The night after castrating and sending my former slave off to his fate, I slept well, knowing that I had done the right thing. Now, however, I was without a slave. Good slaves, the kind one keeps, are difficult to find. I resolved to select very carefully this time.
My search began on the ‘Net. Using my access to the highly secure “Masters Only” website, I posted a “Slave Wanted” notice. After a few weeks of no replies, I decided to check the usual haunts in the city – a none too enticing prospect. However, to my good fortune, I was greeted with the sight of a slight young Asian man moving into my building. He looked to be perfect slave material. He was in his early twenties, slender and very feminine in his movements and gestures. His attitude suggested a wealthy upbringing. Often, wealthy Asian families “exile” their gay offspring to New York City, where they fit into the culture readily. At home, they would be an embarrassment, causing loss of face and scandal. This young man was just moving in. It was mildly amusing watching him order the moving company personnel around with his effeminate gestures and high-pitched voice.
Later, I asked the doorman which apartment he had taken. I was told “11C,” in a tone that indicated displeasure, probably over an insufficient gratuity, certainly not over his sexual orientation.
I let my candidate settle in for a few days, and then prepared a note which read “If you want a good master, be in the lobby on Friday at noon wearing a red kerchief around your neck.” This, I slipped under his door after I had seen him leave the building with his dog. I waited the few days until Friday, then went down to the lobby at noon. He was there, a blazing red scarf wrapped around his slim neck. I walked over, smiling. His face lit up. “I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “Come with me. Now,” I told him firmly. Obediently, he followed me into the elevator and, after the ride up, into the foyer of my apartment. I explained the necessity of a blood test before he was initiated. This he understood and agreed to. I tied off his right arm, painted the inside of his elbow with antiseptic, punctured one of his veins and withdrew several tubes of blood for testing. He let me do all this without resistance. I packaged the tubes, called the lab for pickup, then had the doorman come fetch the package from outside my apartment. The results, which I hoped would be negative, would be phoned to me tomorrow morning. That out of the way, I began to explain what was expected of him. Absolute obedience without any discussion was the first requirement. No matter how unpleasant the task seemed, he was to undertake it immediately and without argument. As my slave, he would be well cared for but his unwavering devotion was expected at all times. Displeasing me would result in long, painful punishments the like of which he couldn’t even imagine. I explained to him what I had done with my previous slave. He understood. I also explained that I would be removing his balls as soon as the test results came back. At first, a little fear blossomed in his eyes, but that was soon swept away by a look of complete submission.
Ordered to strip, he did so quickly. He pirouetted, spread his butt cheeks for my examination. His balls were medium sized, hung in a small sac just below his uncut penis, which was none too large in length or diameter. His body was slender and firm, his skin was healthy. His hair was a bit too long for my taste. The overall impression was one of a restrained urge to please in any way possible. I approved. If the tests worked out, he would make an excellent slave.
To my question about how he had come to move into my building, he answered that one afternoon his father had caught him in the throes of passionate lovemaking with a boy from his school. He and the other boy had been beaten unmercifully. Because his partner was of the lower classes, his punishment had been less severe. To avoid embarrassment to his wealthy family, he had been taught English by a female tutor and had not been allowed in the presence of any other male, except his Father, while he was being educated for his exile to our country. He told me that he had missed his friend, but that he realized that there was no way for him to have any such relationship in his country. His family had set up a trust fund to cover his needs, purchased an apartment for him to live in and told him never to try to get in touch with them again. His father was looking forward to being notified of his death from AIDS. He went on to say that he had long dreamed of being subjected to the will of a strong male and that he hated his testicles and wanted them removed. In all, he seemed the perfect slave candidate.
I explained to him that he was always to address me as “master” and that I would always address him as “slave,” since I would have only one slave at a time. He accepted this with a “Yes, Master.” We retired to separate rooms for the night.
The lab called the following day to let me know that he was negative for HIV and other venereals tested for. It was time to get to work.
Several years ago, I had had a soundproof room constructed in my apartment for the purpose of disciplining slaves without disturbing my neighbors. The room had an adjustable restraining table, a small surgical sterilizing facility, a video camera, TV and VCR for recording, a microwave and other equipment, such as ceiling and wall hooks. The room had its own plumbing. It was painted in white enamel and all the hardware was of stainless steel. Clean and efficient. Over time, I had castrated a number of other masters’ slaves as well as two of my own.
In preparation for harvesting his glands, I had my slave bathe in hot water to soften and loosen his scrotal skin. Using antiseptic soap, I washed off his entire body and carefully depilated his scrotum. He enjoyed this prepping and became fully erect as I escorted him into my special room. Forbidden to speak, he had given several gasps of pleasure while bathing and being cleaned. At the sight of the table, he let his towel fall to the floor and turned to me with a questioning look. Without a word, I turned him around to face the table, adjusted it to his height, inserted his erection into the hole provided and strapped his legs down firmly, spread apart so that his sac hung down and was easily accessible.
Because I like to operate in silence, there was an inflatable heavy rubber gag supplied by a hose near the table. This I took and placed into my slave’s mouth, on top of his tongue, then turned a stopcock to allow compressed air to inflate the gag. The valve allowed air to flow into the gag. Deflating it was accomplished by unscrewing another valve in the gag. Shortly, the gag filled his mouth. He couldn’t cry out and could breathe only through his nose. I applied the arm and head restraints. I moved the TV in front of the table and opened up the eye slot so that he could see the screen. Next, I positioned the video camera so that an image of his hanging balls appeared on the screen. Completely gagged and tightly restrained, he could watch his own castration.
From the way he was suggestively moving his butt, I could tell that he wanted me to fuck him. I decided to fuck him until he came, holding my own orgasm until he was fully my slave. Using jojoba oil as a lubricant, I inserted myself into his tight butt hole, slowly working my way in. It felt good. It took a lot of pressure to make his sphincter give way, and the slave gave a muffled cry as I suddenly advanced my full length up into him. With willpower, I held myself back, using my prod to massage his prostate until I felt it pulse repeatedly against my cockhead. Although I couldn’t see, I knew that his dick had jetted his last sperm-bearing load out onto the floor under the table. Pulling out immediately, I washed off my cock with antiseptic solution, then painted his dangling sac with antiseptic all the way up and back to his butt hole. Now he was ready. A hair dryer set at maximum heat provided the stream of hot air that loosened his sac and made his balls dangle far from his body. I made a small cut parallel to where his scrotum joined his body. With a small pair of surgical scissors, I snipped carefully around the sac where it joined his body, being careful to cut only the sac skin. When the circle was complete, I tugged his scrotum free, leaving his small balls dangling by their cords from his body. They looked like pinkish-gray cherries hanging there, waiting to be picked. Using my electrocautery needle, I sealed up the bleeders in the circular sac wound. To simplify his nutting, I twirled his balls around each other until the cords formed a single braid. This I sutured off as close to his body as possible. “Are you ready to give up your balls, slave?” He nodded his head. With a single swipe of the scalpel, I harvested his manhood. Working quickly, I cauterized the ends of the cords, then ran a suture in and out of the skin all the way around the open cut where his sac had been. With one finger, I pushed the cords back up into his body, then drew the suture very tight, closing the sac wound like a purse. I tied off the suture and spent a few minutes cauterizing any spots that looked as if they might bleed. When the wound healed, my slave would have a small roseate scar just below the base of his penis instead of a sac containing balls. A big improvement for a slave, believe me. I painted the area with antiseptic again. Now it was my turn. First, I loosened the straps that were immobilizing his legs. After painting my sac with antiseptic to avoid spreading infection, I inserted myself into his backside again and took my pleasure as the first man to have this eunuch slave. My pleasure was enhanced by his rapid movements, and, after a few minutes I emptied my balls up his ass with a great cry of release. A fully satisfying orgasm, one I would not soon forget.
