Ayzintion City - The Three Prisoners

I never liked the prisoners. It just wasn’t what I preferred, all things being considered. The slaves I understood well enough, as the slave yards and the buyers and the sellers and the cuttings are as much a part of this city as any part can be. But the prisoners are another story, and while they no doubt deserve the fate that is bestowed upon them I never relished in their cutting. Perhaps it is because they weren’t born to it, or perhaps it is because the buyers aren’t interested. I don’t know really. I think part of it has to do with the crowds. When the crowds gather to watch a slave being cut there is a sadness even in their glee, almost as if they can appreciate the misery that the slave’s life will become. I think there is an empathy with them. Yes, perhaps they feel it with them or at least imagine the knife as it makes the cut, or perhaps it is just the knowledge that slaves are slaves and whether they keep their balls or not is always dependent on the whim of their owners. It has always been that way too. Who knows, perhaps it will always be that way. But the prisoners are different. First, the crowds are eager to see them punished, and with each slice of the knife the crowd always roars with approval. With every grunt from the prisoner and every scream and every yell the crowd feeds upon their misery. No, the cuttings of the prisoners are different. They are usually free men that have gone wrong, and more than not they have been with women before they are brought, screaming, to the tables for their punishment. They always know what they are losing, and because they were free men they fear the loss perhaps more than a slave who knows it’s his destiny and who has been raised to understand it and perhaps, at least for some, to accept it. And of course, the actual cuttings are different too. The prisoners know that and if they don’t someone usually tells them long before they are dragged to the table. For a slave, the idea is to cut them fast; to make it so quick they hardly feel the knife, so that their unmanning hurts them as little as possible and they will heal fast for their master. Not so with the prisoners. When they are cut it is usually slowly, and more importantly, painfully; and the sharpness of the knife is much less important than it is for a slave. In fact, the more they suffer and the more they yell the better is their example and the better they will deter others. Perhaps that is the reason I hate cutting them so much.

The gang of three before me were the worst of the lot. These young men had been assaulting young women across the city, robbing them of whatever possessions they wanted and then stealing their virginity, raping them repeatedly like animals until they were satisfied. Most of the victims had been in their teens, but one girl was only twelve when they had come upon her. They had actually been involved in a series of seven such crimes, before they were finally recognized when the mask of the leader had slipped and the woman they were fucking had known the face of the boy inside her. She had been smart enough not to reveal her recognition and brave enough to come forward and to identify him later, and after that there had been a long and difficult chase. When the three were finally cornered the leader of the group had killed one of the council guardsman who had been trying to capture him. It was an ugly scene, and after their apprehension many had called for the execution of the prisoners. Their actual trial had been fairly quick, and their guilt had never really been the issue. They had talked and pointed fingers and blabbed out their confessions as they had desperately pointed blame at each other and individually begged for leniency. The youngest boy had gotten the lightest sentence, and he would be done first. He had not actually raped any of the women, but he had helped hold all of them down, and in the end it was enough to doom his manhood. He was to lose his balls and then spend a year in the prison yard, working the slop and cleaning out the latrines and the septic trenches. After that he was to be released, and then banished to the eastern province. While his final fate was uncertain, his life was not without hope and after his year in prison he might well take a trade and live his ball-less life with at least some meaning. One thing that was a certainty was that with his balls gone he would not be interested in women and it would be unlikely he would ever bed one himself. I looked at him. He was a lad of sixteen, and his body was sprouting its way into manhood and his muscles were already hard and firm. It was almost a pity, as he was a handsome youth, a kid with potential who might have been something else had he aligned himself with a different crowd. Now all that would change for him, all in an instant as my knife did its work. I noted that he would be easy, as his balls were hanging loose and tender, and I knew just by looking that he would not be difficult and they would come off easily.

