This story forms yet another tale in the series that has come to be known as Ayzintion City. The series is written in such a way that it doesn’t really matter which story you read first, yet even so, they all form the tale and they are all written about the same, magical place that is found only in my mind. As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.

Trayton Kasker was a man I thought I understood, and I was certainly aware of his temper. I knew him well, and had worked for him for almost twenty years. I used to run his plantation, keeping the slaves in line, getting the work done, and the crops to market. As the primary overseer it was my responsibility to make the day-to-day decisions, to whip the slaves when necessary, and to reward them when the time for that was right. I was his right-hand man, the one he depended on to keep things moving, and I knew him on a first name basis. He was the master of course, the patriarch of the plantation, and I was just a worker, a hired hand in a way; but I had done his bidding for twenty years and I knew him well and we got along.

I really liked my job and, though I could have worked in other places, he was a wealthy man and paid me well for my services. My life was what I wanted it to be, and I had the renown of overseeing one of the bigger plantations outside the city, and when I went into town I was noticed. I had my pick of women too and, while I had not been married, there were many women willing, and I had my share of pussy whenever I wanted it. I liked the power that my position brought me in that regard; and as a single man in my forties, I was fucking more regularly than most married men. In all, things were perfect in so many ways, and I really did not see how they could be much better.

I also loved my work. Overseeing slaves was very enjoyable for me, and there is nothing like the power you feel when you have control and another’s fate is in your hands. The plantation was huge, and if you counted the young boys, there were more than seventy-five slaves who fell under my control. I told them what to do, and they did it. Of course, I had power to punish them if they refused me, and I was not afraid to whip their naked bottoms if it was necessary. And, of course, it was also my job to castrate them whenever the master wanted it done, and the slaves were aware of that and there was certainly a respect from them that comes with that knowledge. I liked the feeling, and I liked taking their balls. It was just one part of my job, but it was a part of my job that I truly enjoyed, although that seems so strange looking back on it now. I was a self-taught cutter, but I did all right, and I sure did enjoy nutting the slaves.

Unfortunately, it was too rare an occurrence because most of our eunuchs were purchased from the yards with their scrotums already emptied. Trayton kept some for the house where they cooked and served the master’s family. The majority of his other slaves were allowed to keep their balls, which kept them stronger and thus served the needs of the plantation better. Still, there were times when a slave was on the receiving end of the master’s anger and, when that occurred, more than not the slave would end up without his balls. The newly created eunuchs would usually be returned to the market and sold, though a few were kept to do other chores.

On the south side of the plantation, near the stream that defines the southern border, were the slave-huts, and that is where they lived and rested. There was a breeding-hut there as well because Trayton would on occasion set up a pair for breeding when he foresaw a need for new slaves but saw no advantage in the purchasing of them. I think it was more of a hobby for him, but he liked breeding stock and he was careful in his methods. Of course, it takes more than twelve years once a mating has been successful before you actually have a slave that is useful, and the cost difference from making one versus buying one is not as much as you would think. Still, Trayton liked to try his hand at breeding stock, and he especially favored making blond and red-haired boys and so generally those were the type of slaves he would put to each other. The master was faithful to his wife, but he on occasion would take a boy to bed, and when he did he generally took a fancy to the red-heads, and I think he really loved pounding their holes.

One of my jobs was to oversee the breeding operation, when one was underway, and that too was very enjoyable. I found out, surprisingly enough, that many slaves will not willingly breed if they know that the children they produce will be used as bed-slaves, even if it’s the master who will be using them. So there is some resistance in them and they do not readily mount each other when told to do so. That seems strange to me because, generally, intercourse is prohibited between slaves, and daring to do so without permission can cost a slave his balls. So, when a slave is given permission and has the opportunity to breed you would think he would relish it. But, alas, they often do not. In those cases, the female must sometimes be restrained and the man forced to copulate. If it only had to be done a single time it would not be that difficult, but the enforced coupling must be accomplished daily, or at least every other day, to ensure a pregnancy. Generally, the master had me put the two together daily until the pregnancy was confirmed. That is quite a struggle to have to go through every single day, but I will admit a certain satisfaction in making it happen when it was required.