I deflated his gag and freed him from the restraints. He stood up and looked at me expectantly. “Clean up the room. When you are finished, bring me your severed parts,” I ordered. After about twenty minutes, he presented me with his severed balls in a small stainless steel bowl.. My inspection revealed that he had done an excellent job cleaning up. Everything was sterilized and back where it belonged. An excellent job. This slave would serve me well. I picked up his dead balls. “Open your mouth, slave!” I placed his balls into his open mouth and closed it. “Now, chew and swallow.” He did so. So began his life as my eunuch slave.
I awake with a jolt when several intruders invade my bedroom and pin me to my bed.
The blankets are taken off me, and my underwear is pulled down. Someone has me in a head lock, others have my arms pinned, and yet more have my spread legs securely immobilized.
My ball bag is squeezed by a merciless hand and yanked violently down toward my thighs. I feel as though my testicles will be pulled right off my body because my scrotum cannot be stretched any more. My balls instinctively attempt to find refuge in my lower abdomen but they are held captive by the intruders.
All I can see are the shadowed forms of my assailants in the soft glow of a nightlight plugged into the wall near my bed. I count at least a half-dozen of them.
I feel the cold sharpness of a knife blade press against my scrotum and I discern a sawing motion there as my nut sack yields to the blade without resistance. And suddenly I realize that I am about to be castrated right there in my bed! I squirm and attempt to wrestle free, but I am held firm. I cannot stop what is about to happen. I surrender to the inevitable: I am going to be emasculated!
The one at my head hisses fiendishly, “You know what this is about, don’t you?”
Of course I knew. I had been warned that if I ever went public with the details of my brief same-sex affair with a male celebrity, I would be compelled to surrender my balls as payment for my disclosure. I knew the eventuality of this, but I never actually dreamed it would really happen!
But here I was, legs spread, naked, my genitals exposed, vulnerable and unprotected, and my balls about to be excised from my crotch. It was really going to happen! I was really going to lose my balls! My testicles were actually going to be taken!
As I contemplate my impending castration, my mind frantically mulls over the events leading up to this moment…
I met Armando “Marty” Martinez (his stage name) when I, as a cable repairman, was summoned to his home to run a diagnostic check on all his cable junction boxes.
It was the last service call of the day. Marty answered the door in his bathrobe and explained that he was about to take a shower when I knocked.
When it was obvious to Marty by the look on my face that I was trying to place his familiarity in my mind, he grinned and said calmly, “I know, you think you’ve met me before. I was on that TV show back in the 90s. You’probably seen me on TV.”
Of course! That’s why he looked so familiar. Truth be known, I had a crush on Marty when I watched that show. I’m sure that I, along with many a female teeny-bopper, fantasized about being with him naked.
He showed me where the junction boxes were; living room, dining area, and bedroom, and then hit the shower.
I quickly ruled out any problems in the two junctions boxes in the front rooms, and so focused on the one in Marty’s bedroom.
Once there, however, I gaped shamelessly at Marty’s beautiful nakedness in that shower! He had not bothered to close the bathroom door, and was on full lustful display in my line of sight where I worked on the junction box. It’s as though Marty wanted to be seen.
I chose to pursue this career because it seemed the macho thing to do. You see, I am a closeted queer scared to death that my homosexuality will become known to others, and I pump iron, keep in shape, and talk about my exploits with women so that no one will know my secret sexual identity or compulsions. But when afforded the opportunity to look at men or check out the guys, I can’t help myself. I give in to my lusts and unrestrained fantasies every time.
I am also attracted to women, but my most powerful urges and desires are for men. And so when I caught furtive glances at Marty’s nakedness, I was captivated in a way difficult to describe! Not only was he a great looking guy, he was famous!
I surveyed his olive-toned skin. I lusted over his genital region remarkable for its thick black pubic hair, uncircumcised penis and dangling nut sack. When Marty turned toward the shower head to rinse off, his backside was in full erotic display for me. I became fixated on his butt, the sensuality of his crack, his strong leg muscles and his chiseled back muscles. He kept in shape; beautiful statuesque shape!
I fumbled with my tools as I shot glances at him in that shower.I don’t recall now if I even fixed the problem with the cable I was so obsessed and distracted by his nakedness.
Occasionally, we made eye contact, and Marty smiled. Even though I was embarrassed to be caught looking at him, I was drawn to him and that smile I’d seen a dozen times on that TV show.
After his shower, he wrapped a towel around his loins and offered me a drink. I declined, telling him I was on call and couldn’t risk a DUI. He then offered me a soft drink, which I accepted.
As we talked in the dining area where the bar was, he kept fidgeting with that towel. Occasionally it slipped down a little and I caught a glimpse of a cheek, or a small bit of pubic hair. He even once pulled it all the way off and re-wrapped himself with it, giving me a full view of his beautiful naked body.
He told me that after the show was canceled he cut a few albums, and did bit roles in some movies, and was lately highlighting a midnight show in Las Vegas. He was 38-years-old, two years my senior.
I have to admit that I enjoyed being in the presence of this famous guy and didn’t really want to leave. He seemed interested in knowing about me, and asked questions about my job, my family, and future plans.
After about 45 minutes, he looked me square in the eyes and asked, “Did you like what you saw in the shower?”
I was floored! Damn straight I liked it! But I sheepishly looked down and barely muttered, “Yes.”
He stood up and let the towel fall to the floor. He sat next to me on the sofa and began unzipping my pants. Within seconds I was as naked as he was! Even though I was reveling in what was happening, heady that this was a famous celebrity, and eager for what was going to happen next, I was aware that I had worked all day, and that I didn’t smell very good. I mentioned it to him.
“Not at all,” Marty responded. “I sometimes enjoy the male scent of a working man: his musky under arm aroma, the faint fragrance of his sweat, and the unabashed smell of his crotch.”
So there it was: I was being hit on by a famous celebrity! And I was enjoying it to the hilt!
We soon ended up in Marty’s bed where he was brutal and aggressive in his seduction. While I enjoyed sucking his penis and caressing his masculine features, Marty seemed more interested in using me as a sexual plaything. He pounded his erect cock into my anus, stabbed my butt hole with his finger, and forced his aroused penis into my mouth so far I thought the back of my throat would be pierced by it. While he penetrated my eager anus, I feared his thrusting would rupture my rectum and my prostate. I attempted a time or two to resist, but Marty became more aggressive.
So I relented and allowed this man to have his way with me. While I was alarmed and shocked a few times at his muscular mastery over me, I also wanted him in the worst way. Not only was I being fucked by a famous man whom I had lusted over a decade and a half ago, this was my first same sex encounter!
Yet when we tangled in those bed sheets and worked up a sex-saturated sweat, Marty seemed to be performing to an unseen audience, and some of the things he said were not directed toward me as much as to an anonymous personality not there in the room with us. It occurred to me then that he had put something in his drink to enhance his libido and his energy.
