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.
From high school wrestling star to pathetic piss-bitch, it’s been quite a rapid descent for Card Stevens. In less than a year, he’s gone from big man on campus to a human urinal who spends his weekends in the bathrooms of a gay bar, sitting naked in his own piss while downing load after load of stinking bladder wastes from dudes he used to scorn as disgusting perverts. And even though he’s already swallowed enough pee in the last six months to float a battleship, he still blushes like a little girl every time a dude he knew in high school steps up, unzips, and unloads his stinking urine down Card’s frantically gulping throat. He’s an honest-to-God piss-bitch now but that sure as hell wasn’t the future he saw laid out in front of him when he first ran into his Master, when he first met Jackson Anders.
He didn’t know that the dude sticking his hand out and introducing himself as his new roommate was going to be his Master. No, Card didn’t have a clue what the larger boy had in store for him. He took Jackson Anders for what he purported to be, a fellow wrestler, another scholarship student destined to help out State’s fabled wrestling team win another National championship. Little did he realize that behind the placid demeanor Anders presented to the world lurked a brutal sadist who took particular pleasure in sexually abusing and degrading other jocks, turning them into cowering, pathetic fuck-toys who would submit to any sick perversion Anders’ mind could devise. But Card’s epiphany was not long in coming.
They’d only been roommates two weeks before Anders made his move. The two of them had gone out after classes were over on Friday for a few brews. Card was surprised at what seemed to Anders unlimited capacity, but he tried to keep up with the bigger boy. By the time they called it quits, Card was finding it difficult to focus and he never would have made it back to the dorm if Anders hadn’t been there to help him.
And Anders continued to help him once they got back to their room, helping Card doff his clothes, though at times it seemed that his lands lingered a little too long on the smaller wrestler’s body. However, it wasn’t until Card was completely naked that the true nature of his roommate’s interest in Card’s body became apparent. Card felt Anders’ fingers running up and down the cleft of his ass. “Dude,” Card asked, trying to shake Anders’ hand off his butt, “what are you doing?”
But instead of removing his hand, Anders fingers stopped at Card’s puckered sphincter and began pressing a rigid digit against it. A second later, Card was shocked to hear Anders ask, “You cherry, Card? You ever been fucked?”
“What the fuck you talking about, dude?” Card exclaimed, trying to move away from his roommate. In just seconds, the two of them were grappling with each other, tumbling onto Card’s bed. Even sober, Card was no real match for his larger roommate but in his inebriated state, the fight was over in less than two minutes. Card was still struggling underneath his roommate when Anders ripped off his own briefs and jammed them into Card’s mouth, muffling the smaller boy’s screams and protests. And there, on Card’s own bed, Anders raped his smaller teammate, destroying the boy’s asshole, turning it into his own personal fuck-cunt.
Anders kept fucking him the whole night. Or at least it seemed that way to Card, who passed out around three in the morning while Anders was plowing away at his hole for the third time only to wake up hours later just as his roommate’s creamed the boy’s aching pussy-hole yet again. By the time Anders finally yanked his cock out of the ruins of Card’s sodden asshole, it felt to the smaller boy like his roommate had fucked him with a blowtorch, his ass burned and hurt so much.
Card was lying on the bed utterly exhausted by the ordeal he’d just gone through. But even though he’d spent the better part of the night coring out Card’s no-longer-virgin boycunt, Anders didn’t seem tired in the least. Instead, he reached down and grabbed a shock of Card’s hair and yanked the boy to his feet. “Come with me, bitch,” he said imperiously, “we need to get you cleaned up.” The next thing Card knew, he was being pulled out of his dorm room and led, by his hair, into the dorm-suite’s showers. And there, as two of his suite-mates watched in stunned disbelief, Anders proceeded to shave Card’s ass, his pubes, and his pit-hair, explaining to the other two boys that, “I like my bitches nice and smooth where it matters.”
In retrospect, Card realized that then was the time he should have protested, should have told his suite-mates that Anders had forcibly raped him, that Card wasn’t a willing party to what was happening. But whether it was the shock of having been violently and repeatedly raped the night before or the sheer humiliation that overwhelmed him as his pubes and other body hair were publicly shaved off, Card failed to make any objection. It was therefore not surprising that when Anders, having finished shaving Card’s most private parts, proceeded to violently fuck the boy again, right in front of his two suite-mates, neither of them made any attempt to intervene even when Card began squealing and shrieking in pain. And when, after he had finished fucking Card, loudly screaming as he shot a fresh load of Man-cum up the teenager’s aching shitter, Anders pulled the boy by his hair back to their shared bedroom, it took less that five minutes for the rest of Card’s suite-mates to learn that Card was a faggot who was serving as his roommate’s fuck-bitch.
Anders kept Card naked, in their bedroom, for the rest of that first weekend. And when he wasn’t brutally fucking the boy’s ‘cunt,’ he was training the boy in his new role as the bigger boy’s fuck-whore. “The rules are simple, bitch,” Anders told him, “you do whatever I tell you to do and you do it without any hesitation or any backtalk. And understand, failure to do so will result in immediate and severe punishment. Do you understand, bitch?”
Card was kneeling before his roommate, a fresh load of Man-scuzz dripping out of his battered boy-bung. “Yes…yes, sir,” he replied, now terrified of his roommate, not wanting to do or say anything that might set him off. But all his meek acquiescence gained him was a sharp slap to his face. “You will address me as ‘Master Jackson,’ bitch, because that’s what I am – your Master.”
“Yes, Master,” Card quickly amended, his face flaring both from the slap and the profound humiliation he felt at his abject submission to the bigger boy. But even his immediate submission did not serve to keep Master Jackson from roughly hauling the boy over his lap and administering a brutal ass-spanking that left Card’s ass-cheeks a fiery red and left him sobbing just like any little boy who’d recently been punished for his misdeeds. And it was merely the first of many ass-thrashings that Card had to endure that first weekend.
And it wasn’t only Card’s ass that was the focal point for Master Jackson’s discipline. Card’s balls and cock – his boyvaries and boy-clit as he was instructed to call them – were squeezed, twisted, and pummeled so much that Card began to view them as merely a source of pain and agony rather than one of pleasure. But even the way Card’s boy-junk was manhandled paled when compared to the mistreatment his poor nipples – his boy-tits – suffered.
Card’s little nips had always been particularly sensitive and, sitting the way they did on Card’s well-developed pectorals, it wasn’t long that weekend before they came in for their own abuse at Master Jackson’s hands. And once his new Master discovered how sensitive they were to pain, they became his favorite way to inflict pain on his bitch, something he seemed to enjoy even more than fucking the boy. Master Jackson squeezed and twisted and pinched Card’s boy-tits mercilessly, bit them voraciously, adorned them with weighted alligator clips until Card was shrieking in agony. And when Card, almost insensate from the pain shooting throughout his body from his tortured boy-tits, was reduced to begging and pleading with his Master for mercy, Master Jackson would laugh at him and add more weights to the tit-clamps. And those hated tit-clamps were all Card was allowed to wear when, on Sunday afternoon, at his Master’s direction, the boy went door to door in his suite, telling his suite-mates to please feel free to fuck his ‘faggot cunt’ whenever they got the urge. Two did, right then and there, and it didn’t take more than a week later before all of his suite-mates had come round to routinely fucking Card’s pussy whenever they got the urge.
But if Master Jackson was definitely aroused by the pain he could inflict on his new bitch, he was even more excited by humiliating the boy, particularly when he could do so in public. Master Jackson forced Card to dress in the most revealing clothes for his classes – cut-off tank-tops that barely covered his perky and swollen boy-tits, shorts so tight they looked they had been sprayed on. And Card was never permitted to leave the apartment without wearing a stainless-steel chastity cage complete with a multi-balled butt-plug that forced him to groan in discomfort every time he sat down.