Subduing the female is always the easy part, and tying her down on her back with her legs spread is not difficult and this part usually presents no difficulty. Enforcing the male’s participation is another matter and, if resistant, then he will have to be dragged to the hut and forced over the woman. If he is not erect, then I usually have another slave grease his cock, and if you use a twisting motion of the fist when applying the grease it will usually bring on an erection no matter how much a slave protests it’s being done.

Once he’s hard, getting him tied down on top of her can be fairly difficult, but not as difficult as it used to be. In the old system we would tie them in place, and force them to do their fucking with a whip. In the past I’ve spent as much as thirty minutes before managing to insert the slave’s cock where it needed to go. Then, a while back I came up with a different method which seemed to make things easier. Instead of whipping them if they did not start fucking, I simply tied the male’s arms to two rings placed near the shoulder of the female, welded there just for that purpose. That way the male could place his hands down onto the bed, straddling her, so that the naked slave was on top of her but secured only by his wrists. I also restrained his ankles, to keep him from kicking me, but I left those ropes long and so they did not in any way interfere with the rest of him. Instead, once he was placed over her and his wrists and ankles were tied well, I would just climb onto the breeding bed and then reach up between his legs and let him feel the curved blade of my castration knife at the top of his balls. When he felt the sharpness of the blade, I told him that if he did not put his dick into her pussy, and shoot his seed deep into her vagina, and do it forthwith, I would take his balls with a single pull of the knife and find another slave who would.

I never had a slave refuse me once he felt the knife and had heard my words. No, they would fuck then! I’ve always enjoyed that, forcing them to fuck, and even if the male slave disliked the female he was put to he would fuck her just the same. I liked the power, and I’d just hold the slave’s scrotum with the knife against his balls as he did his thrusting. I think it made for a more intense fucking, the slave knowing that his performance was being graded and if he didn’t perform to my satisfaction I’d take the sac I was holding with a simple movement of the blade.

I had this one slave who fooled me for a while, fucking the woman and then pretending to spurt his seed, but faking the orgasm instead. I finally figured it out after a while, and after that I always made slaves fuck until their pricks went soft. The only way a man can do that with his cock buried deep in a pussy is to ejaculate, and once I figured that out I never had that problem again.

But, while breeding them was something I enjoyed, what I used to enjoy more than that was when I had the opportunity of actually making the pull and to take their balls. Now, I was never a licensed cutter, so what I was doing was illegal as hell, but the patriarch didn’t care, and he would have me do the nuttings and I had not found it difficult. I had no formal training, but I had learned what I needed to know by watching carefully in the slave yards, going there on the big cutting days and watching the licensed cutters do their work. I watched, and learned, and probably witnessed at least five hundred slaves being neutered.

When I was cutting the slaves I never thought it was difficult, and I certainly never gave much thought to it as a profession. As far as I could tell, cutters were being paid far more than the skill merited. I didn’t have any troubles, and my cuttings all seemed to go well, though my rates of infection were higher than those in the city; but the master accepted that because I was so much cheaper, and on those occasions when the fever would follow the nutting he did not get angry. If a slave died afterwards the master would just buy another slave and even then he did not seem too angry when it had to be done. Now, I generally only castrated when the master wanted me to, but if I had a problem with a particular slave I could tell the master about it, and ask permission to nut the perpetrator. In those instances, generally, the master would grant me permission, and so in that respect I could unman any slave I wanted to, as long as I had some reason. Of course, I had to be careful, but having the power made them all respect me, although perhaps it would be more accurate to say what they really respected was my knife.

The operation itself was fairly straightforward. After getting the slave tied into position, I just took a string of leather and made a loop, and then worked it over the doomed slave’s balls, tying it off in a double knot as tightly as I could, always near the top of his sac. After that, I made the slice, with just a quick pull of the blade, and in less than an instant I had ended his manhood, taking his entire scrotum in the blink of an eye. It was usually very easy and, like I said, I didn’t see why the licensed cutters were paid so well. In the yards there are a lot of different techniques, and some cutters take the sacs and some do not. I just thought it was easiest to cinch off their balls and make a quick pull of the knife; that was the way I did it, and it seemed to work that way and they certainly ended up castrated.