Next to the table, where the youth was strapped spread-eagled and waiting, were two heavy wooden T-posts, designed to hold a slave or a prisoner with his arms spread wide, standing up while he waited for his turn to come. They were mounted vertically and were placed close to the table so that the waiting prisoners could watch the other cuttings on the table before them. I liked the T-posts, as it was good to make the prisoners watch what was to happen to them when it was their turn. It made their fear more intense, and the crowd loved to watch their expressions as they in turn watched the action taking place on the table. The other two prisoners were tied to them already, waiting for it to be done to them, their arms spread wide apart and each wrist secured to a ring at the end of the T. There feet were tied together and attached to a third ring at the bottom of the support beam. They had been stripped of their clothing and were facing the table, and the crowd was seated in the bleachers that slanted off at an angle. The prisoner on the right was a huge man, and I had been told he was in his twenty-first year. He was the oldest, and yet he wasn’t the leader. Still, he was about as bad as they come, and his fate was well deserved. He too would lose his balls. He would also spend the next ten years of his life in prison before he would be banished with the younger lad to the eastern province. Because of his crime and his age the court had not been as lenient with him, and so to make sure he never raped anyone again and to serve as an example for others he had also been sentenced to lose his prick, and that worried me. A castration is easy, at least when it is compared with the cutting of a cock. When you cut into a man’s cock, you cut into his soul, and when you do that the blood comes with a vengeance, and if you do it wrong you kill the man when you take his hose. Even after you cut them and stop the bleeding, if their stub fills with blood from some misplaced urge you can lose them later just the same. I hated cutting a cock. One thing was certain. He would never fuck anything again, not as long as he lived. As I looked at him his cock was already stuck out, hard and eager. Perhaps it was the boy he was looking at, strapped down and spread out wide and just waiting for his cutting. Perhaps it was the thought of the attention his own balls and cock were waiting for. Whatever the reason, he was stiff and hard and his cock was jutting up and out, bobbing to his heartbeat and looking eager to be amputated. You could see the fear in his eyes, and you could sense he knew it would not be easy in the way he stared and pulled against his bonds. I was not looking forward to cutting him, and I knew that it would be difficult. He was a powerful man, and yet as I gazed upon his heavy balls and his hard cock I could visualize his hips pushing his shaft into the pussy of the virgin girls, his giant balls swinging below as he had fucked the women and pumped out his seed. Yes, they deserved to be taken, and while I was afraid of the cutting I was nevertheless glad to do it.

The third prisoner was the one I felt the most for. He was the worst of the offenders, and yet his punishment seemed almost inhuman even to me. Granted, he was the leader of the three, and had already been in trouble with the council several times before. I had known him as a young boy, and I could remember how he had stolen things from the blacksmith not so many years ago. Now, tied up and waiting for his fate, he was a lot less arrogant than when I had last seen him and as he waited for his undoing I could see the fear in his eyes. Because I had know the boy in his youth, and had seen him in trouble on many occasions I knew without question he deserved his fate. Still, he was young and handsome, and it’s a shame to cut a boy that is built to perfection. He was at that magic age between a teenager and a man. He was nineteen, and he had the body that any man would dream to have. His thighs were strong and powerful, and his flat stomach had muscles that literally ripped across in horizontal lines. His eyes were green and penetrating, and his huge balls were hanging down from the heat in the room. Above them, jutting out of his pubic mound was a massive prick, and it was already hard and ready, excited even to be on display, and as I gazed upon it it struck me that it appeared to be almost eager for its own taking. His chest was smooth, and except for the hair around his prick and the tuffs under his arms he was almost smooth, like a much younger teen would be. Still, it was this boy I feared cutting the most because everyone was anxious for it to be done and my every action would be scrutinized. He had many enemies. He had beaten up a lot of kids in his earlier years, and was always in trouble for something, so it wasn’t that I had sympathy for him. Still, I had known him and knew of his father and I knew he would be a difficult one to do. But, his days of causing havoc were over and I was glad to be able to be the one to stop it.