When I was able to be dominant, I wanted to discover his anus. Common folks like me are always curious about the rich and famous: do they have pee holes and butt holes? Do they piss and shit? Do they react like normal, regular folks?
I had him on his belly sprawled out on the bed. I gently parted his to-die-for cheeks, and exposed his secret little puckered anal slit. Its circular shaped was brownish in color. I was overcome with lust and slid my finger in. He groaned in pleasure so I removed my finger and stimulated his famous anus with my tongue. Marty groaned again, more appreciatively.
I then wanted to satisfy another curiosity: I wanted to have this famous man’s aroused penis in my mouth again. I wanted to suck his nuts dry. I wanted to comb his pubes with my teeth. Marty climaxed powerfully in my mouth without warning. He pumped spurt after spurt of sperm into my mouth and onto my tongue. While my mouth eagerly accepted his cum, I was somewhat repulsed by the salty, slippery texture of his sperm. Even while the taste and warm feel was objectionable, I tried to savor it and then I swallowed it because I wanted to see what a famous person’s cum tasted and felt like. It burned my throat as it slid down into my belly. I resisted the compulsion to spit due to the after taste of his sperm because he was famous and I wanted to experience every aspect of this.
Finally, Marty was ready for my climax. But instead of masturbating me, or offering me his anus, his grabbed my nut sack and squeezed it tight, telling me, “You’d better enjoy your last cum because once you’re through squirting, I’m going to cut your balls off!”
He had me get on my hands and knees again, and yanked my balls back so far I knew he’d be able to stuff them up my asshole. So there I was, my butt facing Marty, my balls pulled tight in his hands, facelessly being compelled to cum so that he could cut my balls off! And yet, there was a thrill and excitement to this moment I have a hard time describing. My balls were at his mercy. He was threatening to castrate me once I climaxed. I was naked, my butt hole was exposed before him, and my hard cock was dangling between my legs. I looked up and saw our reflection in the mirror. What a rush! He was kneeling behind me taking possession of my testicles, threatening me with their removal, warning me to enjoy it because it was my last, and I did not want to stop it, full well knowing what he was threatening to do!
“If you don’t cum now, you never will,” he said warningly. I reached down and took firm hold of my penis. I began stroking it. At that moment, Marty slid his finger into my anus and began poking my prostate. Between the pleasurable sensations on my penis, the violating naughtiness of my anus being penetrated, and the menacing finality of Marty’s strong grasp on my squeezed testicles, I shot a powerful and prolonged stream of sperm all over Marty’s bed sheets. I pumped and pumped and pumped while Marty encouraged me with, “That’s right, give it all to me. Empty yourself. Pump your nuts dry. I have your balls in my hand and while you are having a climax right now, I hold in my hand all your future orgasms.”
I shot until I was sure I was dry, and then collapsed on the bed. Marty turned lose of my balls and slowly removed his finger from my anus. I shot another spurt or two of cum as he did.
I showered before I left that evening. But Marty had me sign some form he said protected him from “kiss and tell” lovers who exploited him and then made money on revealing details of his private life. I signed the form without reading it because I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone I had a queer encounter with an actor! Not even my parents knew I was a gay man.
Thus began an affair that lasted for several weeks. During our sex times, Marty became more and more verbal about castrating me, a threat I found curiously exciting and exhilarating. I can’t explain it, but when Marty yanked my balls as far away from my body as my scrotum would allow, and then announced passionately that my balls were his and were free for the taking, I became powerfully aroused and desirous of the extreme nakedness and exposure these utterances invoked in me!
I harbored a deep desire for Marty to take my testicles and keep them. The thought of being castrated at the height of an orgasm was powerfully arousing! Losing them at the precise moment of my most prolific ejaculations make me feel so naked and exposed, I dripped precum from my pee hole even when Marty wasn’t around.
As our sex play evolved, Marty revealed to me his own castration compulsions. He demanded that I bite his balls as hard as I could prior to his orgasm. He ordered me to suck his nuts right out of his sack! He said he would slice my nuts off if I didn’t bite his off! Such talk was so erotic and abruptly sensual, I just couldn’t get naked enough to satisfy my lusts. I enjoyed such encounters immensely. But yet, when we were sexing together, Marty just seemed to use me for his jollies and I never felt that my affection for him was requited. I had feelings for him that I didn’t think were mutual. It just seemed that I was a boy toy for him. Yet I couldn’t stop my descent.
I asked him once what he’d do with my testicles if he ever took them.
“I’d mount them on a plaque and openly display them as a warning to future lovers who are tempted to ‘kiss and tell,'” he said.
He insisted that I stay at his house full-time. He wanted me to remain completely naked 24/7, and be ready and available for his sexual needs at a moment’s notice.
Before long, I was beginning to see why famous people were so much different than us regular folks: they didn’t have to punch a time card and occupy their waking hours with the duties of keeping body and soul together. Marty’s demands on my life, my time, my anus and my mouth, began to interfere with my job.
I was soon fired for calling off so many times, and as my bills piled up and my rent was overdue, I became desperate.
My desperation was only met with more aloofness from Marty, who took a “wham-bam-thank-you-man” stance with me. When it became clear that I could not keep up with his sexual compulsions, Marty kicked me out of his house and told me not to return. I was barely able to get some clothes on my back before being shown the door.
Unemployed, hungry, pissed off, and resentful that I had been used and abused, I decided I was going to retaliate. But how? Then I remembered Marty’s “kiss and tell” fear. I called a tabloid newspaper and negotiated an exclusive story that netted me several thousand dollars. In the story I related how Marty had seduced me, was a flaming homo, enjoyed castration play, and was into some BDSM as well.
Yet, Marty’s career potential only escalated from that point on. He was a guest on talk shows, nailed down another recording contract, and was cast for an upcoming new movie that was sure to be a box office success. And in the days subsequent to the tabloid’s appearance in the supermarkets, I was struck with the fact that scandal only seemed to enhance a famous person’s career! That’s another way celebrities are different than the rest of us. Things that would normally obliterate us were the very things that elevated the famous into stellar heights!
I finally had to take a job as a waiter in a nice restaurant, and tried to put my experiences with Armando “Marty” Martinez (stage name) behind me.
Several more weeks passed before the midnight visitation by armed assailants.
As the blade begins its brief journey through my scrotum I relive all these events and come to understand that that form I signed in Marty’s house gave my consent to my castration. I realize that Marty is really going to take possession of my testicles and be the owner of all my future orgasms as my masculine orbs are removed from my crotch.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my breathing becomes labored. I mumble through my attackers’ hands to please halt. He removes his hand from my mouth. Knowing there was no persuading these intruders to abort their mission of castrating me and delivering my balls to Marty, I say in manic desperation,
“As long as you’re going to cut my balls off, would you please allow me to cum one last time?”
In the darkness of my room, I discern that the intruders are looking at each other and wordlessly considering my request.
“What harm would it do?” Says one. I see in the soft darkness another one nod his head. They still keep my legs pinned to the bed, but one of them frees my right arm.
“Okay, you’ve got five minutes, but we’re going to keep the knife at your balls and if you don’t cum within that deadline, we’re just going to slice them off and you’ll be denied your last cum!”
