into his gag, and after that the blows just started raining down, one after the other. I could hear the fence shaking, and Mike begging, his cries muffled and yet it was clear he was begging even so. His strapping went on and on and on. I couldn’t see it, but I could tell my friend’s bottom was getting redder and redder, and there was no mercy at all in his strapping. By the time it was over Michael was whimpering like a baby, a well spanked little boy and totally defeated.

Now, it was my turn.

The hired hand came to me, and his face was painted in anger. I was gagged, spread and tied down, bent over the fence and with my ass exposed and ready to be punished. It was not a good position to be in when you have just turned eighteen. It is not a good position to be in at all.

He didn’t keep me waiting.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I’ll never forget that strap, and the way he slammed it into me. He struck every single inch of exposed skin, and I jerked and thrashed and twisted and turned while that red neck ranch hand burned my bottom. It just went on and on and on, and eventually the tears came and even so there was no let up. He strapped my buttocks, and he strapped my inner legs. He strapped my entire ass until it was cherry red, and he finally strapped my hole, again and again and again, until it too was puffed up and thoroughly punished. He knew just how to flick the tip into that spot, with a well-practiced motion, and I think if I hadn’t just shot my wad into my best friend’s ass I might have even ejaculated again. But thankfully, I didn’t. Finally, it was done. I just lay there with my eyes closed, the tears flowing out, sobbing and with the snot dripping from my nose. I was well spanked, and my entire ass was on fire.

Suddenly, I felt him fondling my big sack of nuts, and before I even knew what was happening my scrotum was in his fist and for a second I had no idea what the fuck was going on. I opened my eyes, and because the way I was bent over I was staring right between my legs, and there, in his fist, was my set of balls. Hanging from his wrist was an EZY Livestock Castration Tool, and his fist was holding my scrotum and I could see he had already slipped the loop of rubber up and over my scrotum as he had grabbed it. OH GOD HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING AND HE WAS GONNA BAND ME! I tried to scream, but my socks were still stuffed in my mouth, and I started shaking and jerking and pulling against the ropes that held me spread-eagled. He was going to geld me like a bull calf! OH GOD!

He laughed, and then he winked at me, and as he did he moved his wrist and there was this SNAP, and suddenly the band was free of the jaws of the banding pliers, and as it snapped closed above my balls it cinched off the blood supply in that single instant just exactly like it was designed to do! HE HAD BANDED ME! OH FUCK! He was really doing it! He was castrating me! I had banded my share of animals of course, and I knew exactly what was happening. I could see the little rubber donut there, all cinched down now and literally killing my balls, just as I had seen it kill so many animal scrotums over the years I had been on the farm. It was designed to kill the balls on a bull calf up to 350 pounds, and there was no doubt at all that it if stayed around my nuts then it was definitely going to do my own balls in and that was a certainty. OH FUCK! NO! NO! I was surprised, as it didn’t hurt all that much, but I KNEW what it was doing, and I fought with every single muscle in my body. I tried to scream, and I shook my head side to side, but he just patted my rear and said “It’s ok little guy…don’t worry….you’ll be better off without your balls and by morning you’ll be a steer. Your days of boy fucking are over.”

I jerked to get free with every single muscle in my body, but the ropes around my ankles were tight, and my legs were spread and there was nothing I could do to get them free. Likewise, my wrists were secured well to the bottom rail of the fence, and I was bent over, my flame red ass up in the air, and now my banded nuts were hanging down between my legs and were literally being strangled. OH FUCK I WAS BEING CASTRATED JUST LIKE A BULL CALF AND THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO ABOU IT!

Then, he stood up behind me, and slowly started to run his right hand over my naked ass. He felt the skin, ran his hand up between the crack of my cheeks, and then hefted my banded balls and I could feel him there, fondling the individual testicles like plumbs ripe for the picking, which were now being starved of blood. He picked up my cock, and as hard as it is to believe I had a full boner. For some stupid reason my cock had gone hard as soon as the band has snapped around my balls. I don’t know why really, but my cock was as hard as a piece of steel, almost as if it sensed the need to get hard while it still could. OH FUCK I WAS HARD AND MY BALLS WERE DYING!

