Byzantium 8: A Final Satisfaction

‘Pick two good-looking ones,’ he said, dabbing his mouth with a cloth, ‘Not too young. Fourteen or fifteen. They won’t be pets. They’ll have to earn their keep.’

And that was all his interest was. The women’s quarters needed two more young eunuchs to carry out the chores there, from carrying bath water, to scrubbing floors. He had no other involvement in the process. It was his order and it was my task to choose them and to geld them, as I had done every two or three years since the master’s marriage.

It usually took a few days for me to choose the boys.

They were not simply selected simply on physical attributes. And the whole process was always conducted with a sense of anticipation. Ever since I first saw a new Greek slave gelded when I was 12 or 13, I had held an interest in the act, going out of my way to make sure I was present every time a boy was gelded on the estate.

Then, when I was twenty, I offered to do the job if I was taught how to do it, and I still remember reaching up under a 16 year old German slave, who had been caught fiddling around with a freeman’s daughter, to hold his tied balls while in my other hand I held the small curved gelding knife.

So that day I made an effort to see all the household boys and those who worked around the estate. To be honest, there was one slave who had immediately sprung to mind when my master had mentioned his intentions. The slave was about fifteen, born on the estate of a pair of German slaves. He was blond-haired and had always been favoured by others, so much so that now he was full of confidence and presumption.

I had seen the way he had begun to be interested in girls and the way he approached them. Only a week before I had come across him talking to one of the weaving-girls and I had brusquely ordered him back to work.

And I came across him that morning, standing with his back to me, yelling at another slave as they rolled a wine-barrel from store to kitchen. His whole attitude was of confidence. Under other circumstances I would have mentally scheduled him to be whipped at the earliest opportunity to teach him his place, but now there was perhaps a more interesting way available.

When he became aware that the gaze of the other slave indicated another presence there, and turned to see me, showing his profile, his blue eyes, the golden tan of his face, and the slightest dark brown darkening of the down on his upper lip, I choose him as one of the possibilities.

But there were more. I assessed every boy I saw that day. They jostled each other in my thoughts. Should I choose the miller’s son with his paler white skin and pitch black hair? Should I choose one of the new Italian slaves, sleek and olive-skinned? Or one of the young Slavs who worked as stable-hands?

Late that afternoon I went to the stream where the slaves washed at the end of the day and stood on the bank above the deep pool where they bathed in the summer-months. The younger boys always formed one group and, with the excess energy of their age, dived and splashed.

I could see them all naked here, from as yet hairless 12 year olds to the 16 and 17 year olds who were entering their full manhood. I watched the blonde slave strip off with close attention. He was slim but beginning to show the first signs of increasing muscle. His body was smooth but for the neat patch of dark-brown hair above his prick. He was only hung averagely but as I watched, his back towards me, he bent over to pile up his shed clothing and I could see the hang of his balls between his legs, and the pale white curve of his tight buttocks.

Of the boys in the pool, one was their natural leader. I knew him too. His three older brothers had reputations as being ardent lovers. One, though he was only twenty had already fathered three children by the girl he lived with and one or two others by younger girls. And it was as if the younger boy, even though he was only fourteen or fifteen, had felt this inheritance and was eager to seize it.

He was well-shaped, black-haired, with tanned skin. His body was was still clean-lined. His thighs were hairless. He had a dark small pubic bush above a well-endowed prick, under which close round balls hung.

I watched him in the water where he was joined for a moment by the blond, their skin glossed over by the liquid they splashed at each other. It was at that moment that I knew I had made my choice and the satisfaction settled within me.

Next morning I readied the gelding table. It was the same we used for whipping. The slave’s legs were tied to the stakes stretched out to each side of the table’s end, and the slave was bent over the table, their hands stretched out and tied to the thongs that came from the opposite end. One could them whip them or geld them.