I found castrating slaves a tremendous turn-on. In fact, after I cut them I would usually be hard, and I’d often go into the city later and find a woman’s cunt to fuck. Yeah, I loved fucking a hot woman after I had nutted a man, though I’m not sure of the reason. It might have been because I knew I had taken him out of the breeding pool, literally unmanning him, and it somehow seemed appropriate to squirt my own seed deep into a pussy after having made that act impossible for another. It was like I had bested him, stolen his manhood and made him a nothing, and it seemed to drive home that point when I was pushing my own eager cock deep into a woman’s pussy after I had done it. If I could have made the slave I’d nutted watch my fucking, I think I would have done so.

Another one of my favorite games, which I played with most of the boys on the plantation, was to threaten them with what I called a “birthday castration.” I would say something like “When you turn sixteen I’m going to nut you.” Of course, they didn’t know whether I would or wouldn’t and, while it was probably a cruel thing to do, it was a power trip for me and I really enjoyed the game. It was funny to watch their expressions: they feared me and I liked it. I’d see a boy screwing around, and or acting like an idiot the way teenagers can at times, and I’d say: “I’ve had enough of your antics…when your birthday comes this year, I’m going to take your balls.” Boy, that would sure get their attention! I rarely followed through on the threat, but I threatened most of the boys some time while they were growing through puberty and they would never knew for certain whether I would carry it out.

When their birthdays came I’d usually show up at their party, or whatever celebration they were having. If I were in an especially cruel mood I’d even push the game a step farther, just because I could. On those occasions I would pretend I was really going to do it, and I’d have them tied down, as if I were actually going to castrate them. I’d have stripped them naked too, and then I’d walk right up to them, and heft their birthday balls, sometimes with the knife even in my hand. I’d reach down and feel their young scrotums and then I’d play with their poles as I fondled their balls. I’d usually do that until I had forced the sperm from their young nuts, and I thought it was so funny when that happened, especially if I made them do that in front of the other boys. After they had ejaculated, I’d drop their bags and say something like: “Well, your load’s still pretty watery, boy. I suppose I ought to let you grow some more before I nut you. Yeah, I guess it’s your lucky day, and I’m going to do you a favor lad and let you keep your balls for another year. But next year I’m going to cut them off for sure.” Then I’d let them be untied and go free. I know it was wrong, but I really enjoyed milking their sperm from their balls and scaring them to the core, sometimes so much that they would piss themselves.

God, I thought that was so funny! I loved doing that! I thought of them as the “birthday boys” and I looked forward eagerly to those days when another boy would turn a year older. It was just a game, but I played it with most of them, especially if they had hot bodies and firm asses. While I had no intention to nut most of them, on a rare occasion the game went a little farther than I planned and the boy actually did get castrated.

I remember this one boy whom I had started threatening when he was thirteen. Each year I had him tied down and forced the seed from his balls, and took the knife and laid it against his bag. Then, I pretended to change my mind, and let him go to his great relief. It was a game the boy hated, but it was hot for me. By his sixteenth year, though, I think he was used to it, if you can get used to such a thing. What he didn’t know the last time was that about a month before his sixteenth birthday he was seen with one of the female house-servants, and once I was aware of his fucking I had told the master what I knew, and recommended the boy be nutted and we make it public. He agreed, and so on the boy’s sixteenth birthday, as it was being celebrated, I had him tied down and stripped just like I had done so many times before. He wasn’t even scared, and he was actually grinning as I approached him with the knife. But then, while all of the other slave boys watched and stared, after I pumped out his seed I nutted him. He sure was surprised then! God, that was so fucking funny, and after that EVERY slave-boy feared me like never before.

He was not the first one, though. The first time I nutted a birthday boy was about five years ago. He was a blond boy, with striking blue eyes, whom I had been teasing for a while. When he was just twelve I had told him that when he turned fifteen I would take his balls as his birthday present. I kept reminding him as he grew up. When he was thirteen, I took him aside and said: “You’re growing up; in two years I’ll nut you.” Again, when he was fourteen, I whispered in his year “One year to go and you’ll be a eunuch.” As the boy grew, and the day approached, he started to get really scared. I thought it was funny, but I had planned to do the usual tie him down and then change my mind routine on his birthday; as it turned out, however, he was not there to let me do so. Instead, two days before his fifteenth birthday he ran away and, when we finally caught him a month later and dragged him back, the master had me nut him for his escape. I suppose it was wrong, but I laughed anyway as I took his balls.