Then he said: “Wow…for a new steer, you sure have an eager dick! The end of it is slick with sperm—you’re dripping. Hell, I think you like being castrated.” Then he licked his lips, and then he said: “You know little fella, that little hole of yours seems pretty tight. Did your pencil dick like fucking Michael’s ass?”

As he said the word “ass” he shoved his finger into my hole, and I arched my back and grunted. Fuck! I had never had anything up my ass, ever, and when I shuddered it made him laugh. Suddenly he was unbuckling his jeans, and before I knew it his big cock, a monster cock really, sprang up and eager. Next to his massive rod, my cock looked like a boy’s pole. OH GOD. HE WAS GOING TO FUCK ME!

Then he said: “You know…I could never fuck a guy. Never in a million years. But you aren’t a guy anymore really; no…you’re well on your way to becoming a steer; and your hole sure looks eager for it. In fact, with your balls banded, it kind of reminds me of a pussy. I think you ought to at least learn what Michael had to suffer through, don’t you?”

I shook my head and screamed, but it didn’t make any difference. There was nothing I could do, and then, without really any warning, he just pushed the big head of his cock right up against the entrance to my bowels. And, a few seconds after that, he leaned forward, and then he slowly slid into me until he was buried to his balls.

I felt like he was gonna split me in two. God he hurt! He didn’t care of course, and then once he was all the way in then he fucked me, with long hard strokes, ramming his cock deep into me with each thrust. He fucked me like an animal, hard and fast, and as he was doing the feeling in my nuts was a mixture of pleasure and a deep primal ache. He fucked me deep and hard, and he was slamming me up against the fence as he penetrated the depths of my soul. Suddenly I was cumming, the sperm shooting out of my stiff cock with a vengeance, in what was probably one of the biggest orgasms of my entire life. I was coming from a man’s cock in my ass, and without anything touching my own dick! God! I wasn’t in control of anything, and my body seemed to just jet out sperm, in spurt after spurt after spurt, almost as though my cock was trying to fertilize something, while my balls were still half alive and able to produce a load of semen. My cock was so stiff and it was pointed right at my face as I was staring at it, so I ended up shooting my wad onto my own face, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. I didn’t want to cum, but I came anyway, and I shot the biggest load of my life, perhaps as if my balls knew that it was their last. Whatever the reason, I came and came and came, and as I was coming he felt the rhythmic contractions of my sexual muscles and they in turn stimulated his own cock and so as much as I wished it wasn’t so the reality was that it was my own orgasm that put him over the edge.

He tossed his head back and yelled “OH FUCK YEAH….GOD YOU ARE TIGHT! I’m CUMMING STEER BOY!” Then he opened his eyes and starting jetting his sperm into my hole even as I too continued to ejaculate. I felt so defeated, like a concurred enemy, my tormentor’s seed deposited into the depths of my being like my hole was nothing more than a cheap whore’s pussy, there only for his pleasure. He savored every single moment of his orgasm, his nuts feeling maximum pleasure as he shot his wad, while my own balls ached in a way I cannot describe, noosed off from my body and literally dying on the vine.

He stayed inside of my rectum for probably a good five minutes, until his cock softened and slid out on his own. He clearly had enjoyed every single second of fucking me, and it was so damn unfair! He laughed, and as he zipped up his jeans I could feel his sperm literally running out of my hole. He had filled me with his jism!

Michael couldn’t see what had happened, but he could tell something had, and he was grunting and mumbling in his gag.

The hired hand then said: “Shut the fuck up over there, unless you want another round with the strap. I mean it. You say one more word, and I’ll strap your ass all over again.”

Then he slapped me on my ass, and hefted my banded balls one last time. Then he said: “I’m gonna go do some errands, as I need to gather up some stuff. You boys just sit tight, and enjoy yourselves. Somebody will be around in a little while. For now, I think you need to savor the lesson I have taught you two.”