I frantically and feverishly begin working my soft penis over. It doesn’t respond. In my fear and panic, I worry that I’ll be denied my final orgasm out of the shear horror of my impending emasculation.
I hear the impatient sighs and breathing of my captors. Two minutes pass and I’m not even hard yet!
“Could you help me?” I ask plaintively.
“What?” says one of them.
“Could you insert your finger into my anus and stimulate my prostate? I think I might be able to get this over with quicker if you do.”
One of them jokes, “Can you believe this guy? He’s about to be nutted and he begs us to help him get off one last time!”
I am so desperate and desirous of one last cum that I am reduced to begging my cutters to help me cum before they nut me! I am driven by not only a compulsion to shoot my final load, but to request that my castrators help me with my final shoot! And I am perfectly willing to wank right in front of them and have my sperm eruption be a public event!
Yet even in my disbelief, I am enormously aroused when one of them pushes his finger into my anal hole all the way to the knuckle. My penis leaps a little. I envision that the finger is Marty’s aroused cock seeking a rectal orgasm and my penis grows again. My assailant probes my butt hole and pumps my prostate. My anal ring tightens around his finger and I’m able to wrap my hand around my hardening penis.
I wank for all I’m worth as the clock ticks towards my impending castration. I relive some of the sex encounters with Marty, and his castration play and threats. I recollect his beautiful nakedness, his pulsating penis and spurting sperm. I savor the memory of his lovely puckered, wrinkled anus and the taste, aroma and feel of his butt hole as I tongue him out. I feverishly stroke my fully-hard penis now as I reflect on Marty’s threats to deball me as he yanks my balls as far from my crotch as my stretched scrotum will allow. My butt cheeks are exposed and have been invaded by my assailants. I am as naked now as I’ve ever been. I am strangely enjoying this ordeal having accepted its inevitability.
Just as I’m about to erupt in a seismic orgasm, I feel the knife begin to work again, its sharpness slicing through my soft scrotum, my-soon-to-be-excised testicles at the mercy of the blade. My anus compresses around the finger of my nutter tighter than its ever been. My mind becomes blurred with orgasmic, hypnotic ecstasy. The knife continues my emasculation. My hand works my penis more feverishly now. Deep in my bowels I sense the combination of anal penetration and prostate pounding as my sperm convulsively makes its way from deep within me to my throbbing cock.
I feel the blade about half way through my ball bag as my first spurt of sperm shoots out about a foot in the air and lands on my belly. My cutter pulls on my scrotum harder and I feel as though my balls will be pulled off before they’re cut off. A second and then third voluminous sea of sperm erupts from my penis. My senses are heightened. My breathing sporadic. My eyes become glazed over as the inevitability of my orgasm gushes forth with a torrential flow of cum, simultaneously aware that my balls are being cut from my body at that precise moment!
The severing is complete.
I am all climaxed out now. My balls are held up by my cutter and I see my nut sack and its precious masculine contents in the soft glow of the nightlight. I have been rendered nutless. I am not the man I used to be. I am a eunuch now!
As I contemplate my emasculation, I fully relax my body in an after-orgasm let down. The man’s finger is slowly removed from my butt and the sensations of anal violation prompt me to squirt another small drop of cum. It dribbles from the tip of my softening penis, and streams down my fist which is still wrapped around my male member. The sperm on my belly begins to cool.
Now that I’m unmanned, I’m not a threat to my assailants. They turn loose of me and I sink down deeply in my bed, my hand still holding my penis.
A towel is placed at my crotch to staunch the flow of blood. I am still breathing heavily as I watch my assailants place my severed testicles in a sandwich bag.
“The boss will want to see them,” one of them mutters.
They all exit my room as I lay panting on my bed. I look down at my chest and belly and in the soft glow of the nightlight, I see the glistening globs of my final orgasm pooled there. I have no balls any more, hence I’ll have no more sperm, no more sexual urges, and no more obsessions. But then, it was my obsessions that got me into this predicament, I realize.
Nutless and naked, I contemplate whether getting my rocks off with a celebrity was worth getting my rocks cut off. I conclude that it wasn’t. But the ride I was on that ultimately resulted in my testicles being taken was such a rush, I know I’ll relive the pleasures, the pain, the erotica, and the recollections of it for the rest of my life!
Now that my testicles have been taken, memories are all I’ll have left!
I rise gently from my bed, and dial 9-1-1, remembering what Marty said he’d do with my testicles if he had to take them: mount them on a plaque in his home to display for future lovers who may be tempted to “kiss and tell.”
Castrated. Damn…hard to believe, but it happened, sure as shit it did, and I’ll never forget that slice of the knife as long as I live. Nope, that is imbedded in my brain like it was yesterday.
It all started over a girl, like a lot of things I suppose. My girl. The boy’s name was Dakota Jennings, and he went after my girl and she fell for the bastard and I don’t know why. But after she dumped me, I was mad as hell, and when you are mad and a horny teenager and missing the senor prom because some jerkwad has stolen your girl then sometimes you do what has to be done.
Now, I wasn’t stupid. I knew enough for example not to try to capture the bastard by myself, because he was one hell of a strong kid and I sure as hell knew enough to know that. He was a swimmer, with that perfect body of a developing adolescent and the real truth was that I envied him. He was a jock, plain and simple, while I was a lanky 130 pound 18 year old with a pencil dick. I had acne too; not too extreme I suppose but still there non-the-less, and I grew my hair long and it covered my ears. Dakota on the other hand had that clean cut short hair all American look that pissed me off, and which the girls seemed to craze. He had perfect blue eyes and a perfect orthodontic smile and a set of six-pac abs, and along with all that he had perfect grades, and I hated him.
He and I had shared a senior gym class, where the jock ruled and I was the laughing stock, and while I hated every minute he seemed to relish it. One thing I knew from that class was that he was hung too, at least in the balls department, and I had seen him in gym enough times to know the kid had a big set of bullocks. Huge would be a better description! God, when he pulled off his jock after sweating through class they literally swung between his legs, like two big plumbs ripe for the picking! I think it was the fact he was so proud of them, and also because of the way they seemed to emphasize his manliness, that I decided to take them. I knew enough to know that once he’d lost is balls his interest in Linda would dry up in a hurry, and from my way of thinking, she’d come back to me once I turned her new boyfriend into a eunuch.
I knew why she had taken a liking to him. Hell, all the girls liked him. And next to Dakota I looked like a boy. For one thing, I was rail thin, and I didn’t have much in the way of the muscle department. I tried to compensate by going over to the EMO look, with my jet black hair and deep brown eyes. I had a tongue piercing, and two earrings in one ear, and I was looking at tats and hoping to get one in the near future. I had been in trouble a few times with the law, did some drugs and got caught at it, and also had ripped off a few homes that only Linda knew about. So, I guess I was a kid going nowhere, while he on the other hand was heading for college and an oh-so-perfect future upper-class life.