Alas, I do not cut slaves anymore. And, while I still work for Trayton the job is different and I do not make the pay I did. Worse, I lost my cabin, and live now in one of the huts down by the river near the slaves who work the plantation. Still, I live on the plantation and he lets me stay. I would rather have my old job back, running the place and working the slaves, but it is not my choice to make and I have learned to accept what it is that I cannot control. But, when I was in charge, nutting the misbehaving slaves was the one thing I most enjoyed. I still enjoy watching it even now, but the interest is perhaps different from what it was when I was wielding the knife. I know that I have always enjoyed watching a man being neutered, and when it was I who had the knife I relished it even. There was no bigger power trip for me than to take the balls from a begging slave, with his legs spread wide apart by the ropes and listening to his grunting as I stole his scrotum and felt it coming free in my hand.

I didn’t get the opportunity that often, but when it did come it was something else! I did the real deballings over a hitching rail at the front of the master’s house, where the horses were tied at the end of the day. Usually, Trayton would come out to watch, and would sit on his porch and sip a drink as he stared at the slave I was castrating, watching his expression as I brought the knife into play to steal his manhood. My method was to use a couple of the bigger slaves to strip the slave to be castrated and to put him over the rail. They would tie his legs to two iron pegs we had driven into the ground for that purpose and the slave’s wrists were also tied together with rope, but one end was left long, which was then slipped through a metal ring that was attached to a third iron peg out in front of him. The loose end was pulled taut, stretching out the slave’s arms in front of him and holding him fast to the rail. After that, with his legs spread wide and his arms stretched out tight, there was nothing a slave could do to keep me from taking his balls.

I remember every single slave whom I nutted, and I cut more than forty while I worked the plantation. The very first one I did was a man by the name of Realdo. He was a big man, with a huge set of balls and a fat cock to match. I was in my twenties and he was in his forties when I nutted him. All he had done was to talk unkindly about the master to the other slaves, but he was caught doing so and the master had not been pleased. And, it was enough that Trayton ordered him unmanned. I remember his screaming as he was dragged to the rail, begging to be given another chance and apologizing intensely for what he had done. All the slaves were assembled to watch his unmanning, and then Trayton came out to watch as well. He invited some of the slaves onto the porch, and the rest watched from behind. After I had noosed the slave’s big sac and was holding the knife under the tie, Trayton used the opportunity to say: “Nobody talks about me behind my back--nobody! Take his balls and let him be an example to the others.”

Yeah, that was my first time. I was so scared I hesitated, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. When I didn’t make the cut the master had gotten angry with me and yelled “I said cut the fucker... NOW!” With that, I did it, and afterwards, after that first set of balls, I never had any hesitation again. It was a lot easier than I had thought, and the feeling of power made my own dick go hard. Yeah, when I jerked the knife that first time the big man had shuddered, and he tossed his head back and grunted out a load of sperm as I took his nuts. His cream all went wasted in the dirt while Trayton laughed, and I loved the feeling of holding his warm balls in my hand after I had taken them. It was the hottest thing I had ever done, and after that I couldn’t do it often enough. God, I loved castrating a man!

One thing that Trayton always insisted on was he always had me put the slave’s balls in a special jar of preserving fluid, which he kept on a shelf in the house as a lesson to others. He would have me squeeze out the man’s individual testicles from his severed scrotum and place them in the jar and, over the years, I added quite a few balls to it. One glance at the jar sends a strong message, and it is very clear that if you dare to fuck with the master of the house and don’t do your work to the best possible standards, your balls could end up in the jar. That lesson is not lost on anyone.

The actual opportunities to nut a slave were rare, from my perspective, but it happened, and if a slave refused to do his work, or failed to perform to the expectations of the overseer, then we’d consider taking his balls. Usually, I was made to give him a warning first, and whip his ass instead, especially if it were the first time he had caused a problem. In those cases I would stripe him well, and try and send him a strong message that he was better off to do as he was told than to resist his orders; but, if a slave failed to get the message after a session with the whip, then Trayton would have him nutted, and then normally we would sell him back to the market once he healed. We would then spend what was required to purchase another to take his place.