He left then, and after that I hoped for a miracle. I had the thought he would might come back and cut off the band, and so I just waited and hoped like hell he wouldn’t wait too long. It was something to hope for, that he had only wanted me to think he was going to really castrated me. But pretty soon my nuts started to go numb, and I knew time was running out, and so I jerked against the ropes and struggled as hard as I could to get free, but I couldn’t get loose and there was nothing I could do to stop my castration.

I kept hoping, while my own spunk dried on my face, but nobody came to rescue me, and so I stayed there over that fence, my legs spread wide and that rubber donut cinching off my nuts. With the socks in my mouth I couldn’t call out to Mike, and apparently he couldn’t get free either. The tears came, and I knew it was for real. I was being castrated, and I was powerless to stop it. It was a long night. Finally, I heard the roosters start to crow at the crack of dawn, and felt the chill of the morning air. My nuts quit aching long before that, and as I stared at them I slowly watched them turn a darker color, and by the time the sun was up it was clear they were dead. The band had done its job, just like it was designed to do, and it was clear to me that I had been nutted, just like all of those animals I had nutted over the years I had grown through adolescence. The truth was that as a new 18 year old, I’d never have the chance to be a man. Yeah, the sad truth was that there was no doctor on earth that could save my balls now.

I cried and felt sorry for myself, but there wasn’t anything that I could do. I was tied out and banded, and so I waited, like a young steer waits, his dead nuts hanging down like useless orbs, dark and dead and just waiting to fall off. It was a horrible feeling, and laying there knowing you’ve been castrated was a terrible feeling that really can’t be described. My dead nuts were right in front of my face, and I had seen enough banded animals in my lifetime that I knew it was hopeless.

Michael’s mom came into the barn around 8am and found both of us, and she screamed and started cussing, and then she untied Mike and then me from the fence. She was clueless, but she wasn’t stupid, and could tell we had both been thoroughly strapped. Of course she saw the band right away as well, and she knew I had been nutted and it was crystal clear to her that my balls were already dead. I wanted to cut the band right off, but she stopped me, knowing that I needed to go to the hospital and let the doctors do it. Of course she had a lot of questions. When I told her the farm hand had done it to me she called the police. I didn’t tell her why; I mean, I didn’t see any point in telling her that I had fucked her son, and as it turned out I never told anyone. I mean, what good would it have done, and Mike sure didn’t want her to know.

The other thought I had was that it was still possible if my dad found out then I’d probably get strapped all over again, even though I had up and got myself castrated. So, yeah, some things are better left unsaid. I ended up in the hospital, but they couldn’t give me back my nuts of course, and in fact they ended up removing the entire scrotum to prevent gangrene from setting in. And of course the local sheriff never found the hired hand. All his stuff was gone, and he wasn’t stupid and hadn’t stuck around after he had had his fun and banded me.

The weird part of all of this is that Michael and I stayed friends. And what’s even weirder I suppose, is that I still suck him off on occasion. I guess his girl isn’t into oral, and so when he gets really horny I will suck him dry, and when I do he calls me by his girlfriend’s name and pretends my lips are hers. Sometimes, if he is really horny, and she hasn’t been spreading her legs for him, he will mount me instead. I don’t know, but I guess as a ball-less eunuch my perspectives have changed somewhat, and suddenly that doesn’t seem all that wrong anymore. Just before he cums in my ass he usually yells out her name, and then he tosses his head back and fills me with his seed.

Banded Balls Waiting For Castration

Castration Bands Applied To Testicles

I first attempted to castrate myself when I was 19 years old, but never had the “balls” to go all the way.

A good friend of mine was going to castrate me for my 40th birthday, but he backed out.  Still it’s something I have always wanted to have done.

Castration involves applying a tourniquet of sorts, often an extremely constricting rubber band, around the neck of the scrotum in an effort to terminate all blood flow to the testicles and scrotum below the blockage. The most common approach is with a farm implement called an Elastrator, an inverted pliers-like tool used to apply a very small and extremely durable rubber band. This will cause tissue death and necrosis, possibly gangrene, and of course castration.

It is  highly painful.