It was all so unfair! And, it even went so far as sexual development. At 18 I had two little patches of black hair under each armpit, and another small little patch above my five inch dick, but other than that I was as smooth as a ten year old. My legs were for the most part devoid of hair as well, and there wasn’t even a thin line between my navel and my dick. My chest was totally smooth, and my flat stomach didn’t have a sign of muscle. Shit—to be a senior in high school with a little boy look was embarrassing as hell, and I was certainly humiliated by the way my body was turning out. It didn’t help my balls were small, at least they were next to most of the guys in gym class, and of course I got laughed at regularly. Dakota was a jock, a man in every since of the word, with a big cock and a massive set of nuts and that oh-so-perfect body all guys wish they had. Then, he took my girl, and after that at night I would jerk off my thin cock to the thought of castrating Dakota, and I’d shoot my watery load onto my chest to the fantasy of stealing his nuts. It slowly became an obsession, and I worked out the details, and I was living for the day when I would cut off his nuts and make him envy my balls, as unimpressive as they were.
My plan wasn’t very sophisticated, but from my perspective it didn’t have to be, and I put it in place shortly after the school year had ended. I knew Dakota worked at a burger joint after school, trying to earn money for college, and it didn’t take much to figure out when he worked and more importantly when he got off. I set it up for a Saturday afternoon, as his shift ended, and paid off three guys to get him tied down for me. I didn’t tell them I was gonna castrate the fuckwad, no, I didn’t tell them that. I just told them I wanted to teach him a lesson, to whip his ass with a belt, and I needed him tied down and helpless so I could do it to him. I knew the kids from a YMCA camp my parents had made me go to the previous summer, which had been attended by a few inner city kids that I had gotten to know. They thought it was funny as hell, and for $20 each they grabbed him after he left work and dragged his ass out to the edge of town, at a place we all just called “the pit.” It was next to a catfish pond, and there was a junkyard of sorts there, which included a number of worn out washers, dryers, and even a couple of old refrigerators. The place was abandoned, except on occasion a guy would take his girl there to park, or to smoke some weed. But for the most part nobody went there, and I knew on a Saturday afternoon it would almost certainly be unattended.
After they had kidnapped him, they drove back into town and gave me a call, and I left immediately and drove right out to the spot where they had left him planning to do the deed. When I arrived they had tied the nineteen year old jock over an oven that somebody had tossed in the dump, so his two ankles were tied to the front legs and he was bent over it, his arms tied to the oven door handle on the other side. He was already naked when I got there, his big bullocks, heated by the sun, hanging down towards his knees and swinging as he struggled. To me, they were just hanging there waiting, waiting for me and the knife. I had brought my Gerber just for the purpose, and it was razor sharp and I knew his balls would be no match for the steel. I wore a stocking cap I had, with holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth, and I knew that with it on he would not be able to identify me. As I walked up to him, and he tuned and saw me, initially he started to beg me to untie him. But then he took in the mask I was wearing, and at that point he was smart enough to know that letting him go wasn’t in the plan. I saw his eyes go really wide then and that’s when he went crazy and jerked against every rope that held him.
I looked at his pile of clothes, and decided to go through his pockets. For one thing, taking his cash I figured would perhaps make the authorities think a robbery had been the main intention, but as luck would have it there was less than twenty bucks in his billfold. There was a nice picture of Linda thought, and in his right side pocket of his jeans was a lubricated rubber, and on the package it said: “Ribbed for Her Pleasure.” Right then that’s when I got the idea to fuck him. I had never fucked a guy in my entire life, never wanted to for that matter, but as I saw him bent over and his legs spread, his hole seemed to wink at me. I hadn’t fucked anything but my five-fingered friend for more than two months, ever since my girlfriend had dumped me for the jock now tied before me, and suddenly his hole looked inviting in a way I can’t really describe. I know for certain my dick went rock hard, and I figured it wouldn’t take that long and I’d enjoy nutting him a lot more after I had fucked his hole and shot my wad as I emptied my balls.
I took out the rubber, and when he saw it in my hand he went crazy then, and was jerking and straining so hard every muscle in his perfect body was pulling against the ropes that were spreading him wide and forcing him to open his hole as if he was begging for it. He started screaming for help, and I knew right then it was well past time to shut him up.
I picked up one of his socks, which was in the pile next to his jeans, and stuffed it into his mouth, and then took some duck tape I had brought and finished the gag. While I didn’t mind him grunting, and I actually enjoyed listening to him, I just didn’t’ seem to think that letting him yell out was all that good of an idea, even though I knew that nobody was around that could hear him. Still, once he was gagged, I was a lot happier. After I had him so he couldn’t yell, that’s when I pulled down my own pants to my knees, and then rolled the ribbed condom over my rock hard dick that was jutting up at the sky. I didn’t really need the condom, but I didn’t think it was too wise to leave a load of sperm in his ass that some enterprising police office might trace to me. Anyway, as soon as I had rolled the rubber on my dick, I moved up against him and prepared to mount him like a whore.
He went even more ballistic, and started thrashing back and forth, and I could see his powerful thighs tense up as he struggled to pinch close his hole and to protect the entrance to his bowels. The condom was lubed, but even so I spit on my latex covered dick to add some more, and then I pushed my dick up against his hole, and then, as I felt the lips of his ass accommodate the head of my teenage dick, I pushed forward and leaned into him. With a slight bit of pressure, I went all the way in then, with a single thrust, until my erection was buried to the hilt and my small bag of nuts were up against his ass.
He tossed his head back and grunted in shame, and that’s when I smiled and started to fuck him. Each thrust slammed into his prostate, and that made him grunt, and the ribbed condom really stimulated his hole and I could tell he didn’t like it. I hadn’t said anything to him, nothing at all, and he had no idea who was fucking him, or even why. Still, I fucked him, and I savored every single second I was pounding his hole. He grunted and struggled and jerked and tried to twist, but no matter what he did it made no difference. I loved feeling his struggles, and that only made me increase my thrusting, and soon I was slamming my cock in and out of his ass, and I wanted to laugh as he took it like a woman. His hole was tight, very tight, and his body temperature warmed my pole almost exactly like a woman’s pussy. He was a hot fuck, yes he was, and I fucked him like he was my girlfriend, fast and deep, and soon my balls were churning and I knew I was going to shoot my wad.
I would have loved to fuck him for a long time, but I didn’t want to put off his castration any longer than necessary, and I wasn’t trying to make him feel good either. That said, I did slow down though, just before I shot, long enough to take out my Gerber so he could see what I was gonna use to nut him. I laid the open knife right on top of the oven he was tied over, so he could see it there. As he took in the knife, and the razor sharp blade, I started to thrust my cock deep into him again, slamming into him hard enough to rock the oven he was tied to. He was grunting again, right away, and so was I, and then as my balls started to churn again and I prepared to shoot my wad, I whispered into his ear, working hard to disguise my voice as I did so.
As he stared at my knife I said: “You feel my cock? I’m gonna fill you with my sperm, and then I’m gonna use the knife and castrate you. Get ready, cause you can kiss your big balls goodbye. Here comes my wad, right NOW!”
As I said those words I was probably less than a second from ejaculating, and that’s when the oven door came off.
I never saw it coming. One second I was fucking him and about to cum, and he was struggling and grunting as my cock slammed in and out of his hole, and the next he had literally jerked the old oven door completely off of its frame, tearing out the rusted hinges with the power of his desperation. I suppose that the combination of fear of being castrated, along with the humiliation of being fucked, just joined together to give him the strength necessary to tear that oven door off of those hinges.