The slaves on the plantation were required to work hard, and if they didn’t they put their balls at risk. It didn’t matter if the work were in the fields, or involved work around the plantation. I remember once this seventeen year old Slavic boy was supposed to sand a dresser that was being refinished for the house. He did a half-assed job, and when he was done with it the surface was gouged and was uneven. That lack of effort got him dragged in and whipped thoroughly, with a strong warning that if he did not change his ways he’d end up a eunuch. He must not have believed me, because a few days after his whipping he was supposed to stain and varnish the same dresser, but he slopped it on and didn’t sand between the coats, and after it was done the piece of furniture looked horrible. When the master saw it he almost exploded. Yeah, Trayton just about came unglued and, following the dresser incident, he had just run out of patience with him. The boy just had no idea, and he didn’t even apologize before the order had been given and he was being dragged to the rail!

Of course, he apologized then and offered to sand the entire thing all over again. But Trayton was done with him, and had him lashed down instead, over the rail, and the other slaves were then assembled to watch his unmanning. Boy, he bucked his hips and fought the restraints that held him for my knife! He sure didn’t want to lose his balls! He had a nice dusting of hair over his legs, which grew up into a bush that covered his balls and surrounded his hole. Above his prickle his nest of pubic hair was thick as well, and he had the perfect body for a teenage male. The boy’s nuts hung down, swinging in the heat of the day, and his back was sweating as he waited for his castration. After he was gagged, Trayton pointed out his sloppiness to the other slaves, and made a point that such behavior from anyone would not be tolerated. He had a passion for hard work, and if you slacked off or did a piss-poor job then your days as a man were numbered. For this boy, his shoddy workmanship and lackadaisical attitude cost him his balls.

Trayton had me put the dresser right in front of him, on the porch, so he could stare at it as I nutted him and know what he was being castrated for. I noosed his nuts with the tie, and then grasped his balls and held the knife against them. He grunted, his eyes wide with the feeling of his manhood being held by another, and he bucked his hips and thrust wildly in his efforts to pull them out of my hands. I rode the motion of the boy’s ass, up and down, feeling his desperation and watching him sweat as he struggled. All the while, as he jerked and pulled against the ropes, the master talked about him, about how he didn’t deserve his balls, and all the slaves watched and certainly learned from the lesson. Finally, when Trayton was done, he simply said “All right; unman him” and I did. With a single quick pull, it was done. One second he was a struggling teenage boy, with a rock hard cock and fighting with every muscle in his body to remain a man. In the next instant, he was a eunuch. As I took his balls he screamed into his gag, and his hard cock shot out his last load of cream. He had a big load, and we all watched his ball-less cock spew out the boy’s final wad, and after that he was done. I placed his severed scrotum on the top of the dresser right in front of him, and we gave him a few minutes to look at it there before we dragged him away. Afterwards, I opened his bag and placed his balls in the master’s jar, and I remember that his balls floated, which was somewhat unusual, though they sank a few hours later and after that they were just like all the others.

Without question Trayton had zero tolerance for poor workmanship, and he was swift to punish if you didn’t do a job the way it should be done. I know because it went beyond his slaves, and even I was not immune. Still, I wasn’t a slave and I didn’t have to worry about being castrated; but he could cut my pay and he did threaten me with the whip and there is no doubt he would have used it if I had not been careful. He always had the option of firing me, and that was something I sure didn’t want to happen.

I felt he needed me though as his overseer, and I didn’t see how he could run things if he got rid of me. But, I failed to underestimate the assistant he had working under me, a young man by the name of Thomas Branton. Tommy was just a kid really, at least from my perspective. He was a red-headed freckled-faced kid, just a boy as far as I was concerned, and he looked as though he hadn’t even started shaving. His face was as smooth as it is on a ten year old. Still, he was in his twenties, yet I saw him only as a kid and certainly not as an equal. He was half my age, but what didn’t occur to me at the time was that Trayton liked red-heads in general, and he sure liked him in particular, and it also helped that the boy did work hard. But the biggest mistake, however, was that I didn’t realize that the very presence of an assistant made me replaceable and, with the way Trayton liked red-heads, the boy had things going for him that I did not. I was naïve in that sense, and just never saw it coming but just assumed my own status was secure.