Castration, or the offer of it, is something I would consider to be an “ultimate” offering of submission and subjugation by and to the “master,” or dominant.

Opportunity: Join a Slave Farm

Potential Master M writes:

I am busy setting up a real live slave farm, I thought you might be interested in joining, I am doing that together with a friend and we are just at the beginning

My response

I regret few things in my life, but one of the things I regret is that I once had the “perfect” opportunity to make this fantasy into a reality.  It would have given me everything I ever asked for, with a master that I had really good chemistry with.

Unfortunately, I backed out at the absolute last minute.  Truth is, I just wasn’t prepared to take the final leap, plus he threw a couple of big surprises (like the potential involvement of children) at me last minute.

One of the things that made it work so well was that he had several slaves, with varying levels of commitment, but I would have had the chance to serve as piss slave to several guys, and my potential master had the ability to assign some of those slaves the duty of taking care of my more intimate needs (like emptying a waste bucket) and he didn’t have to worry about those things.

A slave farm would definitely mimic that arrangement.

Of course, we both have a million questions, many of which I have answered on my blog, but at the top of the list is probably time frame and location.

https://pissslave.com/its-time-to-make-a-decision/ will give you some insight into my thoughts.

Do you have a face pic so I can put a face with a name? There’s a link to my Facebook profile of the page mentioned above.

Levels of Commitment

tumblr phjs4gN9N51v3br79o1 540

I’ve decided to answer several questions I’ve received through my inbox at one time.

I’m doing this for a couple of reasons:

  1. When I started this journey a little over 2 years ago, I thought I knew everything I needed to know. I quickly learned that was not the case. I became thirsty for knowledge, and I wish there was a resource which could have guided me though what to expect. One of the goals I have with this blog is to hopefully provide some answers to others who may be seeking the same knowledge I am.
  2. I receive many of the same questions, and I’ve noticed that it’s pretty handy to be able to point someone to a specific post to answer them. (OK, so I’m lazy)
  3. At some level, making my experiences public provides documentation. In my current life, I’m a web designer, so I’ve learned to think a lot like a lawyer, and having things in the public record sometimes just seems prudent.

I’m starting with what I’m calling “Levels of Commitment”. Essentially, it lays out how I’ve come to understand things. I’m sure there are those who will disagree with me, and I invite the conversation, it will help everyone.

As I mentioned, I started this journey a couple years ago, but in reality, I’ve been on a series of them my whole life. I can remember way back to my first “hard on”, when I was convinced I broke my dick. I didn’t have a father figure to talk to, and I wasn’t going to ask mom, so I just ended up figuring things out on my own. Rather quickly, I found that I really enjoyed typing myself up. At the same time, I somehow developed a “hatred” of my balls. They just kept getting in the way, Interesting to note that my entire teenage life, I never once masturbated. That didn’t happen until the spring semester of my second year in college. I grew up in a REALLY small town, and there were no gay people, so it never even crossed my mind that attraction to a guy was possible. I think that’s why I never really thought to explore the sexual parts of me, and concentrated on the bondage.

Going back in time a bit, to my first semester in college, I somehow got really bold, and asked one of my roommates to tie me up. It was the first time I’d even had someone else do it. Unfortunately, the method we used wasn’t the best. My arms were duct taped to the rafters of our garage, and I was left to “dangle” there, with my arms bearing my entire weight while my roommate went to class. I had to choice but to hang there until he returned. It was incredibly painful, and for about a year, the thought of bondage in any form no longer crossed my mind.

A trip to the local farm supply store, however, opened my eyes to the world of animal castration, and I secretly bought the supplies and kept them hidden in my room, with the idea that at some point, I would do it to myself. In the end, I never ended up using any of it, and I honestly don’t know what happened to it.

Through the years, I did little “experiments”, and often enlisted the help of some very understanding friends who helped me try everything from chastity belts to mummification. At one time, I had a buddy who stayed with me, and locked a collar around my neck, attached to a chain which was attached to the wall. He locked me that way every night, and it felt so natural.