Master Jackson even made Card wear his chastity cage to wrestling practices, forcing Card to out himself as a pathetic fuck-bitch in front of all of his fellow-jocks. Card’s entire body was blushing a brilliant scarlet that first day as he lowered his shorts in the crowded locker room to reveal the metal cage encasing his boyhood and then, as he’d been instructed, go over to Master Jackson and ask his Master to ‘please remove my clit-cage so that I can put on my wrestling singlet.’ The initial round of shocked gasps from the other wrestlers soon gave way to derisive jeers and insults as Master Jackson unlocked the cage and removed it to expose not only Card’s pubeless groin but the large butt-plug that had been wedged up the boy’s fuck-twat. And when, a few seconds later, a large effusion of Master Jackson’s ball-scuzz began trickling past the boy’s swollen cunt-lips, absolute bedlam ensued. “Get that faggot out of here,” one teammate shouted while another, calling Card a ‘disgusting piece of homo-shit,’ literally spit on the boy’s face.
Card thought he’d die of shame the way they ragged on him, throwing one obscene epithet after another at him, and it wasn’t until two of the coaches came into the locker room that some semblance of order was restored. The coaches looked at Card with undisguised contempt, shaking their heads. Finally, Rock Stranger, the head wrestling coach, spoke up. “Get dressed, boy,” he roughly ordered Card, “we got a practice we need to get to. I’ll deal with you, later.”
It was a practice unlike any Card had ever experienced before. None of his opponents held back in the slightest and while most of them seemed to go out of their way to squeeze and molest his junk in ways that would never be permitted in an actual match, the coaches never called any of them on it. It wasn’t surprising, considering the constant mauling it was undergoing, that Card’s boy-clit was totally boned up during the entire practice, actually dribbling pre-cum that was staining the front of his singlet, which, of course, generated no end of slurs and caustic comments from his fellow-wrestlers. Card was sure the was going to be cut from the team and, by the time the practice ended, even he thought that might be the best resolution possible.
During the practice session, Card had noticed that Master Jackson in frequent conversation with Coach Stranger. He had no idea what was going on, though things became perfectly clear once the practice ended and they all trooped back into the locker room. Once they were all inside, Coach Stranger told the wrestlers to gather around him. When they did, the coach turned to Master Jackson and said, “go ahead, Anders, tell them what you’ve already told me.”
Master Jackson look around for a moment and then stared directly at Card. “Okay, bitch,” he ordered with a smirk, “strip.” His whole body once again flushing a bright red, Card did as directed, having already learned what failure to do exactly what his Master told him would result in. Card couldn’t believe how humiliating it was, stripping while everyone else snickered at him. And it didn’t help matters that his boy-clit was still fully erect. Once he was totally naked, he looked at Master Jackson and waited for his Master to continue forcing himself not to try to cover up his embarrassing erection, knowing that Master Jackson would be furious if he did so.
Master Jackson was grinning as he took in his bitch’s obvious embarrassment. Then, he turned to speak to his fellow wrestlers. “As most of you already know, I discovered this weekend that my roommate, Card Stevens, was a pathetic little faggot fuck-whore. I’d had practice dealing with fags before, so I knew exactly what to do – I fucked the living crap out of his faggot-pussy and started training him up to be a respectful faggot-bitch for Real Men to use and enjoy.”
At this point, Jackson Anders paused and looked around the room. “Now I know a lot of you have never fucked fag-pussy and some of you may be put off by the idea of it. But let me assure you that once you try it – and please feel free to fuck the bitch’s pussy whenever you want – you will enjoy it. As they say, a pussy is a pussy. And the thing about fag-pussy is that you don’t have to worry about the fag. You can fuck his pussy as hard as you want. And, if it hurts him, so what? He’s a fucking fag. Who gives a shit? I sure don’t. And you shouldn’t either. So please, all you guys, feel free to fuck my new bitch after every practice. Just like I’m gonna do right now.”
And with that, Master Jackson began shrugging off his singlet and in just seconds his big cock was buried balls-deep in Card’s still-sore boy-cunt, as Card squealed in renewed pain as the bigger boy began jackhammering his tender hole. By the time his Master had once again creamed his tortured cunt, a line of horny wrestlers had formed up behind him.
Over half his teammates fucked his pussy that first afternoon, and by the third practice session every one of Card’s teammate had tried out his ass-cunt at least once. They all pretty much still treated him like shit when they weren’t fucking him, which wasn’t surprising since that’s exactly how they treated him while they were fucking him. He wasn’t their teammate anymore – he was the team’s faggot fuck-bitch. And Card, who before had always looked forward to these practice sessions where he got to pit himself against his fellow wrestlers quickly learned to dread them.
But as bad as being bitched out to all of his teammates was, it wasn’t the worst thing Master Jackson did to Card. Not even close. Because as Master Jackson had discovered early on in his training of his fag-bitch, the one thing that Card hated the most was being forced to drink his Master’s pungent urine. At least when he was being used as the team’s cum-dump, Card could appreciate the sexual pleasure his teammates were experiencing as they pounded away at his boycunt. It was incredibly demeaning lying there as one dude after another jammed his cock up Card’s back-hole and used his pussy to get a nut, but Card could at least understand the pleasure they felt when they used him that way. But to serve as another dude’s urinal, his piss-hole, seemed to have no purpose other than to humiliate Card, to degrade him, to emphasize how far away from being a Real Man Card really was. The pleasure a man felt in pissing down Card;s throat didn’t come from his own sexual release but in Card’s total degradation and humiliation. There was nothing else that Master Jackson did to him that disgusted and embarrassed him nearly as much, nothing that Card hated more. And, unfortunately for Card, Master Jackson understood this. And so, sadist that he was, Master Jackson determined to turn Card into a groveling piss-bitch.
Twice every day, Card was required to crawl naked, as he always was kept in the suite, from room to room and beg his suite-mates to be allowed to drink their pee. The looks of shock and contempt that greeted this request the first time he was forced to make it made Card literally shake with humiliation, but that was nothing compared to the shame that overwhelmed him when one of his suite-mates took him up on the offer and peed down his throat, literally snorting his disdain as he did so. As the days passed, one by one, his suite-mates took him up on his offer and, in less than two weeks, he had become the urinal of choice for all of his suite-mates.
It wasn’t long after that that Master Jackson made Card drink his pee in front of all his fellow-wrestlers, laughingly telling them that he hadn’t used the porcelain urinal in his dorm suite in three weeks. “Why bother?” he asked rhetorically, “when I’ve got a human piss-hole right at hand to take care of it whenever I want? And all you guys,” he added as he zipped up, “should feel free to use the little whore the same way whenever you need to take a leak.” Within days, the wasn’t a single teammate who wasn’t routinely using Card’s mouth whenever he needed to take a piss during practice and, by the time any practice ended, Card’s belly would be visibly bulging out his singlet with all his teammates’ bladder-wastes.
But the worst of it all started a couple months later. Card knew something was up the moment Master Jackson returned from the post office carrying a large cardboard box. He recognized the gleam in his Master’s eye as something that always presaged some new humiliation that was about to be inflicted on him. And the moment his Master began removing items from the box, beginning with the large metallic funnel, Card understood what it would be used for.