Because he was the leader, and because he had killed a man during his capture, he normally would have faced a hanging right after the knife had removed his manhood. However, the court had spared his life because of his age. Instead, he had been sentenced to a life of misery without any chance of reprieve. He would never leave the prison. But I think killing him would have been more humane. He had been sentenced to have his prick removed “completely” as they had put it. Worse, by far, was that the court had directed that his balls be left intact. Some thought he had gotten off lightly because he was allowed to keep his balls. To me, I knew the result and I knew why it had been dictated. It was a fate worse than death. Even though I had seen it done before and had done it once to another prisoner a long time ago, I still shivered at the thought of what awaited him. For a man, especially a young man in the prime of his youth, to have his balls left hanging and his prick taken was to sentence him to a life that seemed almost too cruel to comprehend. He would never leave the prison yard, not as long as he lived. Instead, he would serve as a prison whore, to be bent over and used as the guards decided whenever they wished to reward another prisoner with a hole to fuck. For this boy, there would never been any relief, just a constant pent up need that would increase on a daily basis, slowly filling his mind until thoughts of sex were all he could comprehend. He would seek relief, beg for it, cry for it, and go mad dreaming about it. He would certainly rub his empty crotch against the stone floor of his cell until it bled and the skin came off in his wild desperation as he sought that which could never be achieved. He would willingly come to open his ass in hopes of finding relief from within him, but while it would bring him close the satisfaction would never be completed and the frustration would grow and grow and grow. No, if he lived through the procedure, his life would become a living hell and his bulging balls would seek his missing cock for the rest of his life. I looked at him. He knew his sentence, but had no real idea what really awaited him or how terrible it really was going to be. He would never be freed, and even later when he begged to be castrated it would not happen. He would scratch and pull on his balls and rub his crotch hour after hour, shoving whatever he could find up his ass in a desperate need to relieve the sexual desire flooding from his balls. Eventually, sleep would become impossible, and the pent up lust would consume him. They would laugh at him then, and even though he would beg for a castration it would never be done. Instead, he would be filled with desire, never able to find relief and never able to have another orgasm. No, not as long as he lived. But he would dream about it and feel for it and need it more and more and more. No, if he lived, and that was anything but certain at this point, he would die a little each day as his balls filled with cream and his unfulfilled desire slowly drove him mad. As it happened, his asshole would grow ever larger from the abuse it would receive as he sought the needed orgasm which would forever remain beyond his reach.

I glanced to the crowd. I estimated there were a hundred people there. Most were men, although there were a few women scattered in there among them. The first two rows were full of boys, and most were young kids from eleven up through about fifteen or sixteen. It was obvious that their parents had brought them here and wanted them to see the fate of these three criminals, and perhaps there was some deterrent value in watching the unmanning of another. Still, as I gazed upon the teenagers their faces were eager with anticipation, and more than a few of their trousers were bulging with their excitement. I never understood completely why a boy will grow hard watching another lose his balls, but I’ve seen it long enough now to know that it is not uncommon. I also knew that by the time I was through at least a few of the young men watching would have filled their pants with their seed.

It was time. I walked up to the struggling sixteen year old, and as I approached I saw his eyes go wide with fear. I nodded at one of the slaves that was standing to the side, and with my nod he took the rag and shoved it in the youth’s mouth, quieting him. I know that some cutters allow the prisoners to scream as they are cut, but it can be unnerving and I’ve never taken to it. Gagging the boy seemed better to me, and it is just the way that I do it and I doubt that will change. I was standing between his legs, looking down at his genitals and staring at the balls I was about to take. They were big for his age, and I hefted them, feeling them. The orbs inside were soft, and I moved my fingers over them, feeling the delicate tissue and finding the cords within. The youth was thrusting his hips as I did so, almost fucking the air as if he was desperate to do it one last time. I wondered how long it had been, and as I felt his balls I noted that his prick was stiffening, stretching out for the crowd and it did not go unnoticed. He had been circumcised at some point in his past, and the big end of his dick was purple and flared, and its single eye was oozing the fluid of his youth. I let my hand go to it...to feel it and as I did so it stiffened further in my hand. I slid my thumb up over the tip, sliding it over the end until it was coated with his goo, which I then rubbed liberally over the end of his prick. I moved it in circles, around and around the head of his glans, then up under it and then back over it, crossing the tip again and again and again. He moaned into his gag as I did it, his prick now so hard that the crowd was going crazy with the sight. I glanced to the front row, and I could see that most of the teenagers watching were hard in their pants, their bulging cocks pushing up in their trousers and almost begging for relief. One blond haired youth was gently rubbing himself, probably unaware of what he was doing even as he allowed his fingers to work the tip of his prick through the fabric of his pants. As I was staring at it I saw a small drop of fluid soak its way through the material.