I lost my job on a Saturday, when the slaves were out in the fields and things were running smoothly. I had spent the morning with the master, helping Trayton purchase a red-headed slave. The boy was seventeen, a tall lanky kid who did not look like much of a worker to me. He wasn’t cheap either, and when they wanted another 25,000 degos to cut him, the master decided instead for me to do it after we brought the boy home. I remember thinking that the boy would make a poor field-worker, and had started to recommend another when the master said “I am not buying him for the fields: I’m buying this one for the bedroom. He’s a virgin, and I plan to take his hole.” That, I remember, had caught me by surprise, and yet I appreciated the master’s confidence in me and I dared not say anything at all. I have to admit I was pretty excited at the prospect of taking his balls, even if the boy didn’t share my enthusiasm for what was going to be done to him.

It was obvious from the way the master was looking at the boy that he liked him intensely, and when we reached the plantation I was instructed to bring him straight to the bedroom to get it done. I would have preferred to nut the boy over the rail, but the master wanted this one cut in the house, out of sight of the others, and right on the bed where he planned to fuck him later. I didn’t argue, and so that is the way we did it.

The master wanted his body smooth as well, and so I had the eunuchs take care of that, plucking out his small patch of pubic hair above his prickle. Boy, he sure didn’t like that! Of course, plucking the sexual hair with pliers hurts like hell, but it usually does not grow back so quickly, and it may not grow back at all after the balls are taken. Without any question taking the hair that way makes for a much smoother feeling than if they are just shaved with a razor. I love having a boy plucked smooth! Plucking takes longer but, since we were not in a great hurry, I let them pluck him smooth. They pulled out every single strand of hair from under his arms, from around his hole, and from the crack of his ass. After we had his armpits smooth and had plucked the hair from his groin, he looked like a much younger boy. He had a wisp of red hair across his upper lip, and we left that there because the master liked it. The boy grew hard when they were pulling his hair, and all I can say thinking back on it was that the teenager’s cock was an eager one, and long and stiff, and the eagerness of his pole surprised me. It was almost as if he wanted to be castrated! Perhaps, I suppose, it was from all of the attention. Whatever the reason, by the time we had plucked his pubic area clean and made him as smooth as a ten-year-old, he was extremely stiff and his cock was ready for action.

The master was eager to have him nutted, and once he was smooth I didn’t hesitate to do it. I took a string of leather, made the loop, and brought it up and over the boy’s balls. As I was doing this the master said to me: “Make it high: I want a smooth groin, and I don’t want anything left other than his wilted cock after he’s been nutted.”

Perhaps that’s why I made the loop so high…I’m not sure. But I did make the knot high up on his scrotum, so high up that I bunched up the skin at the top of his sack and right where it came out of his body. I made two overhand knots and cinched them tight, and then as the boy begged me and grunted into the rag stuffed down his throat, I hefted his tied-out sack and laid the knife up against his balls. He bucked his hips and grunted in his desperation and, as he did so, his cock ejaculated. I had not expected it, but he shot out quite a lot of jism onto his belly, and the master had me pause and pump his cock until his nuts had no more sperm to shoot. His teenage wad of cream was in a round little puddle there on his belly, a final testament to his lost potential I suppose. Clearly, the boy would never father a child, and that seemed a waste but it wasn’t for me to question. Of course, with his last seed squirted onto his stomach, it was time to take his balls.

I laid the knife up under the tie, about an inch below the knot the way I always did, but the master said: “Make the cut higher on this one: I don’t want to feel even a stub where his scrotum was after he heals. I want him totally smooth; yeah, totally smooth and with a lifeless cock.”