What I know for certain was that he jerked that oven door straight up, over his head, and since his wrists were still tied to its handle it was almost like it was an extension of his arms. He tossed the big thing right over his head, and it came down and slammed right into the back of my head, hitting me so hard I almost passed out. I staggered, and fell back and as I did my cock popped out of him, and I landed on my ass on the ground. I had no idea what really had happened. I started to get up, and was up on one knee and about to stand when he swung his torso, slamming the entire oven door sideways this time, so that the big steel door struck me right across the left cheek. There was this blinding pain that shot through my jaw, and I hit the ground, hard, the entire sky spinning as I crumpled from the intensity of the blow.
I do not know exactly what happened next, not precisely anyway, but I remember everything was blurred. He managed to get to the knife that was still laying where I had laid it out, right in front of him, and soon he had cut himself free from the ropes that had tied him. I know I saw him doing that, from a somewhat dazed point of view, and I know that I rolled over on my stomach and tried to crawl away from him. I was bleeding out of my mouth, and I noticed when I spit that a couple of teeth had been knocked out of me. The left side of my face was numb, and it was pretty clear that the oven door had done a number on my face. I was desperate to get away, but he picked up that oven door one more time then and slammed it into me, hitting me with it flat on my back right about where my shoulders were. I crumpled like a rag doll then. Still, I never passed out, but I sure as hell was stunned, and as far as being able to fight him that was never in the cards. From the first hit of the oven door, I was at his mercy.
He jumped on my back then, and pulled my two wrists back, behind me, and then he tied them together, so damn tight I thought he was gonna cut the circulation off. Then, after he had done that, he rolled me over, so I was on my back and looking right up at the sky. My jeans and underpants were still at my knees, where I had pulled them down to fuck him, and my cock was still covered with his condom, although my erection had for the most part disappeared at that point. He sat right on top of me, on my thighs, straddling me, and that’s when he ripped off his gag and spit out the socks I had forced in his mouth. Then, he reached down and pulled my hooded stocking cap off of my face.
As he took in who I was he said “FUCK! FUCK ME! YOU! OH FUCK MAN, YOU ARE DEAD MEAT! DEAD! YOU HERE ME! YOU ARE A FUCKING DEAD MAN TANNER! YOU FUCKED ME! YOU FUCKED ME! GOD DAMN! YOU WERE GONNA CASTRATE ME TOO!!! OH MAN…TANNER, FUCK. FUCK YOU! WELL TANNER—ILL TELL YOU ONE THING. YOUR FUCKING BALLS ARE HISTORY! HISTORY!”
I tried to beg him, to tell him I was sorry, but my mouth wasn’t working and as it turned out later my jaw had been broken. I could taste the blood in my mouth, and as I stared at him and he looked at me he suddenly jerked my pants down, and off, and then he pulled my legs apart and lifted me up, by my thighs, so that he was under me, he on his knees and my legs straddling him. I looked down and saw his cock then, and it was up and eager and juttig. A few seconds later I felt it, as he pulled me down onto it. I tried to beg, and tired to move, but the reality was there wasn’t much I could do and I was still in so much shock from getting hit with that oven door that I was definitely not at my best form. The next thing I knew his dick was in me. I had never seen him with a boner before, and his cock was big, really big, and I did not think it was possible to slide his massive erection it into me. But I was wrong. But when he shoved his fat cock into my hole it literally brought tears to my eyes and I felt like it was splitting open my hole. Fuck it hurt! No! Suddenly, the roles had been reversed, and the fuckee was now the fucker, and I was the whore! NO!
There was nothing I could do at that point, nothing at all, but grunt and stare into his eyes as he fucked me. We faced each other, and I felt him impaling me, ramming his huge cock in and out of my ultra tight virgin hole with a vengeance. He used no lube at all, and it hurt like hell, but even so after a while I felt this strange feeling, the way his cock was ramming into my prostate, and my dick went rock hard and was soon jutting, even as he slammed his own cock in and out of my hole. When I got hard he reached down to my dick and pulled off the rubber, so my cock was jutting up at the sky, the big purple end of it round and full, the single eye dripping with precum. My hands were tied tight beneath me, and all I could do was stare at him and my stiff cock as he fucked me like a girl. At some point as hard as it is to believe my nuts started to churn, and I don’t know why, and then a few minutes later I started to shoot my cream and it all came out in white ropes of sperm, squirting in lines up my stomach and onto my flat chest. The first shot of my sperm hit my chin. I came and came and came, and in hindsight it was probably the biggest load of my life. All total, I think I shot about 5 lines of cream, emptying my balls as his cock forced it from me. At some point while I was cumming he too ejaculated, his entire wad of hot seed jetting into my hole, splashing up against my prostate and filling me with his load of seed. I could feel his hot load shooting into me, and it was my worst nightmare, and as I lived through the feeling it was so humiliating it cannot be described.
It was then, after he had cum, and my own wad was splashed on my stomach, that he reached up with my knife in his right hand, and grabbed my balls with his left. He was still rock hard, still imbedded in my hole, and he had a grin on his face then like a schoolboy. I managed to get out a “NO!” as he laid the steel blade up against my own small scrotum, and then for a second he hesitated, and time seemed to stand still. Then, he laughed, and I tried to beg him, but I couldn’t really talk and it didn’t matter anyway. He jerked outward with his left hand, pulling my nuts out from my body and stretching them. At the same time he started to move his right wrist then, moving my knife back and forth, and as he did this tremendous pain shot through my groin and after that for the next few seconds I just lived through my own castration. He sawed my balls off with my own knife, and as it was being done I felt so weak, so humiliated, so ‘bested’ and so beaten it cannot be described. He unmanned me, literally, and it was clear when I had been done and it was over that I was nothing compared to him. The truth at that point was that he owned my girl, and my balls.
As soon as he had nutted me, he laughed, and then he started to thrust his cock in and out of my hole all over again, fucking me with a renewed intensity, almost as if the act of castrating me had reinvigorated him. He was rock hard, and his big rod impaled me, and I cold feel the head of his cock sliding in and out of my hole, each thrust deep and made with a vengeance. He was into it, really enjoying fucking me, and I could see the way he looked at me that he owned me. What was even more surprising I think was that he ejaculated all over again in less that a couple of minutes. The message was clear. He was a real man, a stud, and I was a nothing. Almost to emphasize that point, my own cock shriveled to a worm as he fucked me, and by the time he shot his wad and squirted his seed into me my own pole was small and unimpressive. Limp and nut-less, I felt his DNA shooting into me one more time, and at that point I was beaten and there was nothing left to fight for. As soon as he had squirted his second load of cream and deposited it deep within my ass, he picked up my severed balls and held them right up to my face, making sure I could see what I no longer owned.
That’s when he said: “Pretty small set of balls if you asked me. Well, too bad for you Tanner. You don’t deserve them. I know it. Linda knows it. And so do you.“
Then, with a toss, he threw them over the bank, so that they landed in the catfish pond. I heard them splash, and there was no doubt that my nuts were fish food at that point. That’s when he leaned down to me, his big cock still buried inside of me, and then he said: “You kidnapped me, tied me up, fucked me, and tried to castrate me. Just remember, the police can’t give you your balls back, no matter what. But if you tell the police who did this to you, everyone’s gonna know everything. I swear. Including what Linda has told me about your antics, and those houses you broke into earlier in the summer. So, I suggest you just live with it. You know what you did, and unfortunately for you, it didn’t quite go the way you had planned. Now, you better deal with it—you only have yourself to blame for getting yourself castrated.”