I looked down at the youth before me, and could see his eyes begging me even though he knew it was hopeless. His arms were straining against his bonds, and his thigh muscles were pulling hard trying to draw his legs together. I took a leather cord that was resting over my wrist, and let the loop encircle his hanging nuts. Bringing it up tight against his body, I then spoke to him before I snapped it closed.

“Boy, you picked the wrong crowd to hang with and for that you are to be nutted. As you lose your balls I hope you realize you don’t deserve them.”

With that, I snapped the leather closed, and as I did so he bucked his hips one more time and then grunted, his eyes going wide with the shock. Suddenly, without any warning he spurted. I don’t know why they do that, but most of them do and I’ve come to except it. It really doesn’t matter if they do or they don’t, but the crowd always enjoys it more if they do and so I do what I can to encourage them. As he was shooting, I took his prick in my fist and ran the thumb back over the tip, feeling his fluid pumping out and rubbing the end of his dick as it was happening. He was wild with lust then, and he closed his eyes as he ejaculated and I watched as his balls quivered and his cock pulsated. Finally, his belly was awash with the cream from his balls and I knew it was time even as his prick was still oozing out the last of his seed. I took the knife, and brought it up under his balls, below the tie and I rested it there, hesitating as his chest heaved up and down. I am not a man without mercy. I gave his last orgasm time to subside. As I waited, I savored the moment. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I pulled the knife into him, and he grunted and then he screamed into the gag as the knife penetrated above his sac. He was wild then, thrusting and jerking his hips, all the while I let the knife do its own work. I could feel the resistance of his cords, feel them as they individually separated, and finally with a final jerk I pulled the knife all the way through and his bloody balls came off in my hand. As they did so he grunted again, and made a final wild thrusting of his hips, fucking the air with his lonely cock, which was still oozing fluid out from its tip. I showed him his balls then, held them up to his face, and as he looked at them he almost vomited into the gag. His eyes were wide, the pain obvious in his face, and as I looked back to the crowd I held his balls up then so they could all see. I locked eyes with the youth who had been playing with his prick earlier. As he saw the balls in my hand his eyes glassed over, and as they did so I noted the cream flooding into his pants, his entire body convulsing even as he tried to conceal it with his hand. As he shot his wad I smiled, the pleasure of the youth in sharp contrast to the boy still spread out below me, now crying from the pain and the misery of what he had lost. The youth who was pumping his wad into his pants saw me staring at him, and as our eyes locked his faced flushed scarlet from his embarrassment.

I then nodded to the slaves, and turned my back and went to the table to wash the blood from my hands. The slaves pulled down the youth, and I knew then that they would cauterize the small wound where the skin was knotted and his sac had been. I had trained them to do that, and they were good at it now. He would be taken to a cell in the prison to heal, and after he had healed he would begin his year of labor in the septic pits. I would never see him again. As I finished washing my hands, and the knife, I thought of sharpening it but decided against it. I also took the flat blade of the bigger knife, and pushed it deep into the pot of hot coals that was there for the purpose.

They were dragging down the big prisoner now, and the twenty-one year old was fighting hard, determined to do whatever it took to keep from being lashed to the table. He had watched the castration of the teenager, and was now desperate to keep the inevitable from happening to him. I do not know why they struggle so, as in the end it makes no difference, but it adds a lot for the pleasure of the crowd and so I do not discourage it as much as one would think. This one was fighting especially hard, and even with six slaves fighting him it was not easy to get him to the table. They finally got one hand tied down, and then the other, and after that his legs went easier and finally, it was done. He continued to struggle and jerk against the leather that tied him, and I could see him pulling in on his thighs trying to close his legs from the crowd and the knife that would come. I noted his leg hair, and the thick bush above his prick. He had a tremendous package, and yet when I thought of the virgins he had taken I was not concerned that it would be lost to him. However, the cock was huge and flared, and as it grew ever thicker and eager, I knew that the pressure inside would make it difficult to seal. The foreskin was retracted off the head of his prick now, and the end bulged with desire and he looked as if he was eager for it to be done. I went to him then, standing between his legs, and as I did so he went wild. His right arm popped free, and as I glanced at the slave that had tied him I saw his fear as he grabbed the arm and tied him down again. The prisoner was begging me, calling out for mercy, and as he did so I nodded and they gagged off his cries with a rag. It was then that I touched his balls. God he hated that! He was going totally crazy then, and while I knew I could just wait for him to tire, I also knew that the crowd liked his struggles and he did not deserve to keep his balls any longer than necessary. The prick was going to be a challenge, and it was so hard and full of blood that I knew this was going to be messy. The thing was massive, and was nearly ten inches in length. Still, the sentence was clear, and it was time to carry it out.