There was one “fantasy” I never was able to try, and that was that I wanted to try being locked inside a cage for an entire week. I assumed that the experience would be so horrible that it would “cure” me of my constant thoughts of bondage. It wasn’t until I met Aaron that I got to try it. I met Aaron on his 18th birthday, when I was around 39 years old.

Even with the age difference, we hit it off right away. We met in June, and by the end of July, we had convinced each other to try the “cage thing”. He was excited to have control, and I was excited to give it up. It was the first time I had to commit to an extended session. Up to that point, I’d never been tied up more than a couple of hours. When the time came, Aaron had me crawl into a dog kennel we’d purchased at the pet store, and after locking a couple of padlocks, I was locked inside the cage, and there was nothing I could do about it. We happened to have a spot in the basement where there was nothing but sand, so I was able to relieve myself by simply pissing out the side of the cage.

When it came time to handle the other end, Aaron would lead me by a collar to the toilet to relieve myself, and while he would sometimes return me to the cage right away, he’d usually tie me up in other ways, and he explored his own fantasies, he especially liked the Cat O Nine Tails. he never used it hard, but definitely used it. I thought I’d hate it, along with the hot wax he’d poor over me as he had me shackled to the wall, but, I learned to deal with the pain well. I know that that level of pain (hot wax) is probably considered child’s pain to some, for me it was just at the threshold I could tolerate. When he was done, he’d put me back in the cage until the next time he was ready to “use me” again.

The entire goal of going through the experience was supposed to make me hate the idea of bondage, but in the end, when he came to release me for the final time, and notified me that I’d been locked up not for a week, but for two weeks that I realized that all the thoughts I’d had my whole life were because I was doing what I was supposed to, and it was such a normal thing that I somehow never noticed that he’d kept me twice as long as we’d agreed.

Through the rest of the summer, he kept a chain locked around my neck, and when we’d go out, he took great joy in leading me around on a leash and collar and showing me off to his friends, and I felt honored to be his property.Something which had originally scared me suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

We spent the summer nights, quite often all night long, sharing our hopes, dreams, and innermost secrets with each other. And I told him things I’d never shared with anyone else, including the stories of my castration fantasy.

On day he told me that when my birthday arrived (it was my 40th, so sort of a milestone) he was going to indulge the fantasy I’d had since I was 19. My 40th birthday present was that I’d lose my balls. We ordered the supplies online, and waited for the day to arrive. The day my birthday arrived, Aaron never showed. He had chickened out, and couldn’t go through with it. I started the day so excited (yet terrified) and ended it disappointed.

Somehow that was the end of our master sub play, and we just became regular friends after that. When I first me him, I wanted more than anything to have sex with him, but the bondage play was the closest we’ve ever gotten. Just because the play time had ended didn’t mean our friendship did, and for the last couple of years, we’ve been best of friends.

I never got that summer out of my head however, and the taste of giving up complete control stuck with me. I knew I wanted more, but I’ve always been a “realistic” person, and knew that fr me to get what I was looking for, I had no choice but to eventually spend the rest of my life in bondage. Since my longest experience has been just two weeks, I tried to come up with the right amount of time for me to “try” long term commitment, and to this day, i still can’t decide how much time exists between forever and 2 weeks to take the next step, but in the process, I came up with one of my coolest ideas, the dice game. I won’t go into all the details, but essentially, a simple roll of the dice determines how long I’d be locked up. My “master” would lock me up, and then roll the dice. The results of the roll would determine if I’d be locked up for as short a time as three weeks, or if I would spend the rest of my life in chains. It adds a unique twist.

I knew I had to try the next step, and spent about a year searching Recon for someone to play the game with me. At the same time, I scoured forums like the Eunuch Archive, and FetLife.com. I spent countless hours on the Nifty Archive reading erotic stories. I have met people who have never been masters, but wanted to tackle the challenges of the dice game (remember, no one knows until after we’ve both committed to let the dice decide how long it will last). I knew if I wasn’t ready for a lifetime commitment, that someone who had never even tied someone up before certainly wasn’t ready for that potential commitment.

