It never occurred to me that it was dumb to answer a pen pal request from a convict in prison. I was just trying to “do the right thing” and make one guy on the planet a little less miserable. George had written only that he was white and 21, nothing more. I really wanted to make the world a better place, so I wrote him. I now know I included way more about myself than I should have, not realizing the obvious potential consequences. I wrote that I was a gay 21-year-old who’d been rejected by my family and was living independently and alone. I was about to start full-time community college in three weeks. I even gave him the address where I lived and invited him to visit and have coffee when he got out.

Two weeks later, just-paroled George, who clearly was more like 30, showed up at my apartment door, without advance notice and carrying a backpack with clothes and sacks from a local pharmacy and the university bookstore. It was 10:00 Fri. evening. He was muscular and about six inches taller than me and when I answered the door simply said, “Hi, I‘m George.” When I tried to stop him from entering my apartment, he forced his way in and made it instantly clear what he wanted and was going to get. He told me “You’re mine now … period, end of discussion.” Over the weekend, he took complete control of my body and my existence. That first night was all sex, him fucking me or me forced to suck him off, the entire night long. There were only minutes between the end of one sex act and the start of the next. Finally morning came.

First thing Saturday, he took me to a tattoo parlor and had “George’s” tattooed just above my butt. My ass now was marked as his property. When we got back to what George now considered his apartment, he had me shower and shave all the body hair below my neck that I could reach … chest, arms, legs, crotch, he specifically mentioned shaving my scrotum completely. Once I’d shaved everywhere I could, George came in and finished the job by shaving my ass. I was now completely hairless except for the hair on my head.

Saturday afternoon, he wanted to watch TV and made me sit, naked, on the sofa beside him as he channel-surfed. George suddenly started reaching between my legs and squeezing my balls. I moaned in pain and begged him to stop, but he only squeezed harder. When he let up I sighed in relief, but then he would squeeze them hard again. This went on for about an hour. Then he told me to get ready to be gelded. I’d never heard the word before and when I asked what it meant, George explained he was going to castrate me. George, knowing before coming to my apartment what he intended to do, had stopped at the university book store and bought a dissection kit normally used for biology class; it included most of what he needed for “the surgery”; and he’d visited a pharmacy for the necessary bandages and antibiotic ointment, as well as a spray-on local anesthetic., the kind used on ballplayers when a ball hits their shins hard.

George ordered me to lay on the floor on my back, with legs spread as far apart as I could get them. After spraying the anesthetic onto my scrotum and waiting briefly, he made incisions at each side of it and nudged the testicles out, one after the other. He severed the cords with a quick snip using the surgical scissors in the dissection kit, and finished by suturing each incision closed, applying antibiotic ointment, and putting bandages over each wound. I was surprised that it didn’t hurt much at all. George was completely done in well under an hour.

We went back to sitting on the sofa and watching TV. Since there were no longer balls to squeeze, George massaged my now-empty scrotum. This time, I found what he was doing pleasurable. I even got a hard-on, and he gave me permission, well - ordered me, now that I think about it - to jack off, saying we needed me past that stage. Regardless, I did masturbate and had the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. When I was done and had a chance to recover, he whispered a question, “Worth it?” I was shocked by my immediate - and heartfelt - answer, “Yes.” My fate was now sealed.

George had me stay enrolled in the college. He told me what classes I could take each semester. I was absolutely forbidden to take any PE classes, he didn’t want anyone to see I was a eunuch. After a while, he started asking about especially cute guys in my classes. I tried to avoid answering, but finally did say there was one I thought was really hot. George told me to invite him over for dinner the Friday that started Spring Break. Of course I knew what George intended, but I also knew I had no choice. So I approached Kris and asked him if he might like to come over for dinner and he accepted. His fate was now sealed.

Kris came to the apartment, unsuspecting, at the time we‘d agreed on. I introduced George as “my friend” and the two of them seemingly hit it off through the whole dinner. But George spiked the last drink of the evening, and Kris was quickly out like a light. George castrated Kris just like he’d done me except that Kris was unconscious, then George carried him, fireman-style, into the bedroom. He ordered me to stay in the front room until he gave me permission to join them.

Pretty soon, it became clear from the sounds I heard that Kris had been woken up and was being forced into sex, first anal and then oral. After several hours, George opened the bedroom door and signaled me to join them. George fucked me while I sucked Kris off to a fantastic orgasm. Then he fucked Kris while Kris sucked me less successfully, since it had been a while since my own castration. Kris finally resorted to kissing me and sucking my nipples as he was being fucked, which led me to what I can only describe as a cumless orgasm.

George had both me and Kris, and figured he could get other guys the same way whenever he wanted. The next morning, he took Kris to the tattoo parlor for the same permanent “George’s” mark above his butt, and Kris now was forced to follow the same rules as me. I thought maybe George wanted to keep both of us permanently, which I would’ve been okay with. But one day he said we were having company. It turned out he’d told a guy named Jack, one of his prison buddies who was also now out on parole, about our situation and the guy was interested in me since I’d been such an easy turnout. When he showed up, he took me into the bedroom and made me strip and get on the bed. When he saw my “George’s” butt tattoo, he chuckled and said, “If I buy you, we'll have to get ‘no longer’ above that.” As he took his clothes off, I saw his torso had a number of Neo-Nazi and White Power tattoos and knew I didn‘t want to be with this guy. As if I had any choice.

But Jack tried me out and was quite satisfied, so he decided he would indeed buy me. I now belonged to him so he took me back to his place and we were there before 11:00 that night. Things were different with Jack. He was rougher about sex, and decided he wanted me to have a lot of the same tattoos he had. But the first tattoo of course was the “No longer” above the “George’s” tattoo my butt came with. Within weeks, I also had swastikas and iron crosses and similar neo-Nazi and White Power symbols on my chest and back. As a joke, Jack also had his name tattooed over my heart. That I could’ve lived with by itself, but I was no Nazi, neo- or otherwise, nor was I racist or anti-Semitic. So to have these symbols permanently marking my body destroyed my psyche. I simply accepted what was being done to me like a prison punk accepts what’s done to him.

For several years, I was passed from ex-con to ex-con as a sex toy. Eventually, and despite my ability to give great sexual pleasure in the passive role, the last guy I was with simply told me to get lost. I made my way back to the town where George had taken my life over. Amazingly, I recognized Kris working as a bartender in a restaurant and, after a few seconds of shock, he realized who was staring at him so intently and came over to give me a huge hug. He’d never blamed me for what happened, and hoped someday he’d see me again to say that. He explained that when he saw me sold to Jack and realized the same would happen to him, he needed to get away and managed to escape. Not long after, George had been killed by another ex-con over a boy both of them wanted, so Kris was safely able to return to a more normal life. He invited me to come live with him in his one-bedroom apartment. I accepted the invitation gladly but not before warning him about the repulsive tattoos. In spite of them, we’re a happy couple to this day.