I took the leather in my hand and looped his balls, and as before, I hesitated and I waited for the crowd to grow silent. Then I looked him in the eyes, and said: “Your balls and cock were the tools you used to rape our virgin girls. It is time for you to lose THEM.” As I formed the last word I snapped the leather closed, and he bucked his hips and grunted into his gag and his eyes popped wide from the pain and the fear. His balls were now bulging in their sack, the skin so tight the individual testicles could be seen pushing outward and almost begging to be taken. He was bucking his hips, fucking the air like the boy had done before him, his prick bouncing as he did so and the tip bulging purple with desire. I decided to take his prick first, partly to get it out of the way and partly because I was scared to cut it and needed to get it done before I lost my nerve. I looked to the crowd, and there was a teenage girl there and I decided to use her to help me. I ask her and she jumped up with excitement instantly, and as she came forward the crowd was almost giddy with anticipation and there was lots of applause. I had her hold his cock, and explained to her what I needed from her. She was more than happy to help. Then, I reached down into the pot of coals, and pulled the flat cock knife out, its wide flat blade glowing white hot and the metal almost soft if you were to touch it. As I did so he looked down and saw it, and his hips thrusted up and down with a wild desperation. I brought the steel up then, under his shaft, and as I did so I decided to leave him a stub, a little knob to piss with and an inch of flesh to remind himself of what he once had there. I knew leaving the stub would make it easier for me as well, and the outcome was more certain than if I tried to take it all. It was time. I then asked her to pump him. I know it might seem that giving him a final act of pleasure would be wrong, especially considering the nature of his crime and the need to get it done. But when you take a man’s prick its important that you not seal his piss tube, and it’s also important that the remains of his prick do not get engorged with blood after the seal has been made. Consequently, if you can make the slice as ejaculated fluid is moving through the cock the tube will remain open and the cock stub will collapse after it is cauterized and the orgasm is done. If the hot blade does seal the tube by accident, the fact that it was wet on that spot when the knife touched it means it will reopen when the pressure from the bladder is great enough. Consequently, it is the secret to success and many cutters fail because they do not know it.

As the girl began to pump the man’s shaft, the crowd was roaring their approval. The man sensed it too, knowing what was at stake, and yet powerless to stop his own desire, even knowing that it was his own undoing. He obviously liked the touch of a woman, and his cock was oozing fluid almost as soon as she started the strokes. His prick was swelling even harder as she gripped it. As she pumped him up and down, I brought the hot knife up under his prick which had reached a tremendously massive erection. His shaft was so stiff and so big that it gave the appearance it was almost the prick of an animal. I have never seen a harder prick, or a bigger one. This one was just begging to be taken. As I held the knife, I just waited for the girl’s hand to do the work. With each stroke of her hand on his cock he grunted, and the crowd was so eager that everywhere you looked there was nothing but smiles to be seen. As the feeling built steadily in his balls his eyes began to glass over, and his mouth parted even with the gag and then his eyes opened wide. Suddenly, it happened, and he then grunted into his gag and thrusted his hips upward, arching his back as he did so. As he tossed his head back I saw the first of his seed start to shoot out of his cock. When I saw that, I started the blade through the shaft, about an inch from his body. I pulled the hot blade up from underneath, where the prick is the softest, and as the blade hit the shaft it began to smoke, and the searing smell of burning flesh permeated the air. I moved the blade slowly through the meat, sawing it even, allowing it to melt its way into his flesh even as he was pumping out his jism. As the blade passed through the mid-point of his shaft the sperm stopped shooting out the tip and began to spill out the sides, and when I saw that I jerked the knife through the rest of the way which allowed his cock to come free in the girl’s hand. I looked quickly to the stub then, and there I could see the white fluid of his manhood still pumping out the little hole. Along the edges and around it the engorged tissue was still bleeding, and so I moved the knife back to the stub and pushed it into the meat in those places, being careful not to block the hole where the white fluid was still oozing out, although much slower than before as his orgasm ebbed. There was quite a bit of blood, and for a minute I thought it was going to go badly. Then, with a little more smoke, the wound finally stopped bleeding, and as it did so I noted the last of his sperm finally was just seeping from the center of the wound, the little knob of flesh all that remained where minutes before his giant prick had jutted. His severed prick had been sealed closed by the hot blade, and even though it was not attached to his body any longer it was still hard and stiff and still looking eager with desire, the end wet from the initial spurt of his cream. I held it up in front of him, and then to the crowd, and as I did so I noted that a few more of the boys in the front rows had soiled their pants with their seed.