Card knelt in front of Master Jackson, blushing furiously, as his Master affixed the metal contraption to Card’s head. It had been cunningly designed to keep his head in an upright position that forced Card to look straight up at the funnel that led directly down to his mouth. And as Card watched in humiliated horror, no sooner had Master Jackson fitted the gag firmly over his mouth than he unzipped his pants and proceeded to aim a torrent of his rancid pee into the funnel and down into Card;s frantically gulping throat. The disgusting taste of his Master’s piss was still permeating his mouth when Master Jackson ordered Card to make the rounds of their suite so that their suite-mates might have their own opportunity to try out Card’s new piss-gag.
Card had been serving as his dorm suite’s piss-hole for a couple of months now, but even though he couldn’t even estimate how many gallons of his suite-mates’ piss he’d downed during that time, he still found it repulsively demeaning every time he did it. And his new piss-gag seemed to make it somehow even worse. It made Card feel not merely that he was serving as a urinal but that he actually WAS a urinal, that being their human piss-hole now defined him even more than being their faggot cum-dump. Before, as a practical matter, Card had served each of his suite-mates as a piss-pit individually, kneeling before each boy as he emptied his bladder into him. It was disgusting and demeaning to be sure, but there was still an element of a personal relationship to the act. But the funnel at the top of his piss-gag allowed multiple boys to simultaneously pee into it. And that’s exactly what they did – two or three boys standing up and pissing together into the funnel, laughing with each other, enjoying the bonding experience of mingling their piss into the same hole, while Card just knelt there almost ignored, desperately swallowing as fast as he could, watching his fellow suite-mates enjoy an experience that seemed to exclude him even though he was literally at the center of it. It made serving as their collective piss-hole more dehumanizing than it had ever been before.
But it wasn’t until that weekend that Master Jackson truly unveiled the full depths of the degradation he had planned for the boy. Card knew something special was up when Master Jackson fitted his thighs and calves with multiple metal straps and then affixed his ornate metal cock-cage/butt plug onto his boy-clit and up his pussy. From past experience, this only happened when Master Jackson was taking him to a wrestling team party, where he would serve as the group’s entertainment. When Master Jackson ordered him to bring the box containing the piss-gag with him, Card’s heart sank since he was sure that this meant that all of his fellow wrestlers would be using him as a urinal the same way his suite-mates now did – with the piss-gag fixed firmly on his head and in his mouth.
But it wasn’t a party Master Jackson was taking him to, it was The Last Stop, the most notorious gay leather bar in town. Just walking into that bar was an agony of embarrassment for Card, dressed the way he was. Heads turned, wolf-whistles and catcalls greeted him as he followed his Master into the back bar, barefoot and naked except for his metal cock-cage and the metal straps around his thighs and calves. Master Jackson walked right up to another man who was standing behind the bar.
“This is the bitch I told you about,” he said.
The dude looked Card over and then just shook his head. “I never would have figured a boy like him would be a piss-queen, but I guess it takes all types. Okay, get him set up in the bathroom. Just remember, he cleans up any mess that he’s made at the end of the night.”
“No problem,” Master Jackson replied. Then, turning to Card, he said, “C’mon, bitch. Let’s get you ready to show all these Real Men what you’re really good for,” and then headed off towards the bathroom, leaving Card to follow behind.
Once inside the bathroom, Master Jackson directed Card to kneel between the two urinals. Then he took the box from the boy and began fastening the piss-gag onto the boy’s head. “Oh, please, Master, please,” Card started begging. “Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this. Please, Master, I’m begging you.” But Master Jackson just ignored Card’s plaintive pleas and they were soon cut off as the gag was jammed into his mouth. Once the gag was properly in place, Master Jackson ordered Card to sit his naked ass down on the floor and to spread his legs apart, blocking access to the other two urinals. That way, bar patrons would have no choice but to use his funnel when they needed to relieve their bladders.
“You’re here for the duration, bitch,” Master Jackson advised as he unzipped his pants and began whizzing into Card’s piss-funnel. “And remember, any mess you make, you’re gonna be cleaning up.” Card was still gulping down his Master’s accumulated piss when the Man zipped up and headed towards the door. “Have fun, bitch,” Master Jackson sarcastically added, as walked out.
Master Jackson hadn’t been gone thirty seconds before the door banged open and in walked a biker wanting to take a piss. “Holy Fuck!” he exclaimed when he saw Card on the floor with the funnel from the piss-gag sticking into the air. He looked around for a few seconds, uncertain as to how to proceed, but finally just shrugged his shoulders and walked up to Card, pulled his cock out and started pissing. “Drink up, faggot,” he sneered, as Card began swallowing convulsively. The biker hadn’t even finished washing his hands before he was joined by another patron.
“Motherfuck!” the new man exclaimed as he took in the sight of Card, naked except for his cock-cage, on the floor. “What the fuck’s going on?”
The biker at the sink, chuckled loudly. ‘Looks like we got ourselves a human piss-hole for the night.”
“God,” the second dude replied, “that’s disgusting. What type of sick pervert would want to spend the night downing other dudes’ stinking pee?”
“One sick motherfucker, you can count on that, bro,” the biker opined. “But, I figured, if that’s what floats his boat, that’s his problem. There’s a lot of really twisted pervs in this world. He’s a good looking dude, but who knows what else he’s into. Probably eats shit, too, sick motherfucker. But I figured. when you gotta piss, you gotta piss so I gave the little bitch just what he wanted – a hot load of my bladder juice.”
“Well, he’s welcome to mine, too,” the second dude said, walking forward and unzipping. “I gotta piss something fierce.” And with that he started whizzing away into the funnel leaving Card with no choice but to swallow as fast as he could. And even before he’d flicked off the last few drops into the funnel, yet another dude came into the room wanting to take a piss. “What the fuck,” the new dude muttered as the guy who had just finished peeing down Card’s throat turned to explain things to him.
And so it went for the first couple hours as Card sat there naked on the bathroom floor. Dude after dude would come through the door, express his surprise, and then his contempt, and then use Card for the obvious purpose that he was there – as a human urinal. For Card, it was an unending nightmare of abject humiliation as he had to listen to all their exclamations of surprise, contempt, and disgust and then still had to swallow their stinking pee, thereby seemingly validating every vile thing they’d said about him.
And, as time went on, things only got worse. It was bad enough when he looked up and realized that a dude was peeing into his mouth for a second and then a third and fourth time, but what was even more embarrassing was when, as happened on a number of occasions, Card recognized the dude pissing into him from one of his classes – and the dude recognized him, too. Knowing the way the news spread on twitter and other sites, Card realized that virtually all of his classmates would have heard about the disgusting display Card had put on in the bathroom of The Last Stop before he even made it out of the bar.
Roughly two hours after Card had started serving as the bar’s urinal, he reached the point that he’d been fearing from the very beginning. His belly was bulging, the multiple loads of piss that he’d down obscuring his abs, his stomach extending so far forward that it protruded well beyond his pecs, the need for him to piss almost unbearable. The breaking point came when three dudes joined in filling his piss-funnel to the very top. Card’s control over his own bladder finally gave way and he began pissing himself on the floor, to their raucous amusement and his own excruciating humiliation. Card pissed himself a good five minutes and, by the time he finished, he was not only guzzling down other dudes’ pee, he was sitting in his own.
From that point on, Card pretty much lost all control over his own bladder and he was pissing himself constantly throughout the rest of the night. By the time the bar closed at 3:00 a.m., nearly half of the bathroom floor was covered with Card’s recycled piss. When Master Jackson finally came in to collect him, Card knew he stank exactly like you’d expect a urinal to.
“You have fun, bitch?” Master Jackson asked contemptuously as he finally took off the piss-gag that Card had been wearing for the last six hours.
