“Hey Pete! Check out the balls on that little fucker!” Todd said, pointing to the youth standing by the pool.

“Yeah, what about them?” his companion asked.

“Hell, he’s as big as I am but hung like a baby,” Pete exclaimed, cupping the rigid youth’s marble-white testicles in his hand to judge their size. “Poor kid, let me solve your problems.” He then abruptly raised the claw hammer into the frozen boy’s crotch, sending the testicles crashing to the ground. He completed the emasculation by bring the hammer down and snapping the penis from the statue. “Here,” he told Pete, handing him the short, uncircumcised cock. “Want to suck it?”

“Todd, you’re one sick dude,” Pete had unconsciously moved his hands to protectively cover his genitals. “Let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”

“It looks old,” Sgt Wilkins said, pointing to the mutilated statue. “Is it valuable?”

“The original Apollo in the Lourve is priceless, of course,” Nelson, the estate manager told the policeman. “This is just a concrete and plaster replica that is cast in Chicago. Perhaps a thousand dollars at the most.”

“Well, Sir, if I were you I’d seriously consider upgrading your security system.” The patrolman accompanying Sgt Wilkins handed Nelson a copy of the completed police report. “Have a good day, sir.”

“The guy seems kind of hinky, don’t you think?” The patrolman said as he piloted the cruiser down the long driveway. “I mean, he didn’t seem to care about catching the kids or whoever they are. He just wanted paperwork for the insurance company.”

“Did you catch the owner’s name”? Sgt. Wilkins asked.

“No. Anyone special?”

“Vincino Carlini.” Wilkins answered.

“The Vinny Carlini? The Don that owns damn near this whole point?”

“That’s the one,” Wilkins affirmed.

“Hoo boy!” The patrolman was clearly impressed.

The estate, in fact, had an excellent security system. Hidden cameras looked over every square foot of the grounds and were backed up by microphones and motion detectors, all of which were remoted to a control center in the manager’s quarters. Normally the manager would have been immediately aware of any trespass and would have focused a spotlight on the intruders and would have gotten on the PA system and told them to haul ass but Nelson was in the gardeners’ quarters at the time interviewing a young Salvadoran who had applied for a job. The youth was frail and looked underage but had a tremendous amount of sexual energy and had stored up a truly impressive amount of semen, which had been transferred to Nelson through the course of the interview.

The tapes showed two boys entering the grounds through a gap in the back fence and showed then swiping a claw hammer from a gardener’s shed which they later discarded on their way back out. He knew that they were young teens and that one had longish blonde hair while the other’s was short and brown, and he knew that their first names were Todd and Pete. He also knew that he must find them before the owner returned from abroad or it would be his balls on the chopping block. The owner was willing to overlook Nelson’s little perversions but was totally intolerant of any incompetence. Fortunately, Nelson was not without resources and it was merely a matter of calling and faxing all of his contacts and offering them the eternal gratitude of Mr.Carlini in exchange for the identity and addresses of the two youths shown on the videotape.

“Uh, one thing more, Sir,” Nelson hoped like hell that the telephone didn’t give his boss any indication that he was sweating. “ I was uh, preoccupied and there was a uh, breach in security. Two juveniles entered the property and committed some petty vandalism.”

“How much damage?” Vinny Carlini asked.

“Just some damage to the concrete Apollo by the pool, Sir. I processed the insurance claim and the statue has already been replaced.”

“Have these juveniles you spoke of been apprehended?”

“Uh, yes Sir. The are presently in custody.” Nelson relaxed slightly.

“Police custody?” Carlini’s voice now carried a slight edge.

“No Sir. They are here, in the basement. I am holding them for your disposition.”

“Are these local youths?” Asked Carlini.

“No Sir. They’re from the East side. They just came out here to raise a little hell.”

“Okay then Nelson. You handle it. Make the punishment fit the crime. I don’t want word getting around the East side schools that someone can come out to the point and fuck around and get away with it.”

“Yes Sir.” Nelson said, somewhat relieved.

“One more thing, Nelson.”

Yes Sir?”

“Don’t let it happen again, okay?”

“Yes Sir,” Nelson replied, ending the bi-weekly call to his employer.