God! Well, what the master wanted I was determined to deliver. I pushed the knife right up against the string, as close to it as I had ever done, and then I jerked it, and as I did so the teenager’s nuts came off in my hand while he screamed into his gag. Trayton laughed, and the boy grunted loudly, and his eyes went wide, and then he thrashed violently against his restraints, bucking his ball-less hips up and down and up and down, almost as if he were trying to fuck something while his cock was still hard and capable. Whatever the reason, as he struggled, he jerked violently with his hips, up and down and up and down. He thrashed out so wildly that the rope around his left ankle came undone, and he jerked his free leg upward then and kicked it outward as he arched his back and grunted. As he was struggling like a man going to the gallows the entire bed was shaking, and then, suddenly, the tie came off, and when it did there was a gasp from the boy, and the master screamed. In an instant blood was everywhere! I had no idea what to do. The master started yelling, screaming at me to stop the bleeding, and I tried to tie another string around the spot where his balls had been but it wasn’t possible. There was only this gapping wound at that point, and there wasn’t even a bit of skin left to try and gather in order to close the wound. I was suddenly in very big trouble, and the blood was flooding out and I could not stop it. I screamed, panicked really, and had no idea what to do.

“Don’t lose him! Don’t you dare lose him, you fool!” the master yelled. Oh God, what could I do? I had no inkling, and still the blood came in a torrent and, in the end, all I could do was to rip the master’s expensive sheets from the bed and stuff them between the boy’s legs, trying desperately to stem the bleeding that way. I tried to hold them tight against him but they just became soaked with his blood, and a few minutes later the boy passed out and I knew I was losing him. The master was furious, and called for the house-maidens’ aid, and I just kept pushing the sheets into his groin as they turned red one after the other. The boy was dying, and I was killing him. Suddenly, the master said “GET THAT BUTCHER OUT OF HERE!!!” and a couple of the plantation slaves whom he had summoned just grabbed me and pulled me from the unconscious boy, dragging me away while the house-maidens took my place. Tommy was there by then, trying to help and I was protesting, apologizing profusely, and begging the master with all that I had.

“Trayton … please … oh, I’m SORRY! OH GOD I’M SORRY!” but he ignored my pleas and I had never seen him more angry. I tried to fight the eunuchs holding me, but the master yelled again: “I SAID GET HIM OUT OF HERE!”

One of the guards asked then “Where do you want us to take him sire?” and he yelled back “I DON’T CARE—JUST GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT! HELL, TAKE HIM TO THE PEN, AND PUT A GUARD ON HIM! NOW! DO IT NOW!!!” Oh, God; they just dragged me out of the house then, and before I knew what was happening I was placed in the plantation’s holding pen, which we primarily used as a place to keep misbehaving slaves before their punishments were carried out. As they were taking me away from the bleeding boy, and just before I was pulled from the bedroom, I heard the master order Tommy to hitch the best horse and to go to Ayzintion for help as fast as he could.

Of course, the boy didn’t have a chance in hell as far as I could see it. The plantation is an hour from the main city and the boy was bleeding-out right in the master’s bed and if he weren’t dead already he certainly would be. I knew the cause was hopeless. They had taken me away so fast that I hadn’t had time to warn him of the danger, but the master was too angry to be thinking clearly, and with Tommy heading to town I was very worried about what would follow. Certainly, bringing in the authorities from town didn’t seem a good idea to me. Yet, I hadn’t been asked, and now I was in the pen and with a guard at the door and unable to talk to anyone!

The holding pen as we called it was really just a stone storage room with an iron door, and I had ordered dozens of slaves to be held there over the years I had run things. Usually, they spent a few hours there until I was ready for them, and then they would be dragged out, stripped of their pants, and then tied down over a barrel and their naked asses lashed with the whip. Depending on the seriousness of their crime, the lashing could be something as simple as six cuts on the buttocks, to an hour long session that would leave their bottoms shredded like raw hamburger. I had never been in the holding pen, of course, and I could not believe that he had put me there. Still, I knew he was mad as hell, and all I could do at that point was to wait for his anger to subside, and hope he was not going to have me whipped for what I had done.

I ended up spending three days in that pen, with the plantation’s eunuchs taking turns guarding the door. Worse, I wasn’t told anything, and I had no idea whether the boy were alive or dead or what was happening. I demanded to see the master, and when that failed I demanded to talk to my assistant, but my demands went unheard and the guards ignored whatever I told them to do. I was also very worried about what had happened. I knew I wasn’t a licensed cutter, and if the master did actually bring in the authorities then there was a good possibility I could be found out, and that did not bode well for me. Still, there was nothing I could do about any of it, but just wait in the pen. Then, as I was staring out of the barred door on the third day, I finally saw Tommy, coming my way, and was indescribably relieved. But my relief turned to trepidation when I saw whom he had with him. At his side were two officials from the city, both wearing the council seal of authority, and when I saw them my heart started pounding.