Card just stared at his Master, all the accumulated humiliations of his long evening forcing tears to his eyes. But when Master Jackson raised an eyebrow in a way that Card had learned to fear, Card knew what he had to do. “Yes, Master Jackson,” he replied. “Thank you, Master.” Just saying those words, thanking his Master for inflicting upon him the worst night of his entire life, crushed any last remnant of manhood that Card had somehow managed to retain through all the other degradations he had endured.
A huge smile lit up Master Jackson’s face. “I’m glad to hear that, bitch, cause you were a real hit tonight – everybody was talking about the piss-bitch in the bathroom. So much so that they’ve asked us to come back tomorrow night. And,” Master Jackson continued, the raw humor making his voice almost cackle, “assuming things go as well, you’re gonna be a permanent weekend fixture here from now on. Isn’t that great, bitch? Isn’t that great?”
Card didn’t want to cry in front of Master Jackson – he knew how much his Master enjoyed making his bitch cry like a little boy. But Card couldn’t help himself and the tears just started cascading down his face. Yet even as he was audibly sobbing Card forced himself to respond, “Yes, Master. That’s great, Master.”
His triumph now total, Master Jackson’s grin grew even bigger. “Okay, bitch. Now you need to get his place clean. And you know exactly how a bitch cleans up a mess he’s made – with his tongue. So get slurping, bitch. Get slurping right now.”
And as Card knelt down and began slurping his own recycled bladder wastes from the bathroom floor of a seedy bar, the tears kept flowing uncontrollably. He was a piss-bitch now. A human urinal. That was the life that now awaited him. And even with everything else that had already happened to him, Card couldn’t imagine a worse fate.
My past has been wiped out and there is only the present. The future is something i never think about – it is enough that i am alive in the here and now. And that present has a purity and a simplicity that my past never had. i am a slave. i do what i am told. i accept what happens to me. i am content.
i don’t know where i am, whether in a city or in the country as it was part of the contract i agreed to that i would not know where i was going, or who i was going to. i had been selected on the basis of the emails and photographs i had submitted to the agency and told to go to a certain place, at a certain time and wait. It was an hour’s train journey from the town where i had lived, and then a walk of about a mile until i reached the designated spot, a quiet crossroads down a country lane. The instructions had been specific – no possessions other than the clothes i had been directed to wear (jeans, tee-shirt, sneakers, no coat or jacket even though it was winter and rain was falling on me). No watch, either, so i had no idea if i was early or late. Shivering with apprehension so intense that i did not notice that i was cold and wet, i waited for my life to change…
And what a change! i am a slave to a Leather Master who keeps me in chains in a cage in a dungeon and uses me for his sexual pleasure whenever he feels like it.
The first thing he did to me when i arrived was to impress upon me that i am a slave and must never, even for a second, forget this fact. So he shaved my body totally, head, eyebrows, chest, groin, everything; and it is one of my duties as his slave to keep this body in a state of total hairlessness as a constant reminder of my state of slavery.
Then he made sure that, by chaining me with heavy fetters, every movement would remind me that i am a slave. A heavy metal slave collar was welded around my neck, with heavy chains running to metal wrist and ankle restraints, also welded. A heavy ball collar is welded round my balls, pushing them painfully downwards and allowing him to grab them and twist them as a way of controlling me. Apart from these heavy chains i am naked, allowing my Master access to my body at any time. i am trained to present myself to him, to offer up my body to him when he desires it.
i am kept chained to the wall and sl**p on the floor of the cage. The cage is too small for me to do anything other than kneel in it or lie down if i am curled up. At first i had difficulty in sl**ping as the fetters would cut into me if i tried to move too much and the chain from the collar around my neck to the wall is too short to permit much movement. But i have become accustomed to it and i feel safe and secure, like a dog that accepts its new home without question. i eat and drink from a dog bowl on the floor. i am not permitted to eat with my hands but must stick my face into the bowl like a dog.
my nipples and cock have been pierced and rings inserted so that i can be chained in any number of painful and uncomfortable positions when he decides to punish me and discipline me. He also pierced my nose and inserted a ring as a further exercise in humiliation. He says it will serve to remind me that i am a pig slave. Ominous words at the time…. The piercings have not yet healed fully, so that any punishment my Master chooses to inflict on my nipples is more intensely painful as a result.
As a slave, i have no rights whatsoever but must accept that i am a piece of property, owned completely by my Master, to be used in any way he sees fit. i must obey all commands and orders without hesitation, without question; it is enough that he wishes it, no matter what it may be. He can punish me and discipline me whether i have done anything to deserve it or not – it is a high honour that my Master should deign to whip my worthless body or grant me permission to worship his tall leather boots, the symbol of his dominance and Mastery.
my only permitted response to humiliation, degradation, abuse and punishment is one of extreme gratitude to my Master. If i should cry out at any time or be slow in thanking him for abusing me, then i know that i shall be punished even more severely.
i have been systematically and thoroughly trained to serve as his sex slave and i am fully conscious of the honour bestowed on me. my slave training has been severe but i have emerged as a real bootslave, a dogslave, a pig slave, grateful to be the property of such a dominant Master.
When he enters the dungeon, i have been trained immediately to get to my knees, bow my head and wait in a respectful and subservient position for him to unlock my cage. When he has done this, i crawl towards him, begging for permission to lick his boots. He particularly likes to see his slave grovel at his boots. i am often gagged so that i cannot say anything but if i am not then i am only permitted to beg for more punishment, abuse, and humiliation, and especially for the high honour of licking his boots and cleaning them with my tongue.
All utterances begin and end with the word “SIR” or “MASTER”. i am not permitted to use the word “i” but must describe myself in the lowest terms possible as in “SIR, please allow this useless piece of slave shit to lick the soles of your boots, SIR” or “MASTER, this dog turd begs you to piss on it, MASTER”. my tongue is not allowed to touch his boot leather until he gives the command and then i must lick his boots with a proper show of enthusiasm and respect. All my slave training is conducted at boot level, and i am not allowed to stand in his presence unless he is chaining me upright for a heavy whipping.
He wears full leather at all times with a leather peaked cap pulled down low on his brow, so that i can scarcely see his face. In any case, i am not permitted to look at him but must keep my eyes lowered in his presence. He wears skintight leather jeans or sometimes leather breeches with a broad uniform stripe running down the side. As a special favour i am occasionally permitted to run my tongue over his firm leather encased legs and thighs; and sometimes even over his bulging leather crotch, before unzipping the bulge with my teeth and working his cock into my mouth and down my throat.
But his tall black leather boots are my main concern and i spend hours not just licking them but cleaning them thoroughly with my tongue. He will command me to start with the soles. No position reminds me of my status as a slave more than this – i am lying flat on my back while my Master stands above me, one boot raised and pressing on my face while my tongue works on the rough leather sole as it grinds down on me. Then i work upwards, around the rims, over the smooth steel toecaps and up the long expanse covering his calves, sometimes permitted to caress the boots with my hands as i lick them. If he is wearing his hobnailed boots then i know i am in for a hard time -if i do not lick them with enough devotion or attention to detail then he will aim a few hard kicks at my useless body. And he will press down hard on my neck with one boot, grinding the hob nails into my flesh while i service the boot leather of the other boot.
He has a large collection of whips, belts, paddles and crops hanging from the walls of the dungeon and, selecting one, he whips me while i lick his boots. Sometimes he kicks me round the dungeon with his boots while he lays into me with his leather belt. i am ordered to keep trying to lick his boots while he does this. He delights in turning me into a grovelling, bootlicking slave, begging for ever more humiliation, degradation and abuse.