It was easy enough to ready it and to set up the room where the boy’s would recover, their legs spread wide, for a few days until they could properly walk again. It was a close courtyard, used only for these purposes and to store the apples for winter. It smelt of that fruit and whenever I smelled it I was always reminded of the lash of a whip on the bare skin of buttocks or back, and the futile struggles of boys as they attempted to avoid the gelding knife.

Once it had been arranged to my satisfaction, I sharpened the gelding knife. It had a small curved blade and a bone handle. It had once belonged to a eunuch-maker in the city and I often wondered how many boys it had gelded in its life-span. I had been it given by a slave-dealer once when I purchased one of the first boys I ever brought deliberately so he could be gelded. That boy now was the mistress’ favourite eunuch and he accompanied her everywhere.

The blade sharpened well but I oiled it again and honed it more on the whetstone to bring it to its final edge.

Then it was a matter of just summoning some of the older stable hands to assist. They too enjoyed the gelding of young slaves, somehow grateful that it wasn’t them, and pleased at being placed in a position of power. I watched them grin at each other when I told them what they were to do. I sent one of the younger stable-hands to collect the two boys I had chosen.

When they came into the yard together I could see suspicion cross their faces at the unusual gathering that awaited them and stared at them. Because the yard was used to punish slaves, I could see the thought cross their mind and I could see them assess their recent actions to figure if anything would warrant a whipping.

‘Take off your clothes,’ I ordered.

Then, because of their slow reluctance, I had to order it again.

This was the routine of the whipping too. They stood there awkwardly, naked in front of six pairs of watching eyes.

I stood in front of the blond.

‘Now stand straight,’ I commanded.

I checked him over quickly, running my hand over his body, looking under his arms, and feeling the weight of his balls. He disliked this touch, as they all do. Then I held his prick with his foreskin reaching over the tip and unhooded it. He shivered at the movement which exposed his pointed glans to the air.

Then I brusquely turned him about, felt his back and tight buttocks, and pulled them apart to see if he was clean.

The other boy waited for the attention to come to him.

‘What have we done, sir,’ he asked, hoping to establish the crime for which he believed they were to be whipped, and to hopefully argue against it.

‘Just stand straight,’ I said roughly, and then I checked him too, perhaps less delicately than the other, squeezing his muscles, tugging a little at his coal-black pubic hair, gripping his balls with their heavy weight harder than was necessary, and tugging back his foreskin all the way.

His rear was perfectly rounded. At the markets he would have brought a good price from men who would be eager to penetrate it. I pulled apart his buttocks to expose that hole, fringed with a little patch of black hair.

I turned towards the stable hands.

‘Tie him to the post,” and I indicated the dark-haired boy, ‘and you others take him to the table,’ and I nodded at the blond.

‘But I haven’t done anything,’ the blond said, pleadingly, his blue eyes focused on my face.

The stable-hands just took him towards the table. The boy did not want to go and he dragged his feet but he was soon bent over it, while one of the stable-hands kicked his feet apart to the stakes, and another knotted the thongs there. I pulled out his hands myself and tied the leather cords about his wrists.

Meanwhile the other boy was tied to the pole we used to hold the waiting slave when we whipped two of them.

I sent one of the stablehands over with a gag for the dark-haired boy and I gagged the blond myself. He tried to turn his head away, his gold-coloured hair brushing against my arms, but I pulled his head back, pinched his nose and forced the rag into his mouth.

Then I wandered around to face his rear. His legs were wide-apart and tied tautly. His thighs were stretched. His balls hung there at the V of the thighs and above it, his biuttock cleft was opened to show the dark rose of his anus. I rest one hand on his buttocks and felt up underneath him, grabbing hold of his balls.

It was not what he had expected and I knew then that his mind was racing. Then I pulled one of the small gut nooses I had prepared from my pocket, slipped it up over his balls and pulled it really tight. His body jerked with the cut of the cut into his tender skin.

‘The master wants you gelded to serve the mistress,’ I said.

His head twisted and turned. His thighs strained as the knowledge sunk in. The black-haired boy tied to the pole began his struggle too.