I talked with people I’d met along the way who were actually living master slave lifestyles. I talked to possibly hundreds of potential partners, and learned pretty much every single way I could be taken advantage of. I learned how things can go wrong, and how things can go right.In the end, I learned that life doesn’t always end up as you planned, so prepare for it, and that the most important thing in actually making a master slave arrangement work are respect and chemistry. Both parties must be willing to meet the other’s needs, and both must know that the other party will respect their limits. They will grow and explore together, and push boundaries, In the end, everyone wins.

The ironic bit of a successful dom / sub relationship is in realizing that a slave (or sub) ultimately knows that what they really need to do in life is to take care of someone else, while the master (or dom) needs to be taken care of. It seems backwards on the surface, but makes a lot of sense to those who truly understand.

Ultimately, a consensus came from those actually living the lifestyle I dreamed of, and they all agreed. In order to truly know if this full time, 24/7 master slave thing is right, you must actually live it for a year. At that point, the answer will be clear.

So, I know one thing only. My next step is a one year “trial” period. In some ways, it’s difficult to do a trial that lasts that long. I’m lucky enough to have a small recurring income that’ll last for many years into the future without my input, but that income isn’t large enough to keep my current life in “stasis” for a year just in case it doesn’t work out. It doesn’t really make sense to pay rent for an apartment I would never see, as in order for me to truly know, I must commit fully. From minute one until the end of that year, I will exist only for my master.

Whichever master takes me as his property must be willing to make the same commitment. When we make the final decision to officially start (which I picture as the moment master locks a collar around my neck) we must both commit to the full term. Unless it becomes overly obvious that it’s not working for both of us, we must honor the commitment we made for the sake of the other party. So, it’s entirely possible that an hour in, I realize I’m completely miserable, As long as the situation is working for master, I have no choice but to find a way to make the best of the full year.

There are many who will say that if I’m miserable, or master is, that we should end things right then. While that makes sense on the surface, there’s two major factors in play. First, every person I’ve talked to who actually is living this lifestyle tells me it requires a year to be able to make an informed decision. I’ve learned to trust that type of wisdom, especially when repeated by several sources. I might suddenly find, 11 months in that I find joy in what used to be misery. That point might be the beginning of what becomes the most satisfying experience of my life. If I quit early, i could potentially be giving up the very thing that would make me happiest.

Almost equally as important, I must honor my commitment to my master because of his commitment to me. In order for me to spend an entire year as the property of someone else, and do it in such a way which I feel is genuine, I must make several trade offs. I’ll have to terminate my lease, quit my job, put my stuff in storage, place friendships and family relationships on hold, and spend that year serving master. As a part of the decision process to make those trade offs, I must know that master has made a similar commitment to me. There is no way I could justify doing all of that for anything less than a year’s commitment.

Most difficult for me will be leaving Aaron. We discussed the possibility of attempting to recreate the magic of that summer and simply try again for a longer time. He says he thinks he can do it, but I keep thinking back to my 40th birthday, when he couldn’t go through with the castration. While a part of me is happy it didn’t happen, a part of me is still disappointed. He says he couldn’t do it because he didn’t want to hurt me. There’s no way I can be upset with him for that, but it tells me he’s not ready to make they type of commitment needed to go the whole year if things aren’t perfect for him. Plus, he’s still young (just turned 21) and I can’t ask him to spend that time exploring my needs at a time when he should be exploring his own and figuring out who he will ultimately be.

Master does have one advantage in this arrangement. He maintains to option of passing me to another if he is unhappy. I must trust that master will choose an appropriate replacement, but by allowing master to lock that collar around my neck, I will be willing giving up the right to make choices. It will not be my decision what happens to me during that time, and so I must consider as a part of my decision to become the property of this particular master, that he would ensure that no harm would come to me.

I called this post “levels of commitment” because I’ve realized that all of these things doing magically happen overnight. There’s an idea many people have that everything is going to work out as we plan. The fantasy bits make us think it’s always going to be perfect. Life doesn’t’ work that way, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad thing, just something we need to be prepared for.

