Chapter 8

I must have slept as soundly as she, for I remember nothing else until being awakened with a start, in our dark room.

It was the ringing of the bedside telephone that had awakened me, as it evidently had my wife. I heard her lift the receiver, then after a pause say sleepily, "Yes, we'll be there in just a few minutes."

The receiver clattered into place on the handset, and then she turned on the table lamp beside the bed. When she noticed I was also awake, she first looked at my crotch, then took a glass bottle from the bedside table and removed the stopper from its top. She lifted my head with one arm while tipping the bottle against my lips, then said only, "Drink." And I did.

It was only then that I looked down, and once again I saw that my penis had failed to maintain an erection as she wanted it to do. Far from being proud of me, as she'd said before we'd fallen asleep, I was sure that she was now ashamed of my inability to act like a real man. Luckily, just at that moment, I both saw and felt a stirring in the tiny red worm hanging off my crotch, and even though it was undoubtedly due to the effects of the drug, the little thing was soon standing at full staff.

Kathy then sent me off to the bathroom to do what I needed to do, as well as brush my teeth, because, as she said, "You smell like you've been eating somebody's asshole." Although she laughed at that, I was sure she was pretty much correct, since that was a mostly-accurate description of what had happened during my last visit to the mounting table. With that thought, and glad that I was once again able to walk under my own power, I made my slow way to the toilet.

After a hurried session, I returned to the main room to see her looking bright and cheery, and fully dressed in a new, extremely brief, dress and a very-low-cut blouse. When she saw me staring at her, she twirled to display her lovely body, then asked, "Like it, honey? I bought it especially for our anniversary vacation, because I was so sure Hans would like it, too." Even without the drug, I'd have been speechless, because as she pirouetted, the tiny skirt stood up, revealing her complete absence of panties. Whether it was the effects of the drug, or the memories of my cuckolding fantasies, her words didn't cause me to be the least bit jealous.

Kathy was evidently anxious to get to the basement, for she quickly snapped the chain in place on my glans ring, then pulled me hurriedly to the door. My best pace was little better than a slow walk, since just the slightest movement made the barbed tube rub against my leg, sending renewed waves of agony through my crotch. However, we were soon in the elevator, descending toward whatever my fate was to be. I have to admit that the mystery and suspense just made everything even more exciting.

The second the elevator touched the basement floor, she jerked the door open, and then with equal force jerked the chain. I tried my very best to keep up with her, but by then the third dose of the medicine had combined with the remainder of the second dose, and it was as if I were floating, rather than walking.

I don't remember passing any of the doors in the dungeon, so have no idea which room we entered. I do know that everyone else was already there, and as we entered they began to applaud and cheer. Finally, Herr Trotter raised his arms to call for quiet, then in the intense silence that followed, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, Kathy has at last delivered the guest of honor to us."

He was standing beside a small table that held a large bottle of champagne, plus seven beautiful wine glasses, already filled with the bubbling liquid. He picked up one and handed it to Kathy. Then the other six glasses were distributed to the four guests, Herr Nunnemacher, and himself. Raising his above his head, he said, "And now, I think we should toast the lovely Frau ______ for bringing her husband here, and giving us so much entertainment."

Acting as one, the other six also raised their own glasses, then drained them quickly. Herr Trotter, when he saw the celebratory drink had been swallowed by all, continued, "As I have already promised, you will find tonight's festivities to be more exciting than anything you've ever imagined. And now, with no further delay, I yield the floor to the dear woman."