Greatly relieved, Nelson gathered some supplies in small bucket and descended two floors down to the subbasement of the estate. “Good Morning, gentlemen,” he said cheerfully as he entered the small room. Winston Todd and his buddy, Pete Wilson had been out boxing, as they called it, which consisted of rifling through the glove boxes of parked cars in search of drugs, valuables, or identifications that could be converted to cash when they’d suddenly been overpowered, blindfolded, and shoved into the backseat of one of the cars they had entered. They had been driven around for what seemed like hours and were finally hustled down some stairs, stripped naked, and locked into a cage in a hot, stuffy, room.

The room was about sixteen feet square and had once been a coalbunker for the adjacent furnace and boiler until their conversion to natural gas. The room was now used for other purposes and its walls had heard countless accusations, screams of pain, and ultimately the confessions of its temporary occupants. A small cage or cell, eight feet square, had been assembled from sturdy iron bars and sat in the middle of the room. The cell’s only furnishing was a small foam mat on which to sleep. There was no plumbing: the occupants were expected to hang it through the bars and piss in a bucket placed there for that purpose, and a shallow box half full of kitty litter was provided for major movements. Bottled water and small portions of food were passed in occasionally.

The boys didn’t know where they were or how long they’d been there. There was no clock to mark time and the single bulb that hung from the wall had never dimmed during the boys’ stay. Their only reference to time was the accumulation in the litter box of their defecations.

The cell had been designed to house only one person and the two boys, small as they were, nearly filled the space. Both were naked: the heat from the furnace and boiler in the adjacent room kept the cell at a temperature where clothes were unneeded, and each boy wore only a strong metal collar around his neck that was attached to slender steel cables that extended through the bars to small winches mounted in opposite corners of the room.

“When are you fucking going to let us out of here?” Todd demanded. .

“Today,” Nelson set the bucket down and circled the cage to where the winch hooked to Todd’s collar was located. “You can go home tonight.” He said, cranking the winch handle.

He was fourteen, the same age as his companion but slightly shorter and somewhat more mature. Teenage-skinny hairless arms with dark tufts of hair in the pits, well-formed, slightly muscular shoulders, and a slender torso and flat belly below which a stubby circumcised cock peeked from a dense mat of hair. His balls seemed incongruously large for the size of his body and hung luxuriously low between slim, lightly haired thighs and wooly calves. A shadow of soft hair, fine as smoke, clouded his chin and acne-scarred cheeks.

Nelson then turned his attention to the other boy. He was taller and thinner than his buddy but obviously had entered puberty later. His long blonde hair fell in a mop to one side of his angelic face. He was totally beardless and had the clear skin and rosy cheeks of a boy. His arms and legs seemed almost frail, and he had only a smattering of hair on his crotch and none on his legs. He was uncircumcised and his flaccid cock was at least twice as long as that of his pal. It hung down four inches in a graceful arc, and was in marked contrast to the smallish testicles in a nearly hairless scrotum. A few turns of the winch handle and he was loosely secured in the opposite corner of the cell.

“What the fuck you doing?” Todd asked, angrily. He was not only more profane than Pete, but was also the instigator of the mischief and also the one to wield the hammer, and it was he that would receive the more sever punishment.

“Shut up and put your hands behind your head. You’ll find out soon enough,” Nelson replied, toting his pail around the cage to a position behind the boy.

“Fuck you, asshole!” Todd replied, refusing to comply. Nelson reached into the pail and took out a shiny device that resembled a bicycle pump. He activated a switch and the pressed the end of the device against Todd’s left butt cheek and pushed a button. The device was an old fashioned cattle prod, an electric device that was the predecessor to the modern tasers used by police. “Yike!” Todd let out a high-pitched scream and tried to jerk away from the device.

“Want some more?” Nelson asked, shoving the device between the boys legs to where he was sure it touched his scrotum.

“No! Don’t!” The now compliant boy immediately thrust his hands behind his head.

“Good boy,” Nelson said, snapping a handcuff around the boy’s wrist. He then pulled the manacle and the boy’s other wrist through the vertical bars of the cage and fastened them together around one of the bars. Nelson then entered the cage and removed two pieces of rope from the bucket. “Hold out one leg,” he commanded, brandishing the cattle prod in an obvious threat. “Good boy, now the other,” said Nelson after tying the ropes securely around the boy’s ankles. “Okay now, squat down.” Todd complied, sliding his hands down the bar of the cage until he was squatted on his haunches, as if taking a shit.