Then he pulled his still hard cock out with a slurping sound, and laughed. He slid on his underpants, and stuffed his big rod inside, and then pulled on his jeans after that. After he put on his shirt he rolled me over and cut the ropes off of my wrists, and then he slid his middle finger up my hole one last time. As he did he said: “Your hole was tight. Almost as tight as a virgin pussy. And one more thing. If you get horny and need a fuck, bring your hole over anytime and I’ll fuck it raw. You’re nothing but a bitch now, so get used to it.”
I wanted to cry. He pulled his finger out with a pop, and then he pocketed my Gerber, as a souvenir I suppose, and then he left me. A few minutes later I heard my truck start up, and after that he was gone. I was in pretty bad shape, but got to the highway and eventually a guy stopped and picked me up and I caught a ride home, and then from there I went to the hospital. My truck was already there, almost as if he knew I’d be going there. Still, for some reason, I didn’t feel like driving it for a while anyway.
Of the things he had said, he was right of course, and so I had to stick to the story that I had no idea who had nutted me. The doctors fixed my jaw, but they couldn’t do much to fix my missing scrotum, and while they could stitch up the cut they didn’t have a magic set of nuts to replace what I had lost. I thought about my options, and in the end I didn’t tell them I had been raped, or what had happened, or what I knew. Consequently, they never took any DNA swaps from my ass, and since I didn’t tell them all that much they didn’t look very hard for who had attacked me. They knew I knew more than I was telling them, but with my prior record and EMO look, I don’t think they really cared.
"There’s my dad’s car," I said to Randy as we waited outside the school next Friday afternoon.
"Oh God, I’m so nervous!" he gasped. "Especially after that story you told me about what you guys did last week! I don’t think I’m ready to eat anyone’s shit just yet!"
"I can’t guarantee they’ll be easy on you, but just keep in mind that whatever they make you do, I’ve had to do for them already."
My dad pulled up to the curb and Randy and I got in the back seat. "Hi Dad," I said. "This is my friend Randy. The one I told you about. We met in the boys’ restroom."
"You like hanging around restrooms like my son, Randy?"
"Yes, sir. Jaden and I drink from the urinals at school together sometimes!" Randy exclaimed, eager to make a good impression on my father.
"That’s good, because we don’t have a place for you to sleep. You don’t mind sleeping on the cold tile floor in our bathroom, right near the toilet, do you?"
"Not at all."
As we got onto the highway, I began to strip naked, starting with my shoes and socks. Randy started to follow my lead and strip, too. Then my dad stopped me.
"Not yet, Jaden. I need you to run into the convenience store and pick up some cigarettes for Adam.
I knew what this meant. I’d have to suck off the teenage guy behind the counter again before he’d sell the cigarettes to me. Not that I minded. I loved it when I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth behind the counter. He’d be selling lottery tickets and Twinkies to customers, and none of them had any idea that I was under the counter going down on him at the same time.
I remained dressed while Randy slowly continued to strip down in the back seat next to me. It thrilled me to see someone else do what I had been doing for my dad and brother for several years now.
We pulled into the convenience store. Dad gave me the money. Just as I was reaching for the car door, he grabbed me by the arm. "Hold on a second, Jaden."
He took out a felt-tip marker and took the cap off of it. With one hand holding my chin, he proceeded to write something on my forehead. "There," he said. "Now you can go in."
I had no idea what Dad had written on my face, and I decided I wasn’t going to look in the mirror until I got back in the car. I was going to let it be a surprise.
Inside the convenience store, I tried to nonchalantly meander over to the counter, hoping that none of the customers would notice me. A woman on her way out did notice me, and I could see a look of horror on her face as she read what Dad had written on my forehead. The only other person in the convenience store was a middle-aged man. He looked at me with disgust, spat and then walked past me, making a point to bump into me and shove me into a rack of Christian audio books as he stormed out.
I made my way to the counter. My favorite sweaty, pimply teenaged cashier was there, as usual. I looked forward to serving him.
"Oh, it’s you again. Back for more, I see?"
I saw him squinting as he read what was written on my forehead. "So you’re advertising now. You been walking around with that on you all day?"
"No, just now."
"Well, I know it’s definitely true."
"It must be. My dad wrote it. I don’t even know what it says."
"You sure got balls, kid!" "I’d like to lick YOUR balls," I smiled.
"You came at just the right time. I was just about to go bust a nut in the john. Hey kid, can you mind the counter for a minute? I got to take a shit before we get started."
"Sure. But promise me one thing."
"Just don’t wipe your ass. You know I want to lick you clean."
The convenience story guy smiled as I got behind the counter and he made for the rest room."
My favorite sexy, pimply, sweaty convenience store clerk took his sweet time in the rest room. He took so long that I had no choice but to help several customers. I had no idea how to use the cash register, and I’m sure I looked like an idiot when I was trying to figure it out. It gave me a tingle of pleasure each time a customer noticed what my dad had written on my forehead. I especially enjoyed the awkwardness and looks of horror it produced. I especially found myself getting hard when a good-looking guy came in and read the message on my forehead.
Then a really sexy blond skater boy came in. He leafed through some magazines before he picked up a package of Twinkies and walked up to the counter. Like all my other customers, he stared at my forehead in disbelief.
"Are you for real?" he asked.
"And nobody beat the shit out of you yet?"
"Well, is that what you want? Does it like turn you on if some guy beats the shit out of you? For havin’ somethin’ like that written on your forehead?"
"Then what are you trying to prove?"
"I dunno. That I’m not ashamed, I guess."
The skater boy seemed to believe me. "Hold on a sec," he said.
He walked over to the magazine rack and picked out four glossy teen magazines. They were the kind girls liked, filled with pinups of cute teen boy stars. He placed them on the counter. He was blushing. He looked quite embarrassed, but he gave me a shy smile.
"Jerk off material," he said, blushing.
I pointed to one of the Jonas Brothers on the cover. "He’s cute, aint he?"
The skater boy looked even more embarrassed. "He’s totally fuckin’ hot!"
I rang up the boy’s Twinkies and magazines. He paid for them and then started to leave. He hesitated at the door.
"Hey, what’s your number?" he asked, pulling out his cell phone.
I gave him my number, which he put into his phone. "Thanks," he said. "I might just give you a call sometime."
My convenience store clerk came out of the toilet and joined me behind the counter. "Okay, on your knees and start licking my ass. I’m saving toilet paper by using you instead."
"Thank you so much!"
I undid his belt and slid his pants down, revealing his muscular, pimply butt. I could smell the fresh shit already. I spread his ass cheeks and inspected the brown streaks around his butt crack. I decided to slowly lick from the outside in, starting at the cheek and ending up with my tongue in his puckered hole. I spent a good five minutes using my tongue to dig the shit out of every crease, ridge and pucker of his anus, and wiggled my tongue around his hole a bit for good measure. I wrapped my lips around the pucker and sucked on it for a bit. He seemed to enjoy that, pressing my face further into his ass with his hand.
I savored the bittersweet taste of his shit on my tongue. I had to keep swallowing my shitty saliva as I licked. Eventually his hole was clean, and I turned around to suck his cock.
"Oh no you don’t," he said. "Not after you’ve been licking my ass!" He grabbed a box of condoms from the shelf behind him. "Here," he said, handing me the box. "Put the rubber on before you start working on my cock.