As everyone looked expectantly at her, Kathy once again gave the chain a savage tug. She led me to the only other piece of furniture in the entire room: a table that was so oddly shaped as to confuse me momentarily. My first thought was that a letter "T" had been joined with an upside-down letter "Y" to come up with the shape. Then, as my barely-working brain gave the matter further thought, I realized that the thing was the exact shape of a stick-figure person. When I recognized the wide leather cuffs attached to the ends of the shape, understanding flooded over me. As I was sure she would do, she urged me to lie on the thing on my back, and then the other four guests secured the cuffs to my ankles and wrists, holding me in a spreadeagle position

Then with Carol and Helga (still entirely nude, to my great pleasure) standing on one side of the table and their husbands on the other, all four reached beneath it and brought up the six ends of three leather belts. Two of the belts were placed across my upper thighs, about six inches below my pain-filled balls, holding me bound to the letter "Y." The other went across my abdomen, an equal distance above the dancing head of my little dick, serving to hold me to the center of the table. I was then as tightly secured to that strange table as I had been to the mounting platform that morning and afternoon.

As the four "helpers" stepped away from the table, Kathy took their place, and stood there looking down at me for a long time before finally speaking directly to me, almost as if only the two of us were in the room.

She began by whispering a question that was the prelude to the most exciting words I'd ever heard from her lips, and that spoke to such a deep-seated fantasy of mine that I was virtually out of my mind with lust.

Her question was so simple, yet so meaningful. She asked, "Do you know what a 'eunuch' is, honey?"

As before, the only two words I could speak passed my lips, and I replied, "Yes, Mistress."

She said, "I thought you probably did. After I put that keylogger on your computer, I found out just how much time you were spending on those Websites that talked about that, and had all those pictures of men who'd had that done to them. Boy, I'll never forget how I thought you were nothing but a dirty little pervert at first, but then after I'd seen all those pictures, and read some of the stories, something just seemed to click in my head. I'm sure that after a week or so, I wanted it just as much as you did.

And then when you found the hotel's site, and I wrote to Hans to see if you could be the one on the table instead of me, it just got hotter and hotter. I'd always thought that stuff about eunuchs was just a fantasy before he told me about all the 'special procedures' they could use on you. After that, when I knew it could be done for real, it was just about the only thing I could think of."

She paused for another length of time, then continued,"I'm sure most people think there're only two ways to make a eunuch, which is what I used to think. I know most of your photos showed men who'd been castrated, and some of them showed the ones who'd had everything cut off. Well, Hans told me about a third method, and when he told me what it'd do to a man to have that done to him, that was just the topper.

He said that if I just had you castrated, you'd probably lose all interest in sex in a few months. If you had everything cut off, the same thing would happen. I didn't think that was the way to go, and that's what I told him. Well, that's when he told me there was another way to do it, and it'd keep you so fucking horny all the time, it'd just drive you crazy. Then when he sent me some photos of men who were that type of eunuch, I knew it was what we'd want. You already know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

She was right about that, because I had known for some time about the "third" type of eunuch, and that was the one my fantasies always featured. Even though I had no choice but to say those same two words, I tried to put as much emotion in them as possible when I said, "Yes, Mistress!"

She smiled down at me, then continued, "It sounds like we're on the same page here. I think you want your little dickie cut off, but your balls left on, just as much as I do. God, just think how hot you'll be when you can't ever cum again, and all you can think about is how much you want to, and you'll do anything in the world to please me, hoping I'll find some way to make you spurt."

Again she paused for awhile, swallowing and clearing her throat several times before saying softly, "I told Hans that I want you to be the first-ever number four type of eunuch, and when I told him what that meant, we both had a good laugh. I've always liked the idea of you being castrated, but when he told me about how it'd make you lose interest in sex, I knew that wasn't going to happen. But . . . when I thought of a way to eat my cake and have it, too, I knew I'd found the answer. So what we're going to do is cut off just one of your nuts, and then get rid of your worthless little dingus. Now, how's that for a good solution?"

She looked directly into my eyes before asking, "It's what you want, too, isn't it, honey?"

I didn't even need to pause to think about it, for I knew it was the perfect solution. I gasped out, "Yes, Mistress!"