I took it casually from there. My own heart beat faster and I had the beginnings of an erection in my trousers that later I knew I would have to bury in a girl or a young boy to find relief.

The stable-hands were watching with fascination. I took my knife from my belt and positioned myself behind him. He was turning his head in an effort to see me. I reached under him again and grabbed his balls. His prick flopped against my hand.

‘Now, boy,” I said, “I’m going to cut you. If you are still it’ll be quicker.’

My words were useless as he tried to struggle every which way from the bonds that held him. His thighs tried to close. His back twisted. He tried his hand bonds.

His balls were warm in my hand and I pulled them back and outward as far as I could. The stable-hands edged closer so that they could see. Then I positioned the knife just under the tight gut tie and waited there a moment so he could feel the waiting knife.

I calmed myself for a long moment. The boy continued to strain at his bonds. Then, tensing my muscles, I cut through him in one hard pull. He arced his body, blond hair falling on his back. The gag muffled his scream but it was still audible.

Then I dropped his balls to ground on one side of the table.

I was breathed out with the tension. I could see between his legs and the little flap where once his balls had hung. All the resistance had gone out of his body with the loss of his manhood and he slumped there.

‘Untie him and take him down.’

They obeyed me with alacrity. There is nothing like a demonstration of the power that is held over them to make a group of slaves more efficient. The boy was untied and two of them supported him as he was taken over to one of the waiting pallets in the room where he would heal.

The black-haired boy was tugging at his bonds. Above his gag his dark eyes pleaded with me. His prick was half-hard, sticking out a little in front of him, as he bent and twisted trying to free himself. And he fought when the stable-hands went to get him.

He kicked and pulled but they eventually got him across the yard and bent down on the table. It took all five of them. I stood back and let them bear the brunt of the boy’s struggle. His muffled voice was crying out against his future..

Then he too was perfectly positioned, bent over that table, his legs wide, his buttocks parted and between then the rounds of his hanging balls. His skin was damp with sweat.

‘Well this one is not going to be satisfying any women like his brothers,’ I said to the stable-hands.

They laughed a little but there was an uneasiness behind their laughter.

I took the black-haired boy slower. Letting him wait there for a minute while I wiped my hands on a rag. Then finally I approached him. He was watching me above his shoulder, his eyes wide.

I reached under him and grabbed hold of his balls in their moist warm sac. I could feel his prick was nearly erect under him. Some slaves do this at their gelding, others don’t.

With the gut cord, I knotted him, and left him there for a moment while I wiped down the knife, still smeared with the blond’s blood.

‘You’ll make a good eunuch,’ I said to him as I positioned myself behind him. ‘You might even find that the master might have you serve some of his guests in their bed with that little ass of yours.’

His bonds held his renewed struggle. Then I reached down again, and pulled his balls out towards me and positioned the knife. His nearly stiff prick pointed directly down towards the dust. I drew the knife so that it’s curve fitted close in to his balls.

‘Ready, boy,’ I asked.’ Now, one, two..’

And on the stroke of three I cut his manhood from him and simultaneously with my cut he spurted his last seed, my sawing motion forcing it to spray out in droplets onto the courtyard dust.

I dropped his balls beside the blonds.

‘Well,’ I said to the stable-hands, ‘take him down.’

Later while I was washing myself I decided, rather than a girl, I would prefer a boy to sap me of the tension that still dwelled within me.

I took one of the younger boys who worked in the gardens. Already news of the gelding had spread through the slaves and as the boy, around thirteen, stood before me in my room he was frightened. I eased him to the bed and stroked him, then untied his trousers and drew them down. He wasn’t hard, but that was not what I was after.

I pushed him face down on the mattress, spread apart his thighs, moistened his tight rear with oil and slowly eased my prick into him as he gasped and cried. It was a good fuck, if too short that first time. So I kept him in my room and did him twice more in the course of the evening, pushing all my pent-up seed into him, until finally I slept, satisfied.