Sometimes he punishes me by locking me in a heavy iron head cage, hanging from a chain in the ceiling of the dungeon. He will crank it up so that i have to stand on tiptoes, my arms and legs will be chained spread-eagled, and he will leave me like that for hours until my muscles ache. Then he will take a whip to my naked back and arse, making me count the strokes and thank him for whipping me after each one.
Whipping a slave excites him more than anything else and when he has finally finished whipping me, he will usually drop the whip and f***e his huge Master’s cock up my arse and fuck me roughly, his hand coming through the metal of the headcage and covering my mouth, forcing his fingers down my throat.
When he has shot his load up my arse, he will pull out, unfasten me from my position, open a door at the front of my head cage, slap me down to waist level and make me clean his dripping Master’s cock with my tongue. Often his cock will harden again while i am licking it clean and he will stick it down my throat, making me suck it hard until he shoots another load. Then i have to clean his Master’s cock thoroughly with my tongue. When a slave is fully submissive, i have discovered, then there is nothing that it will not do no matter how revolting it might have been to its former self. You might say i have been mesmerised to the extent that His desire is quite simply reason enough.
One day he entered the dungeon, chained me firmly to the ground so that i couldn’t move, and buckled a leather plugged gag around my head, filling my mouth so that i couldn’t cry out. Then he lit a fire in a metal brazier and stuck a branding iron into it. i knew what was going to happen to me but was powerless to do anything about it. i simply had to wait in an agony of expectation while the iron reached the right temperature. Then, pulling it out of the fire, he planted it firmly on my arse and branded me with the word ‘slave’ so that all who use me will know what i am. Then, having marked me permanently as a slave, he invited other Leather Masters to his dungeon.
i had to crawl to the door of the dungeon and lie in front of it. When each Leather Master entered, he would use my useless slave body as a boot cleaner, wiping the tall boots on my flesh. Then he would stick his boots in front of my face and order me to kiss them as a sign of my respect. When five tall Masters, some in full leather, the others in full rubber, had gathered, he told them that i am a trained bootslave. Then, slapping me hard across my face, he ordered me to serve them.
Crawling from one to another, servicing their boots, i was used as a boot wipe and boot rest. Some of them were smoking and at a snap of the fingers i would crawl over and open my mouth so that it could be used as an ashtray. They took it in turns to fuck me, slapping me and verbally abusing me as they did so, calling me a worthless piece of slave shit, a dog turd. They gobbed in my face and made me rub it in. Some would pull me up by my collar and order me to lick the snot from their noses; or they would shoot snot into my open mouth.
The evening was an orgy of abuse and humiliation for me, as i desperately tried my best to carry out all the orders i was given by these dominant Masters. Finally, when they had gone, my Master dragged me to my slave cage, kicked me in and, as usual, chained me to the wall and left me lying, my body covered in welts from the whipping i had received. The evening ended as it always does – he walked to the gate of the cage and i crawled over and stuck my tongue through the bars, whimpering like a dog to show how much i wanted to service his boots. As i licked his boots, he jacked off over me, finally leaving me lying in my degradation.
Chris grinned with cruel humor as he stroked my erect penis. His hand combined with the baby oil was giving my body all the welcoming and arousing sensations, sending pulse after pulse of hormone charged blood through my muscles. I lay spread eagle tied to our bed watching and hoping that my Boyfriend will allow me that feeling of release, but I know his evil side and I know the commitment I made with him. Just as my stomach tensed and my cock strained his hand pulled away for a second time leaving me panting and twitching minus the ejaculation that was sure to follow any second. To say my body was now on edge would be lying, it was definitely over the edge, it is screaming to have the balance restored with just a few more strokes of my cock.
It had been three weeks since I gave control of my cock over to Chris and the first time since then it had been outside of the CB6000. We had played with chastity allot over the time we’d been together and now I decided that I was going to take my commitment to him to a new level. Being locked in chastity has always given me an overwhelming feeling, a charge of hormones always courses through my body at the thought of wearing them and my sexual appetite always sky rockets when locked up. That feeling of horniness and the quivers it radiates throughout me has always been the best part of sex for me, ejaculation at the end is great, but the build-up is the true ride. Chastity also brings that loss of control, the sense of denial, the excitement of guessing if you’ll be allowed to cum. Even if I’m denied an orgasm the knowing that I’m to remain locked just makes me hornier. So my commitment to Chris was simple, after months of being locked for a few days here and a few days there, I wanted to remain locked, I wanted to give Chris the control over my horniness. I wanted to see how far he could take me and far I could go. Would I become a mess of unreleased sexual tension or would I become more and more submissive, accustomed to being chaste. The thought of being locked 24/7 was a fantasy that drove me wild, but in reality could it work for me.
Chris moved up the bed, he straddled my body kneeling over me. He sat his cute tight but right on top my hips whilst carefully placing my penis upward alongside his back. Right in where his bum crack begins. If only a little lower, if only he was going to begin to ride my erect penis.
“I know what you’re hoping for, But it’s not going happening” Chris’s smile turned to a serious gaze. “You gave up the right to ask for an orgasm, and believe me it’s gonna be allot longer than 3 weeks until I think about giving you one.” He was dead right but I was glad at what I was hearing. As much as I wanted to cum right now, knowing that my Cb was going right back on was turning me on so much more. Chris then leant forward over me, he planted his tongue firmly in my mouth and at the same time I felt my cock move lower into his arse crack . I could feel his balls rubbing up against the base of my penis, his erect cock drove itself up my stomach, I needed to scream but his tongue prevented all but a long moan. I was becoming so charged with hormones that I thought my dick was about to burst out of it skin, and then in a heartbeat Chris pulled back and sat up. “I can feel that cock of yours is getting a bit excited, it’s definitely time to be put away before I lose control of you.” Chris then exploited my weakness. I hated being tickled and he got to work immediately. It was a sure way to turn me off and the only way he was gonna get my cock soft enough to be locked back up again. It drove me mad and tensed every muscle in my body, I always laughed but it was a pained reaction to something that I didn’t enjoy at all and in no time my penis was soft again.
Chris replaced the ring under my balls and locked together the locking pins to fix the ring in place. Of course this alone made me horny and erect again which only instigated another round of intense tickling. Soft once again Chris swiftly slid the shaft of the Cb over my cock and fixed it to the pins, then the lock, sliding it into the hole of the locking pin, he left it poised millimetres from its locked position. My Cock swelled and engorged the cage, it was confined once more and the feeling brought over me another surge of hormones and excitement. I had just be freed and teased with to the brink of orgasm, I was still falling over that edge of imbalance. My cock pushed against the cage in a desperate attempt, one push after the other like it was pounding against a closed door. Chris reached up to my right arm and undid the lock holding my wrist. He guided my hand to my cock and rested my fingers onto the lock of my Cb.
“Seeing how you’re the one that made this commitment to me, to give me your cock, you’ll be the one each time that closes the lock. If and when I decide to play with your dick, if you’ve cum or been denied, you’ll re-lock your dick. No if’s or buts, No begging and no refusal!!”
Chris’s look was stern. He meant what he was saying and I knew if I messed about I was sure to pay in some way. My cock surged stronger, I felt like I was actually about to cum but nothing was going to spurt from my cock. It just strained and strained, physically unstimulated but packed with energy. I gripped the lock with my fingers and pushed. The steel pin moved into the brass lock and ‘click’, my dick was locked away again. I wasn’t however disappointed at all, I was exactly where I had hoped to be, Hornier than hell and under my boyfriend’s control. With my dick now locked it was as if my focus changed, it shifted straight to Chris, how can I please him. I needed to channel all my energy onto his dick, I wasn’t going to get any release but Chris was. My free hand moved away from my cock and towards Chris’s erect dick and I began to stroke it much to my boyfriend’s delight.