Dutifully, I opened the condom package, took one out and unrolled it onto his cock. It was pre-lubricated. I sniffed it. I didn’t like the rubbery, chemical smell. I had never actually used a condom before. Condoms were forbidden at Dad’s house.
I began sucking on the condom-covered cock. I didn’t like it at all. The smell and taste of the rubber made me gag. But still, I went on with it, sucking him as best as I could.
I guess he was really horny from my licking his ass. I had only just begun sucking him when he grabbed my head and started face-fucking me violently. I knew that when a guy started doing that to me the only thing I could do was relax my throat and hold on. It wasn’t pleasant to have him ride my throat like that, but I just waited patiently until I heard him moan. Then he thrust his dick as far as it would go down my throat. I felt it pulse and fill the condom with sperm.
I carefully took the condom off his cock, being sure not to spill the precious fluid. I wiped his cock head off with a napkin and then drank the contents of the condom, tossing it into the wastebasket afterwards.
Once I had done my duty, my convenience store clerk sold me the cigarettes and rudely kicked me out of the store. I joined Dad and Randy in the car.
Dad noticed that I was trying to get a look at myself in the rear-view mirror, trying to see what nasty thing he had written on my forehead. "Don’t look now, Jaden," he said. "Let it be a surprise."
As we got onto the highway, Randy and I began to undress each other in the backseat. Another fun weekend had begun.
I was showing Randy how we did laundry at my dad’s house. "The underwear and the socks are what’s important," I explained to him. "Everything else can just go right in the washing machine. But once we’ve sorted the underwear and socks, they’ve got to be pre-treated."
"My mom uses one of those stain sticks to pre-treat the laundry," Randy said.
"Okay," I said, holding a badly stained pair of white jockey-shorts up to the light, "this one’s Adam’s. He’s a size 28. Dad’s a size 34. That’s how you can tell. Looks pretty stained, huh?"
"I’m getting hard just looking at it!" Randy giggled. I could tell he desperately wanted to sniff the skid mark.
"Okay, pre-treating is simple," I continued to explain. "This is all you do," I said, taking the underwear and putting the shit-stained part of it in my mouth. I sucked the shitty skid mark for a few seconds to demonstrate.
"Oh fuck," Randy gasped, his eyes wide open. "This is how you do laundry around here?!! I’m gonna pre-treat all my brother’s undies for him when I get home!"
I handed Randy the pair that I had already been sucking on. "Here, work on these for a while. I’m gonna start sucking the sweat out of Dad’s socks."
Randy and I spent most of the morning sucking the shit and piss stains out of the pile of underwear in the laundry basket. I noticed that Randy especially liked sucking the sweat out of Adam’s dirty socks. Some of Adam’s socks were so filthy they could have stood on end. Since we were naked, we could both see how hard the laundry work was making our cocks.
Randy turned to me. "So they don’t let you jack off?" he asked.
"When I’m here, it’s my job to serve Dad and Adam. I’m not allowed to please myself in any way."
"Gosh, this must drive you nuts! Watching you blow your brother last night was too damn hot! I’m so horned up I can’t stand it! I need some release soon or I’m gonna burst! My balls hurt!"
"You get used to it."
"Say," Randy said, giving me a sneaky look, "those guys are out of the house right now. Why dontcha blow me? They’d never know."
"I dunno. It’s against the rules."
"It’s against the rules for you, but not for me," Randy insisted. "I’m just a guest. Come on, blow me why dontcha?"
"Trust me, it’s more exciting if you keep yourself horny and frustrated. On Monday we can meet up after school and you’ll be ready to explode."
"I’m ready to explode now. So is this really what you do every weekend? You’re like their slave!"
"Well, every other weekend."
"But I mean, this is the routine, right?"
"Yeah, I take off my clothes in the car. No clothes, no shower, no brushing my teeth, no leaving the house. Only eating from my dog bowl and only drinking from the toilet bowl."
"Serving their every whim."
"Yeah. Cleaning up after them, cooking for them. All that stuff."
"Dude, I’m so horny right now. If you don’t blow me I’m gonna jack myself off."
"Don’t. They might come in any minute and catch you."
"Well, how long are they gonna be gone for? And where did they go?" "They never tell me. They always keep me guessing."
"This is torture!"
"I know. They are pretty good with their dirty tricks. Like hiding all the mirrors in the house so I still have no idea what Dad wrote on my forehead. I was in that convenience store the whole time not knowing what it said, but it must have been something pretty nasty because it sure freaked people out!"
"If you blow me, I’ll tell you what it says,"
"Nah. I’ll find out when they want me to find out."
I picked up another pair of underwear and began to lick at the skid mark. Randy began working on another pair of socks. We were both on the floor, on our knees in front of the laundry basket. I put the underwear on top of the pile of laundry and buried my face in it. Then I smelled the sweaty armpit of one of Adam’s t-shirts, and I buried my nose in the t-shirt, enjoying the heavenly scent. As I did so, I turned so that my butt was facing Randy. I leaned forward into the laundry basket so that my ass was up a little. I knew that Randy was in the perfect position to view my exposed but thole.
It didn’t take long before Randy dropped the socks and made his way to my butt, cautiously sniffing and then licking my hole. I was starting to get hard again as I felt his tongue slide in and out like a piston. I continued to sniff and suck at the dirty items in the laundry basket while I let Randy get his pleasure from licking and sucking my ass. I could hear him jacking himself off and when I could tell he was about to cum I pulled my ass away from his face.
"Dammit, Jaden! I was just about to shoot!"
"I know! That’s why I stopped you."
"Save your tongue for the laundry. And besides, your mouth is going to get a workout when Dad and Adam get home."
"Now I’m thirsty."
"You know where the toilet is. Go get yourself a drink."
When Dad and Adam got home, they decided to put Randy on toilet paper duty. Since he had to sleep in the bathroom anyway, Randy’s job was to spend most of the weekend in the bathroom sitting on the little rug in front of the toilet. Only I was privileged to suck cock and drink cum. But Randy couldn’t really complain. Randy had to wait and wait until someone had to take a shit, and then he got to lick their but tholes clean for them. And he had plenty of piss to drink. I’ll have to admit that Randy was a good ass kicker, as he cleaned mine a number of times that weekend.
Since we couldn’t bathe, shower or brush our teeth for the whole weekend, Randy and I had started to stink pretty badly. Randy’s breath wasn’t the greatest, especially since his tongue had been on toilet paper duty. My own face and ass were smeared with dried cum and piss, as Dad and Adam had used me at both ends several times that weekend. But we did have to scrub ourselves up before Dad brought me to my mom’s house and Randy to his parents’ house. So the two of us took a bath together, taking plenty of time to finger each other’s but tholes and soap each other’s hard-on’s up, stopping right when we were about to cum. Neither of us had had an orgasm the whole weekend, and we couldn’t wait until Monday after school when we would meet each other in the woods and finally get our release.
While we were in the middle of our bath, Adam came into the bathroom with a little hand mirror.
"I thought you might like to see what Dad wrote on your face before you wash it off," he said, handing the mirror to me.
I finally held the mirror up to my face and saw what Dad had written on my forehead — what I had been walking around with for the whole weekend!
Other Parts of the Urinal Boy Series: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Originally posted on https://statdig.com
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.
“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.
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.