The prisoner was going wild with the sight of his detached dick in my hand, and as he felt the pain that had replaced his pleasure he struggled wildly, still thrusting his hips and pushing his cock-less crotch into the air. He was thrusting the air almost like he was trying to fuck it, even though his cock was missing and he hand nothing to fuck with. I looked down at his scrotum then and checked the tie of leather, making sure it was tight. I decided that a second tie might be better, and so I took another leather string and looping it around his exposed nuts next to the first one, I pulled it with a snap, his big balls bulging up even tighter in his sac and looking odd without the prick to cover them. He was hardly moving now, his chest just heaving with the sobs. I took the curve of the gelding knife, and looping it around his balls and just below the one tie and above the other, I jerked it upward and into his nutsac. He reacted then, a final desperation as he struggled to save the last remains of his manhood. I jerked the knife harder, and felt it hang on the cords.

Suddenly, the other prisoner, the young man with the hard body that was strapped to his t-post and watching everything that was happening, vomited. I looked up at him, and his eyes were wide, like a madman. The fear in him was now so great he was babbling out words that were not understandable even though it was obvious he was trying desperately to beg for mercy. I looked up at him, and could see him staring down at his cock-less friend and my knife half-way through the tied balls. As he watched, I jerked harder with the knife in my hands, and as I did so the balls of his friend came free and I laughed as I took them. The crowd applauded then, and I looked at them and the applause grew thunderous. I noted the youth I had seen shoot in his pants earlier had left, probably to cover his embarrassment. I waved the balls to the crowd, and then dropped them in the bowl that had been left for that purpose. The big flat knife was still glowing red hot, and so I picked it up and touched the little knob of skin that was all that remained where the man’s balls had been. As the smoke seared it too, I noted how different he looked. There was nothing there! The small stub of flesh that had once formed his cock was pulsating, and I could see the burned end throbbing to his heartbeat, the tiny little hole that was his piss hole round and protruding slightly. His life as a man was over, and he would never fuck anything again for as long as he lived. I knew he deserved it, but still looking at the smoothness of what was only minutes before the crotch of a man, the enormity of what I had done to him was still a powerful sight I would never forget.