She then turned to look at everyone standing silently around the table, and as I looked at them also, I could see that each was nodding in turn, as if in agreement with some unasked question. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued addressing only me, in a husky whisper, "I guess you probably noticed that the ring through your right nut is different than the others. The other four are just little needles, actually, with the rings attached to them. The right one, though, is a hollow tube with lots of barb thingies on it. Maybe you noticed that part when you were jerking on it so much while you were getting butt-fucked today."

That caused the others to laugh once more, and the sudden sound made her head jerk around, almost as if she'd completely forgot there was anybody else in the room other than just the two of us. She returned her gaze to me, shaking her head a couple of times, almost as if trying to clear a haze from her eyes, before continuing, "Wolfie showed me the tube when he was fucking me last night. He told me it was something new he'd designed, and then when he told me how it would be used on you, I just knew it would be lots of fun to see him using it.

So, when I put the rings on you this morning, I made sure that special one got pushed through your right nut. I guess I decided a long time ago that's the one we'd cut off, so it didn't much matter what we did to it first, did it? Anyway, you sure seemed to like what it did when you jerked around on it.

I guess everyone can see there's nothing that can be done to save the thing, so I'm just going to let Wolfie do his thing now. Should be lots of fun to watch." With that, she stepped to the side, allowing Herr Nunnemacher to take her place beside my crotch, and I knew that it was time for me to also learn what was meant by the term "special procedures."

The man walked up beside the table, then stood there for awhile in silence, doing nothing other than looking down at my tightly-bound body, my raging erection, and my doomed testis. He then turned to look at the rest of the people assembled there, placed both hands behind his waist, and then, looking for all the world like a college lecturer, began to talk of a subject that evidently gave him a great deal of pleasure.

He cleared his throat, then said, "Before I demonstrate the new device Frau ______ has so graciously given me permission to use on her husband, I would like to tell you something of my background. Those of you of German origins may already know the history behind my family name, but for those of you who do not, and for the Americans here, allow me to explain."

Again clearing his throat, he went on, "Many, many generations ago, and I know not how many, my ancestors were itinerant farmworkers. Rather than tilling the fields, though, they decided to specialize by providing a service all farmers need, most especially those who raise animals, and desire to improve the quality of the livestock by having only the best male animals breed the female animals. The problem of how to prevent the inferior males from also breeding had been solved thousands of years before, and as most of you know, that solution was castration. I believe the catchphrase, reduced to English, would be, "No balls, no babies."

He was obviously pleased with himself for being so witty, and the others smiled and laughed along with him. He then continued, "My family name, as are most in the Old World, is based on the occupation of our ancestors. As you have undoubtedly guessed by now, 'Nunnemacher' defines our occupation, and in the old language it means, simply, 'to castrate.' Again, in modern English, the phrase would probably be, 'nullo maker,' for that is what was done."

He again paused for effect, before looking down at my crotch and saying, "I have chosen to follow the old ways, as many of you know. However, instead of castrating farm animals, I have specialized in performing that particular service on males such as this one arrayed here before us." Taking my sac in one hand, then raising and squeezing it to the accompaniment of my moans and cries, he demonstrated with quick strokes of the other hand the technique he normally used, saying, "The simplest way to castrate a man is to make tiny cuts here (dragging a long fingernail across my left nut), and here (doing the same on my right.) However, simplest is not always best, and I soon realized the whole process could be made much more enjoyable, not only for me, but for any audience there happened to be, if I did more ingenious things to my 'guests' on the table."

He then took what I thought was a small ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket, then held it up for all to see as he removed the blue plastic cap from one end. To my intense shock, what was uncovered was not the tip of a pen, but a tiny blade that was undoubtedly razor sharp.

As he began to lower his hand to my crotch, I was distracted by Kathy's movement, where she stood beside me, opposite Herr Nunnemacher. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the small portion of the tabletop beside my chest, then looked over her shoulder. As my eyes followed her gaze, I saw Herr Braunfels being led by his wife, Carol, to a position directly behind my wife. Carol quickly unfastened her husband's trousers, and then in a single motion pulled them, along with his undershorts, downward until they fell in a pile around his feet. Even the beautiful woman's shaved crotch wasn't enough to distract me from the sight of her lifting Kathy's short skirt, and then urging her husband forward. My position on the table didn't allow me to see as much of the process as I longed to, but from my wife's reaction, I was another man's cock was entering her pussy, as I had fantasized about for such a long time.