Chris once again moved over and straddled my body, once again sitting over my hips but this time it was my caged cock that nestled in between his arse crack. I continued to stroke his cock with my free hand as his right hand came down and grasped his own balls tightly. His left hand slid around his back where he clasped the end of my Cb, pressing his finger into the piss slit to rub the tip of my penis. We both began to moan in sync as I felt the tension build in Chris’s body. His eyes clenched and his upper teeth eloquently peered out from his mouth to bite down onto his bottom lip. We continued like this for some time as i knew exactly how to hold Chris on edge, plus I was enjoying this almost as much as when my penis was unlocked a few moments before.
“You love pleasuring me don’t you! You love it more having your cock locked up, knowing I won’t let you cum.” Chris was dead right again, I whimpered yes in response. “This last 3 weeks have been amazing, having you locked in this way, you’ve been so horny I love it!” another whimper came from my mouth, yes sir. “You won’t be cumming at all anytime soon I hope you know. And only if you don’t complain about it will I edge you like I just did.” Another surge of energy rushed through me, I wasn’t totally expecting to unleash Chris’s dominant side like this but it was exactly what I wished for.
Without another word Chris grabbed my hand from his cock and placed it off to his side. He leant forward toward my left arm and unlocked my wrist from its restraint. With both my arms free Chris shuffled upwards placing his body over my chest, knowing what was coming now I reached around grabbing his arse with both my hands. I pulled his arse toward my face as he grabbed the back of my head forcing his cock into my mouth, I relaxed my grip on his arse and moved my hands down onto his thighs as he began to push and pull my head into his groin. He thrust his hips at the same time as I took his cock in my mouth, that pre cum taste testing my gag reflex just that little bit. I closed my eyes as I could feel Chris clearly enjoying making me feel like the little bitch. At this point I didn’t think i was going to get any hornier, already energized to the max and now truly feeling helpless in chastity I braced to receive what was surely going to be a huge load out of Chris. He wasn’t however done with me yet. He stopped being as forceful and slowed down, easing his cock into my mouth as opposed to thrusting forcefully. I soon felt him pull out and I opened my eyes, my mouth still wide open, he began to shuffle backwards off my chest toward my legs. He shuffled over my hips and knelt between my still restrained legs.
“I didn’t want to cum in your mouth Boy as I haven’t finished using you yet!” he said this as he grabbed the ring of my Cb. “I absolutely love seeing you so helpless and so turned on, I just want you to know that. I wasn’t sure about this to start with as I love pleasuring you allot to, but, I can see this is by far pleasing you more. That cock straining inside its Cb doesn’t lie.” I didn’t know what I could say, the rush of hormones were starting to make me delirious. ‘yes sir its true sir’ was all I could manage. That grin of cruel humor returned to Chris’s face as he shuffled off the end of the bed and undid the restraints on my legs. “Now roll over onto your stomach bitch.”
I did as I was told realizing the grand finale that was to cum. I lay back down, positioned my now uncomfortably erect caged cock away from my stomach and as rearward toward my arse as was comfortable. In no time my legs and arms were once again secure in a spread eagle position, my bum exposed. I felt Chris straddle my back this time and soon thereafter a blind fold forced over my face followed by a ball gag shoved into my mouth to complete the feeling of helplessness. I let out a slight whimper before I even registered that I had done so. It was quickly followed by a slap to my arse, “Save those whimpers boy for when you really need ‘em”. I felt Chris hop off me at that point and then soon I felt nothing at all, heard nothing and obviously saw nothing. A good few minutes passed without any movement in the room, not Chris climbing over me and nothing touching my arse. The anticipation was building inside me I was wanting to have Chris fuck me, if nothing else to feel his cock on my prostate, to have some of this cum oozed out of me in some way. I let out a moan, a beg for attention. It felt like 10min had passed by now and yet my erection was by far nowhere being quelled.
“You relax” was the response I received. “You’ll get attention when I choose from now on. I will fuck you when I want to and not when you want it.” I was helpless, unable to respond to a statement that I had led myself into. I was aroused again beyond belief. Chris had totally taken on this dominant persona and he was clearly enjoying the role. I wasn’t sure when I made the agreement how I was going to feel if this persona came out, if I would be scared by it or welcoming. I was welcoming it big time. Chris was taking control of every aspect of my sex drive, making sure that I firmly knew where I stood and what I had asked for. I knew now I wasn’t going to get out of this easily and I could tell Chris was going to make me earn any relief I was going to get from now on.
The noise of myself breathing and the occasional clink of my restraints was the only thing I heard close by for quite some time. I could hear Chris moving about in the house every now and then, occasionally I thought I’d heard him come to the door of the room but I could not be sure. I wondered how it was that he wasn’t gaging to cum himself, surely he was ready to come and finish himself off, but I did know Chris. I remember his evil side and it’s in full swing, I released it, and god why is it still turning me on so much.
Finally I hear a footstep and the bed moves, I feel Chris’s knees up against the inside of my thighs as he positions himself kneeling over my bum. “I bet you can’t wait to have my cock slide into your arse. Do you want me to fuck you?” I manage a muffled uhha. “You asked to be my boy, you said here’s my cock you can lock it away. You said your cock was mine and it was up to me to decide when you were allowed to cum.” My cock was starting to hurt now, pressed against the bed and confined it its cage I was starting to wish Chris would stop talking, how much hornier can a boy get. “Your my boy now, your cocks mine and your arse is mine!” I felt Chris lean over me toward the side dresser. I heard it open and close. My arse then felt that familiar cold sensation of the lube being drizzled into it. My cock strained some more, I was gagging to be fucked but the next sensation I felt concerned me. I didn’t feel Chris’s warm body lay down onto my back or his thick warm cock touch the rim of my anus, instead a cold hard object began penetrating me. I could feel it thicken and stretch my anus as it was forced in slowly. Chris was inserting a butt plug into me. He wasn’t going to fuck me, instead just tease me. The base of the plug forced its way inside me as I held my breath attempting not to tense as my arse stretched to accommodate its width. This was one of my favourite plugs, large and filling, you always knew you had it inside you but it wasn’t big enough to make you feel to uncomfortable. Once it was in though it certainly wasn’t going anywhere either. It slid into place as my anus closed around it and it wasn’t gonna come out again without some help.
“There you go. I would say every bit of you is chastised now. No mouth to blow, no butt to fuck and no dick to touch.” I was fucked, but more in the literal sense as I wasn’t getting any relief now. I loved this plug because it always sat just next to my prostate, always making me hornier, which is exactly what it was doing. But it never really massaged the prostate either, just stopped anything else from touching it, just made me horny.
I let out a slight whimper again moving my hips up and down on the bed in an attempt to make the plug feel like it could stimulate me. It did nothing but confirm that it was solidly inside me. “I told you you’d need those whimpers bitch. I hope to be forcing many more out of that mouth of yours.” Chris now lay down on top me, his warm body pinning my hips to the bed. I could feel his cock pressing up against the top of my arse, pressing onto the plug and forcing it further into me. I felt his chin caress the side of my neck and his arms push into my ribs on both sides. I whimpered again.
Chris sat up once more back to where he had been, kneeling between my spread legs. I felt his hand grab the end of my Cb and once more his finger entered the piss slit and begin to rub the tip of my caged cock. I felt the bed begin to rock steadily and the sound of lube being squelched between fingers. Chris’s body moved up and down on his knees as he began to bring himself to climax with his other hand, his legs and feet pushing into mine. All I could do was lie there as nothing more than an object restrained on the bed. I felt as horny as I could ever be, overwhelmed and almost sick to the stomach by a primitive need to expel my semen. Yet I was removed from the sexual act that was taking place on top of me. I wasn’t able to take part, I was no longer a sexual partner at this point in time, just a chastised object belonging to Chris and his sexual desire. I was amazed this was happening, that I had been taken here by my boyfriend and that I was being used in this way. Now what’s next. What happens when you open Pandora’s box.