Nelson left him that way while he passed the free ends of the ropes through the bars on the opposite corners of the cage, then went to the winch and loosened the boy’s neck cable while tightening the ankle ropes. In a few minutes Todd was stretched out face up on the floor of the cage with his legs spread wide and balls sagging onto the floor. Nelson checked the tension on the ropes carefully before entering the cage and squatting between the boy’s legs. He then extracted a piece of strong twine from the bucket, threw a slipknot in one end and placed the loop around one of Todd’s testicles and tightened the knot. Working quickly, he made an identical loop in the other end of the cord and placed it around the boy’s other ball, pinioning and separating the gonads on each side of the cock. He reinforced the knots with another couple of loops and then stood up to admire his handiwork.

The attention paid to Todd’s balls had caused the boy’s cock to swell, and by the time Nelson was finished the lad was in full erection, all five inches of his thick cock arching upwards along his belly. “Comfortable? Having a good time?” Nelson asked. He wasn’t surprised at the size of the boy’s cock: Both boys typically woke up with boners, and although they concealed them from each other the overhead surveillance camera recorded it all for Nelson’s viewing pleasure. Pete’s cock was much longer flaccid but Nelson knew that both boys were nearly the same length hard.

Nelson moved to one side of the boy and gently began rubbing the youth’s balls and slowly stroking the cock with the palm of his hand. He had no compunctions about sucking cock and he normally would have done so, but this was about humiliation and he didn’t want the boy to have the satisfaction of receiving what was probably the only blowjob he’d ever get. The boy’s hips picked up the rhythm as Nelson increased the pace, and in less than a minute he suddenly arched his back and grunted as a week’s worth of pent up sperm suddenly flew upwards onto his belly in four thick ropes.

Nelson turned and noticed that Pete’s slender adolescent cock was now jutting upward at a jaunty angle, foreskin retracted and head glistening with anticipation. The boy caught his glance and suddenly dropped his hands to conceal his erection as if ashamed of what was a perfectly normal teenage response. Nelson ignored the boy and reached into the bucket to extract a small block of wood about four inches in diameter and six inches long which he placed under Todd’s captive balls. “Recognize this?” He asked, removing the next item from the bucket.

Todd’s eyes grew wide with fear and he struggled to free himself when he saw the hammer. It was no dainty cabinetmaker or housewife’s hammer: it was a framing hammer with a long handle, straight claws, and a heavy serrated head. Such tools were normally used by carpenters and deck builders but were also handy around the garden for driving stakes and mending fences, and were occasionally utilized by vandals to mutilate statues.

Todd opened his mouth as if to speak, but Nelson cut off his plea for mercy by yanking the cord and slamming the raised hammer down on Todd’s extended left testicle. Nelson had anticipated a scream from the boy, but instead there was just a soft goosh of air as the boy’s body convulsed. He raised the hammer and duplicated the move on the right nut, and as the cord slipped free from around the destroyed scrotum the boy mercifully passed out. Nelson then released the handcuffs and freed the rope from the boy’s ankles, allowing the still unconscious lad to reflexively grab his crotch and curl up like a sowbug.

Nelson rose to his feet and turned towards Pete, giving the boy the first clue that Nelson also had an erection. “Get on your knees, boy,” Nelson commanded, releasing the winch cable enough for the boy to reluctantly comply. He the reentered the cell and pulled his shorts down to free his cock for action. “Ass up and head down. That’s right, now spread your legs.” Nelson went to his knees behind the boy and spread the hairless white ass cheeks apart. The small, puckered orifice was surrounded by a few brown streaks, but Nelson didn’t care. His thick cock was nowhere near the dimension required of a porn star, but it was the largest thing that had ever been in or out of the boy’s virgin hole and the boy screamed each time as it entered and exited several times over the course of the next fifteen minutes.

“Stay there boy, don’t move,” Nelson commanded as he rose to his feet and pulled up his pants. The boy’s hole was still open slightly allowing a slug trail of Nelson’s sperm to seep downward. His balls were tucked up between his hairless thighs like those of a young dog. Nelson casually stepped back, took aim, and kicked the kneeling boy in the balls hard enough to send him rolling head over heels into the opposite corner of the cell. Nelson wasn’t a medic, but he knew enough about anatomy to know that the kick has stretched both testicles and that the rupture or torsion would need surgical repair, and that his perinium, that delicate nerve center around the prostate had also been damaged. It would be a long time before the kid would get another erection.

“Put the phony plates on the van,” he told the driver, “and drop these two off, just as they are, in front of Marshall High School. I want everyone there to get a good look at them.”