I turned from him then and went to wash my hands for the second time. As I was doing that, they had dragged the prisoner off the table, his struggles now gone from him with the taking of his manhood. The third prisoner, the lad of nineteen, was a youth that was struggling with an intensity that only one about to be unmanned can understand. He was swinging his fists, kicking with his feet, and still babbling at the top of his lungs as they pulled him to the table. The crowd was cheering the slaves on, anxious for him to get his due, and their appetites were eager after watching the unmanning of the other two before him. The green eyes of the boy were wide with fear and desperation, and his arms lashed out hard even though they eventually got them under control. Finally, squirming in their grasp, the slaves had him down on the table, and then, with some final effort, they had his arms spread out as well. He never stopped his struggles, even after he was tied. I had them place an extra rope under his legs and around his thighs, as he was bucking so hard and raising his hips so far off the table that I didn’t feel it would have been feasible to go after his prick. He was so strong! His jet-black hair was wet with sweat, and his armpits were moist and the smell was intense. Above his prick a thin line of hair ran to his navel, which contrasted to the smoothness of his chest. His nipples were small and firm, the little brown orbs tight and pointed. I moved up between his legs, so that he could see me then, and as his eyes came to mine the fear in them intensified and he started shaking his head back and forth. I reached down then, down between his legs, and hefted his balls and held them in my hand. He should have known that I wasn’t planning to take them, but perhaps he feared otherwise as he struggled harder when I touched them, and as I fondled them and felt the testicles within his sac I knew they would eventually be his undoing. As I held his sack his prick grew ever stiffer, and the tip began too ooze its fluid and it started to bob to the boy’s own heartbeat. His prick was nothing compared to the one I had already taken. It still had the slimness of youth and while it was of a normal length it was not impressive in comparison. Still, it was obvious the boy was not anxious to lose it and he started jerking so hard on his bonds that his back was coming off the table. He would bend his neck backward and push upward on his hips, arching his back and making it difficult to even hold his balls much less try to grab his prick to cut it. He was so wild that I knew if I didn’t get his struggles under control I could never successfully do what had to be done.

I glanced to the crowd, and in the front row I saw exactly what I needed. There, seated in the middle in front of the table was a young blond-haired lad, who couldn’t have been over fourteen. The look in his blue eyes was intense, and his cock was so hard in his pants that it was obvious he was enthralled by what he was seeing. I motioned for him to come to me, and at first he was afraid but I assured him and as I nodded to his father the boy received the encouragement he needed and so he came.

“So, what do you think young man? His prick is jutting hard and ready---will you help me to take it?”

The boy swallowed, and then his eyes brightened, and he nodded. I could see the bulge in his pants and the outline of his cock, as hard as the boy’s on the table. A few in the crowd had seen it too now and there was some laughter at his excitement although I’m not sure the boy realized it.

The youth on the table was still struggling wildly, and in spite of the extra ties his hips were still bucking and his cock was bouncing to the struggles. He was jerking on the bonds that held his wrists, and he continued to arch his back and he shook the entire table as he did so. I had never had anyone struggle as hard as he was. I had the blond boy mount the table then, to sit on his chest to hold him down. I helped get him into the position I wanted, and had him straddle the boy on the table, so that his legs were bent out behind him and he was sitting on the boy’s chest, his balls in his pants resting on the lad’s ripped stomach. As he did so, the struggling boy was finally brought under control, and with the weight of the young teen on top of him he was held down to the table, and for the first time I knew I could finally take his cock and he would not be able to stop me.

I think the boy sensed it too. I could no longer see the eyes of the young prisoner as the blue-eyed teen was straddling him and was blocking my view. It didn’t matter, as I could see his balls and his shaft, and it was the shaft that was the center of my attention and it was the goal I was after. But the crowd could see his face, and I could tell from the reaction there that the boy was still quaking with fear, even as his prick responded to the attention I had given his balls. I then looked to the blond youth, and said “Take his prick. When I tell you, I want you to jerk it slowly up and down until I cut it free and it’s in your hands.”

The boy seemed so excited, and I could see his eyes were literally sparkling as I watched him grab the youth’s erection. I’m sure it was the first time in his life he had held the cock of another. He seemed to be looking with an eagerness that is hard to describe. I noticed the bulge in his pants had grown even more pronounced, and as I stared at it I saw the prick in his pants stir and lengthen even more. When I saw it move, it reminded me to stir the pot of coals then, and after I did so I brought out the knife which was white hot and ready. As soon as I did so the crowd cheered, eager to watch the prick be taken and almost giddy for it to begin. The youth strapped to the table must have sensed it too, as he pulled hard against his bonds even though his movements were now constrained. I had my confidence now, and I knew how I must take the cock. The blade was still glowing, red now, hot from the fire, and I slowly brought it toward the one magic spot, where everything comes together until the shaft of the prick merges and the base of the cock disappears into the body. His prick was long and thin, and the cock-head was bulging big and purple, glistening with his desire almost as if it knew there would be no tomorrow. I had the boy begin to pump him then, working his cock up and down. The end of his prick was seeping copiously almost as soon as he started, and as the blond haired youth worked the precum over the shaft he was pumping, I heard the tied up boy grunt from the intensity of the feeling. As I watched, his balls started to draw up the way that they do when the feeling is building, the fullness in his nuts building for their very last release. I wondered if he realized it. As the young teen was pumping the cock, I hesitated, and then I swallowed as I started to do what I knew was my task. I took the hot knife and pushed the tip of the thin blade directly against the lowest part of the prick, underneath of the shaft, at the very point where his prick went into his body. Suddenly, as he felt the tip of the hot metal, he cried out, and as he did so it was obvious as he shuddered that he began to jet his seed from deep within his balls. The blond haired youth shouted as the first spurt erupted upwards, so violently that it hit him in the blond in his face even as he continued to pump the cock that was pulsating. As the tied up youth began the most intense orgasm of his life I could see that his balls were trying to pump themselves dry, pushing his seed out into the air and looking desperately for something to fertilize.