In only a few minutes I felt Chris’s warm semen spray all over my back and arse. A long moan from him signaled a release of monumental energy that he had clearly been building up over the last few hours. The same energy that was locked inside of me with nowhere to go. Chris eventually stood up off the bed, “Oh my Boy, that was amazing. You look so fucking hot right now. See what your missing out on from now on.” That was true and now really hit home as to what I had committed myself to, but at the same time it excited me more than I thought it really would. Although ready to crawl the walls with sexual energy and frustration, the feeling was amazing.
Chris left the room leaving me tied, blindfolded and completely chastised on the bed. My body was beginning to ache now from the restraints but I felt relaxed, exhausted yet comfortable in being left alone to ponder in my mind the change the relationship had just taken. Up until this point I hadn’t thought Chris was going to take my request for chastity as seriously. I thought he’d give in and let me cum often at least, but now I knew I was definitely chastised, definitely under my boyfriend’s control and fuck, what a feeling. Chris soon returned to undo my restraints, gag and blindfold for which I was grateful. There was a slim chance he’d leave me like that a lot longer.
“So was that everything you were hoping for?” Chris smirked as he sat on the bed beside me.
“Yeah it was. You have no idea how horny this, it feels amazing.” I sat up next to Chris still fully erect in my CB6000 and still plugged. “I wasn’t sure you were actually as into this as much.”
“I wanted to string you along for a little bit. I thought you’d be begging after a week to be let out. So after 3 weeks I assumed you were ready to learn the truth.”
“What, that you love having me locked up.” I responded cheekily.
“Well yes, and I’ve wanted it that way for a long time.” I felt a little shocked but excited by Chris’s statement. “You still think that I’m going let you cum every now and then. Like I said, you won’t be. Your my Boi now, I’m still your Boyfriend but I own your cock and arse. You will get used to that plug to because it will be in you whenever I want to use you to get my rocks off. Is that clear?”
What the fuck have I got myself into here. Why the fuck is my dick still so erect at hearing this. Oh wait, its exactly what I wanted. But I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick. “Yes Sir.”
“Your dick never lies, Boi.” Chris grabbed my hand and led me into our bathroom. He opened the shower screen door and began to run a shower for the both of us. We had a massive shower cubicle in this house of ours and it was a godsend on mornings when we both had to leave the house at the same time to be able to shower together. Chris entered first before me gesturing me to follow him. We took turns in lathering soap over each other and the warm water began to distract me from my chastity and the plug still firmly rooted in my arse. We kissed and laughed at the situation I had put myself in and Chris told me once more how he thought I’d loved to cum too much to be in this state. But as he finished saying that remark and as a smile brushed along my face, he looked at me sternly. “Well you have no choice now. Your opportunity to change this is over!” And with that he placed his hands on top of my head and forced me onto my knees. His penis thrusts its self toward me and without a chance to object it was forced down my throat.
Once more I was reduced to Chris’s sexual object, and still I loved what was happening. My never ending erection again thumped away inside its cage. My anus clenched at the plug hoping for some kind of stimulus. This was how it was going to be from now on. He knew that when I was like this I was vulnerable, horny and willing to do what he desired and he was going to make me pay for asking to be this way. It was now a matter of how long I could last being his chaste Boi. Would I continue to beg for more and more, or how long before I would crumble.
I had just finished my Ph.D. in December and found myself without any potential employment opportunities in the near future. As luck would have it, a company near my hometown was advertising a position near my hometown. It was my mother who had sent me the newspaper link to the job. Her and my step-dad were getting older and she insisted that I apply for the job and move back home with them so they would have someone to help them maintain the ranch. After applying for the job and getting an interview, I was hired. Now after years of independence, I was moving back home with my parents while I worked to pay off student loans and catch up on credit card bills.
The job was good. I enjoyed the company and the people I worked with. Returning home was awkward for me but there were no issues. I had my own room. Mom made dinner and washed clothes. I spent weekends working on chores outside. My step-dad worked while mom stayed at home. All-in-all, the arrangement was beneficial to both of us.
I had always known that I was gay but never shared that information with anyone other than the random guys I would meet online. I never dated girls and always used my studies as an excuse. After I left for college and lived by myself, I became a chronic masturbator. Mostly, I jerked off to online porn until I discovered the eunuch website and started reading the erotic stories. It wasn’t long before I purchased an elastrator and began to experiment with banding myself while reading the stories. Bear in mind, I had no intention of ever being castrated-I just enjoyed the stories about others being castrated.
Now that I was at my parents house, I was no longer able to masturbate whenever I felt like it so I decided to purchase a chastity cage in the hopes that it would curb my desire. To be honest, it did help quite a bit. The cage was a small steel 1 1/2” Attica Hell extra short model which wasn’t even a tight fit around my flaccid cock. For several months, I would wear the cock cage for two weeks at a time before unlocking it and masturbating. After I had cum, I would put it back on and begin the countdown to my next release.
Now that I have prefaced my story with a little background information, it’s time to explain the rest of the story. It all started after I viewed a pair of pink crotchless panties on Amazon and order them. A little over a week later, the tracking app alerted me that they had been delivered from China. Imagine my surprise when I got home from work and discovered the panties were mailed in a clear plastic wrapper with a description of the panties on one side and my name and address on a label on the other side. Of course my step dad gets home before I do and always retrieves the mail for my mom so they both saw my order. I vowed at that time to never ever order anything from China again. When asked about the panties, all I could do was confess that I had ordered them but that I had done so as a birthday gag gift for a friend that was always whining like a girl. I thought I was convincing. Mom helped wrapped the panties as I carried out the charade. A few days later she asked if I had given them to my friend and if he liked them. I told her I did and everyone got a laugh out of it. Of course I had secretly stashed them away in my closet along with my elastrator. That was strike one in May.
My second strike came less than a month later when mom asked to use my laptop to shop e-bay. I didn’t think anything about it and let her, knowing all my porn was hidden deep within fake file names. There was no way she would discover anything incriminating. What I didn’t count on is that when she opened the internet browser and typed “e” for e-bay in the google search, eunuch.org was returned. No doubt she saw my panic stricken face as she stopped typing and looked at me with disbelief. I explained that google automatically offers suggestions for random websites as you type since it is a search engine. I told her to type “b” and watch as google would return another website suggestion. She did and so did google. I knew google like to offer suggestions for recently visited sites but I was hoping she didn’t know enough about google to know that little tidbit.
While I can’t recall the exact dates of my first two careless acts, I surely remember my third careless act occurred on Saturday, July 15th. I had been working outside all day and drenched in sweat and covered in dirt. When I came inside, I was looking forward to a refreshing shower so I went to my bedroom and stripped naked, tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner.Coincidentally, this was also my weekend to masturbate so I also decided to remove my cock cage and give my cock and balls a fresh smooth shave while I was in the shower. I tossed the cage on the foot of the bed and took my shower. Masturbation day was typically Sunday morning while my parents went grocery shopping so I dutifully put myself back into my cock cage. It wasn’t until the moment I heard the padlock click that I realized the key I had left in it when I removed it was no longer in it. I frantically looked all over the bedroom and bathroom for the missing key but could not find it anywhere. Strike three. When I looked in the hamper for my dirty pants to see if I had left they key in my pocket, there were no dirty clothes. What I didn’t know was that while I was in the shower, my mom had come into my room to get the dirty clothes and throw them into the washing machine. She spotted the cock cage and the bed and she took the keys.