I tried to watch as much as possible of what was happening to my wife, but at that moment a stab of pain radiated from my crotch, and I looked down to see Herr Nunnemacher with one finger hooked in the ring in my right nut. He was pulling the thing high above me, as if showing a class of students the correct way to conduct a lab exercise. That was reinforced when he said, "Now, in the usual castration, a small incision is made in the side of the sac, being careful not to penetrate the testis." He demonstrated the technique by holding the cutting edge lightly against the stretched skin over the part in question, and then making a shallow cut about an inch long.

Satisfied that he had the full attention of everyone, he continued, "The next step would be to squeeze the testis from its home. However, in this case, the barbed tube would prevent its exit. That requires a further step, which is to make an incision from one end of the tube to the other, again being careful to cut only the skin of the sac." Again he put his words into action, skillfully drawing the scalpel along an arc from one side of the ball to the other.

The thing in question literally popped out of its lifelong home, and he held it even higher for all to see. Herr Trotter placed a small metal tray on my abdomen, beside my throbbing little dick, to the accompaniment of exclamations of, "Ewww! Yuck!" I certainly felt much as did the others, for never in my life had I seen anything so ugly.

What dropped onto the tray was not a "ball" so much as it was a misshapen, oversize kidney bean. The thing was a sickly blend of white, pink, gray, and blue colors, which would have been bad enough. However, the part that turned my stomach, and made me agree with the sounds of disgust coming from the watchers, was what was attached to the testis on what was probably its top.

What was so sickening was a mass of what looked like small yellow worms growing from the thing. A tube was attached to the mass, and it draped across the edge of the pan, where it disappeared from sight. I assumed it ran back to some point of attachment inside the open sac, but couldn't raise my head enough to see that part. All I had eyes for was the horrible thing lying there on the tray, throbbing in time to the beating of my heart.

Again he reached into the drawer, this time bringing out a spool of black thread and a pair of scissors. He deftly snipped off a one-foot length of the thread, then began to do something with it between my legs. Since I was unable to raise my head more than a couple of inches, I couldn't see what he was doing, but was sure he was tying off the tube that still connected the thing on the tray to its former home.

Herr Nunnemacher then hooked one finger in the ring Kathy had pushed through that part just that morning. Lifting his hand into the air a few inches, he pointed to the tube, then said, "Note that one end of the device is open. That allows this to be inserted." He then opened a small drawer underneath the tabletop and took out what looked for all the world like a thin blasting cap, such as would be inserted in a stick of dynamite to ignite it. My first thought was that he intended to use it to explode my right nut, and it seemed a good solution to me. I certainly didn't want such an ugly thing attached to me anymore.

As he held the device higher so everyone could see it, I saw that a small cord or wire was connected to it, and that it ran down out of my sight. He then carefully inserted the thing inside the tube, where it fit snugly, confirming that it had been designed for such a use. Satisfied with that part, Herr Nunnemacher lifted the trailing wire to show us an ordinary electrical plug on its other end, and then paused to allow everyone there to admire his little invention. Then, satisfied all had at least some small idea of the purpose of the device he had embedded in my right nut, he again placed it in the tray. He then grasped the plug between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, took the mating end of an extension cord out of the drawer, and saying only, "Voila," joined the two to complete the circuit.

The room was completely silent then, except for the liquid sound of Herr Braunfel's cock sliding in and out of my wife's vagina. I looked up at her expectantly, seeing that she had eyes only for the disgusting thing lying on the tray, as did everyone else in the room. Again I looked downward, and at that moment felt the first twinges of what my torturer had planned for me.