As he jetted out his semen, I pushed harder on the knife blade, the red hot tip penetrating into his shaft and piercing the piss tube right at the base of his cock, almost inside of him. I then quickly rotated the knife, burning a small hole there even as his dick pulsated with pleasure. I then removed the knife, and let his semen begin to jet out of the base of his cock where I had burned in the new piss hole. Once I saw I had been successful, and the new hole was made and it was open, then the rest of his cock was no longer important. Consequently, even as his final orgasm was ending, I reached down with the knife and drew the glowing sharp blade very slowly through the base of his cock slicing it cleanly off even with his body. The youth screamed into his gag, crying out as the burning knife did its work, melting through his meat and sealing both sides of the wound simultaneously. As his pulsating cock came free, the hot knife sealed the end and like the other prick the blood was trapped inside. Likewise, the wound was sealed shut by the red hot knife, and almost no blood came out. I smiled at my success! Yet, even as I burned his prick from his body, the teenage boy’s semen was still finishing the last of its squirting, still pumping out the little hole that I had burned into him a dozen seconds before. It looked almost funny, jetting out of the empty space above his balls, the white rope of cum coming from within him, splattering onto his belly without a cock to direct it.

I looked up at the blue-eyed youth who was now holding the boy’s amputated erection, and as I looked at him I was just in time to see his eyes glass over. As they did, I saw that he too was pumping out his own semen and as I watched it was obviously flooding into his pants. He was grunting as he shot, staring wide-eyed and as I looked at him he continued to spurt into his own pants, his entire body convulsing as he ejaculated with a vengeance. Obviously, the hotness of what he had helped to do was so intense he had literally blown his own wad. I could see for fourteen he had quite a load too, and as it flooded through the fabric and began to wet the chest of the boy underneath him I could only smile and watch, the intensity of his look something I can never forget.

Finally, he was done, and as he looked down at the wetness in his pants his faced flushed bright red, and as he looked back at me and realized I had seen him do it, he looked totally humiliated. I said “Nice wad” and he blushed even redder. Sometime in that process while I was watching the blond boy ejaculate, the prisoner had feinted from the pain and the realization of what had happened to him. I got up then, the crowd crazy with their excitement, their applause literally thundering through the cutting yard. I looked at the youth on the table, his big balls still bulging, looking strange under the cock-less crotch where only a small piss hole was visible. His cock was totally gone....not even a bud for him to play with. The youth lay flat on his back, the wetness from the younger teens spunk still visible on his chest. As they started to cut him down and drag him towards his life in the prison, I turned my back and began to put away my tools. As I stared at the table, I noted the bowl which now contained the two sets of balls from the young rapists. Next to them, the two cocks were laying stretched out, the hot knife having trapped the blood in them. I noticed that the still hard cocks looked strangely eager almost as if they were looking for yet another pussy that would never come. I smiled then. My reputation was secure, and I knew it had gone well. The crowd was still applauding, and while normally I did not notice them for some reason this time I appreciated their response. If nothing else, it had been an interesting and entertaining afternoon, and the prisoners had gotten what they deserved and I had made it happen. I smiled then, and headed for the central city in search of a woman to mount. My own prick had grown rigid, and it was time for me to seek its relief.

[Authors note: If you liked this story I would REALLY appreciate a short note letting me know. Thanks. [email protected]]