I had two choices: either confront her to get the keys back or remain silent and locked in chastity indefinitely. One the one hand, I was an adult and if I enjoyed chastity then that was my prerogative. One the other hand, it wasn’t a subject I cared to discuss with my mom. I chose the latter option figuring she would bring it up and then I could explain how it was none of her business. In the meantime, I could figure out a way to remove the cock cage. Point of fact, neither of us discussed it and I found it was impossible to escape from this cock cage.
It wasn’t until the first week of September that I had finally managed to cum again. While reading a hot story on the eunuch website, I was frantically shaking my cock cage while fingering my asshole. I must have hit the right spot because cum began to ooze out of my cock. The sensation was new and unique. My balls gave no indication that I was about to cum nor did my body tense up. If it wasn’t for the puddle of cum, I would not have known that I had an orgasm. Nor did I know that I just cum for the very last time. I often close my eyes and remember that moment. My parents had gone grocery shopping and I was outside on the patio naked. The story I was reading was about two boys lost at sea who were rescued but later castrated by the captain of the ship that rescued them. My cock was hardening, straining to be freed from its tiny cage. As I shook the cage, I could feel the metal slap against the head of my cock and it reacted by straining hard against its confines. I put my finger in my mouth to moisten it with spit and slowly inserted it into my ass. I withdrew my finger and started to slide it back in. The cum oozed out of my cock, dribbling down the shaft of my cock but remaining within the cage until finally reaching my balls. I cupped by hand below my balls and waited for the puddle of cum to form as my seed slowly oozed down the shaft of my cock. My cum was thick and plentiful and tasted like nectar as I licked it from the palm of my hand.
Since I had been in total chastity since July, I hadn’t banded my balls. I tried once but it was too difficult to slip the band over my balls due to the short cage nudging against the locking band. There was just no way to get the prongs of the elastrator over my nuts to the base of my balls. So the elastrator sat in my closet, hidden, unused and forgotten. That is until the end of September. I don’t know what mom was looking for or why she was looking in my closet. All I was to learn later was that she found the elastrator. At the time, nothing was said. I already had three strikes against me: 1) the panty order; 2) the eunuch website popping up on the computer; 3) the cock cage on my bed. Now the discovery of the elastrator had occurred. I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to draw a conclusion. The conclusion may not be correct but the pieces of the puzzle fit together.
It was abnormally hot on the Saturday of October 7th. I had spent most of the day clearing brush along the fence line and replacing damaged sections of the fence. Mom came out to see how I was doing and commented on how nice it looked before asking if I wanted something to drink. “Sure, bring me some lemonade,” I replied. A few minutes later, she and my step-dad returned with a tall glass of lemonade. Being parched, I drank most of it in one gulp. The effects of the large dose of muscle relaxant medication she mixed into the lemonade were almost immediate. My head began to spin and my knees became weak and wobbly. In no time, I collapsed to the ground in a paralyzed state. Conscious but dazed, I was helpless as my step-dad lifted me up and leaned me against the wooden fence. Mom had the rope she used to tie me spread eagle up against the fence. I wasn’t sure what was going on but knew it had been planned. I tried to protest, to demand to know what they were doing but could barely manage to mumble a few syllables before my eyelids grew heavier and closed.
I’m not sure how long I was out but it was pitch black dark when I came to. I immediately realized that I was completely naked and alone. The cold night air sent shivers throughout my body. I tried to call out for help but my mouth had been taped shut. My balls ached immensely, like a bad toothache had migrated to my groin. I was still tied to the fence and tried to struggle free. Some of my strength had returned but I was still too weak to struggle long. I could feel the throbbing pain shooting through my balls as I struggled to free myself. I wanted nothing more than to stop the pain in my balls. I had no idea what was causing the pain.
That night was a living hell for me without any exaggeration. Being tied spread eagle to a fence was extremely uncomfortable. The cold night air chilled my naked body to the core. My imagination ran wild with every noise I heard coming from the wood line. Then there was the intense pain coming from my balls. After all the stories I had read on the eunuch website, I couldn’t help but fear that I was being castrated. When the sun came up, I would see a green band around my dead balls. At this very moment, while I was tied to the fence, my balls were slowly being strangle. I could envision them changing color as they had done so often when I used to band myself. I tried to reassure myself that my parents would never do that to me but began to wonder why they would castrate me. No, somehow the chastity cage was causing the pain. The sun will rise and I’ll see everything is okay. I can attest, being alone in the stillness of a dark night definitely stirs up the imagination.
The pain in my balls intensified over what seemed like several hours. I wished I could close my eyes and sleep through the pain but there was no way that would happen. Then all of the sudden, the pain began to dissipate. I tried to think about it but I couldn’t help but to realize that my balls were totally dead. Time seemed to pass ever so slowly. I thought the sun would never rise but eventually I could see the red and gold hue of morning on the horizon. I was reluctant to look down at my balls but curiosity got the best of me. I was hoping for the best but expecting the worse. The first thing I saw was my cock cage. I was lying on the ground. Instantly, I knew that was not the source of the pain. Lying next to my cock cage was my elastrator.I looked down at my balls. My flaccid cock drooped down over my balls but I could see they were black as shoe polish. Three green elastrator bands were wrapped around the base of my nutsack. I tried to choke back the tears but it was useless and I was soon sobbing like a child.
By the time my parents came out to see me, the sun had dried out the morning dew. Neither of them said a word and of course I was unable to say anything to them with the tape over my mouth. One by one, they each felt and tugged on my balls, both smiling to each other. Mom simply nodded to my step-dad after that. He had come prepared to finish the job. I know he had castrate animals before but I wasn’t an animal and began to fear this would end badly for me. I could only watch helplessly as he proceeded to emasculate me. He held my balls in his hand as he stuck a safety pin through my scrotum sack and closed it. The safety pin was inserted directly below the first green band closest my body. I didn’t feel so much as a pinch as it went in. Next, he took a tube of superglue and began to apply some to each side of the same green band then waited for the glue to dry. Mom picked up the filet knife as my step-dad held onto my balls. I knew there was nothing I could do. Aside from being tied to the fence, I knew my balls were dead. It was way too late to change that. The only thing that could be done know was to cut off the dead balls before they rotted and caused more problems. I remained motionless as my step-dad pulled down on my balls. Mom took that as her cut to begin cutting. I watched as she made one long slice through my nutsack. Just like that, they were separated from my body. Despite the immense pain I had experienced the night prior, there was hardly any pain associated with my castration. I felt the knife slice through my sack but it wasn’t painful at all. I can still remember seeing my own severed balls in my step-dad’s hand. He clenched them in his fist as he reared back and threw them deep into the woods. He had thrown my balls in the direction of the sun. I did see them leave his hand but that was the last time I saw my manhood. Off in the distance, I heard them crash through the leafy tree canopy.
In the days after, we never talked about the incident. My parents never told me why they castrated me and I never asked. It was like nothing ever happened. I just like to pretend that they did it out of love to make me happy. In all honesty, I am glad that I am a eunuch. The day they removed my balls has become the day I became free to be myself. My castration fantasy had become reality. My masturbation problem has been solved. Mom bought me several pair of crotchless panties for Christmas and I still enjoy reading castration stories on the eunuch website without the need to be sneaky about it. I’ve learned to embrace my sexuality and have met several wonderful men on the eunuch website who adore me for what I have become. I don’t need a hard cock or the ability to cum as long as I have a man who gives me his hard cock and cum.