As we begin the process of engaging each other, and eventually (and hopefully) we meet someone who we think we share a connection with. As a sub, it’s the one I feel a desire and need to serve. The one who I feel I want to fulfill all of their needs. The one I feel will respect my limits, yet help me push those boundaries.

I mention that I desire a lifelong commitment, To get there requires a series of smaller commitments. I learned this through reading erotic stories, and there are three which have really stood out to me, and illustrate how a series of smaller commitments can lead to a larger one.

Those three, in no particular order are:

  1. Craigslist Slave

  2. Permanent Bondage

  3. Becoming a Piss Slave Forever

In each, the master and slave meet online, and at some point, a small commitment is made. Most common, master sends slave a chastity belt, which slave locks on, showing commitment to master.

While this is a big commitment, it’s a pretty simple one, and each party is essentially agreeing to meet in person, with the INTENTION of it going further. If they meet, and it doesn’t’ work, the belt is removed, and each returns to their former lives.

Next, the slave agrees to allow the master to tie him up or at the very least, both enter a “pre-decision” mode. It’s where expectations are discussed, and it’s one of the most important parts of the process. Some may choose to sign contracts, while others are less formal. For me personally, I view this phase as the last opportunity I will have to express my desires, the last chance to state my limits, and the last chance to “leave” if I feel uncomfortable.

It’s important that this stage is handled with the respect it deserves. The gentleman I’m connecting with most in my search believes in a one year trial commitment before agreeing to a lifelong one, and that makes sense with all I have learned. It’s this stage which will determine a lot about how that year will unfold.

Finally, there’s what I call the point of no return. for me, it’s the moment master locks a collar around my neck. Once that collar is secured, both parties have a commitment to uphold everything discussed in the previous stage. The one year trial arrangement seems appropriate, and what is essentially being agreed to is that all limits will be respected, and all commitments will be honored for (in my example) the coming year. In my case, I would be agreeing that when the collar is locked, that I will have given up my right to make choices for the coming year. It will no longer be about my wants, only my masters. For master, it means recognizing I have placed my previous life on hold, so it will not interfere. He agrees to honor that, and ensure that I will remain a slave the entire year. Ultimately, master should ensure that emergency contingencies are in place. You never know when a tragic accident, or a job loss could affect master’s ability or desire to continue, so it never hurts to have a “back up” master who will take the slave as his own in those situations.

For me, the final stage involves the ultimate level of commitment, it’s the moment where each party decides this is truly something they want to do. The answers should be obvious for each at that point. If we decide to move past the one year trial, I would be agreeing to make a total commitment. Master would have the sole right to make decisions in how I am treated, and I (of course) would be allowing master to take those choices from me.

Each of the stories I mention above has various interpretations of these commitment levels, but they all share the common theme. The piss slave story stands out a bit in that there is no “trial period”. Once the slave is locked into his cage, with the piss hood locked on, he has agreed upon a lifetime commitment.

That is my ultimate desire. While technically the moment where master locks the collar around my neck will involve a one year commitment, it really means that master has the right to terminate the arrangement at the end of the year. Master can choose to continue from that point, but I choose (from the beginning) to not be allowed to choose. I choose to not be given the choice to end after a year. I fully believe that if master wishes to end the arrangement because it is not working for him, that he should have no problems in finding another master willing to take me as his slave. As master’s property, I could of course be sold, given away, traded, etc. I would have chosen from day one that this possibility could unfold.

So in the end, we arrive on lifetime commitments through a series of smaller commitments.

  1. The commitment by master to send something like a chastity belt, and for slave to lock it on, ensuring each is committed enough to meet in person
  2. The commitment to try things on a temporary basis
  3. Finally, the ultimate commitment.

I am hopeful that things work as planned between either the gentleman I’m communicating with the most, or another who comes along soon.

I’m ready to get to know someone and be able to trust them enough to agree to do something like lock a chastity belt on myself while they hold the key. I hope that once we meet, that we continue to connect in a way in which I would feel comfortable allowing them complete control over my life.

I have desired this for over 30 years now, and it’s time to make it a reality.

Originally posted on https://statdig.com