As Tommy came to the door I was there at the bars, and I said “Thank God you came; please, get this door open and let me out of here!” He just looked at me, like a rancher looks at a barnyard animal, and then he said very bluntly “I’m running things now, and the master wants you here. You broke the law, and these men are here to make sure you are punished for doing so. You’ll be staying in the pen until they are ready for you.”

What the fuck? I gasped, the reality of what he had said hitting me and shocking me to the core. If the boy was dead they might well execute me. And if he weren’t… Oh God then they would almost certainly castrate me! Before I could say anything, he turned to the officials and said: “This is the one who cut the boy. The master would like you to do it here, and he doesn’t see the need to take him to town.” The officials nodded, and stared at me, and suddenly I became very afraid. Tommy then turned to me and said: “You’re lucky that the boy didn’t die! Somehow, he was still alive when Carlos got to him, and he performed a miracle, no thanks to you. He cauterized the mess you made and somehow saved him. But it was really close and the boy only yesterday regained consciousness.”

I stared at the men staring at me. They were looking at me with a look of disgust, like I was just a piece of garbage to be thrown into the pit. My voice broke, and I begged them: “Please, oh please! I didn’t mean to do any harm. I really didn’t! All I did was what I was told!”

One of them looked at me and shook his head, and then he said: “Well, it doesn’t matter what you meant to do, or not do, or even who asked you to do it. You cut a boy without a license, and for that, you will be punished. You don’t deserve your balls.”

My voice cracked, and I said: “I’m sorry! Please, OK … whip me … punish me with the whip! I know I made a mistake, but please … I just made a simple mistake! It was an accident! Not my balls! Please … whip me! WHIP ME, PLEASE, BUT DON’T TAKE MY BALLS! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

The guard looked at me and said: “Whip you? No; we aren’t going to whip you. What you did was no accident, and the council wants you castrated. You know the law, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You deserve to have your balls cut from your bag, and I guarantee you, that is exactly what’s going to happen.”

Then they all turned and walked away! OH FUCK! They were going to take my balls after all! Of course I was scared shitless then, and he was certainly right: I had known the penalty for cutting without a license. But, of course, I never thought I would get caught, and the truth was that lots of overseers cut their master’s slaves. The authorities know it too, but as long as nobody gets hurt they look the other way. No! It didn’t seem fair! OH GOD! As I was contemplating what they were going to do to me my mind drifted to a week earlier, when I had nutted a blond boy of German descent. Oh, how he had screamed from the pain and begged me to let him stay a man! I had laughed at him, and then after I had nutted the boy and had my fun I had gone to town and fucked a woman all night long. Yeah, as I was thinking of her pussy and how wet and hot it had been, it occurred to me that the memory was going to be my last and final fuck. No! I would never fuck a pussy again! That hit me like a punch in the gullet. They were really going to castrate me! OH NO!

I went to the iron door and begged the eunuch guard to summon the master, hoping he would talk to them and make a deal. The council would listen to him! I had been a hard worker for him, for many years, and it just didn’t seem fair to be sitting in the pen waiting to be unmanned like a slave! I had only done his bidding for God’s sake! But the eunuch guard didn’t move, or even answer my request.

I panicked, and shook the bars in my frustration. The eunuch guarding my cell laughed when I did that, and then he said: “It’s not that bad: once they take your stones you’ll get used to their being gone. Things that bother you now won’t bother you anymore. But, when it’s being done, it’s going to hurt like hell and there is no way to prepare for that. If I were you, I’d pump your cock while you can still make it hard, and enjoy the feeling of spurting out your seed while you still have seed to squirt.”

I looked him in the eye, and he stared back at me. His blue eyes were striking, and there was a moment of recognition. God, he had grown up, and looked different, but not that different. I remembered him well. He was the slave who had run away at fifteen, the one whom I had threatened on each of his birthdays and then had actually cut off his balls when he had been caught running from fear. He still had many of his boyish features and, while he had to be twenty now, he still had the smooth face and lanky body of a boy, and his voice sounded like that of an adolescent. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, but it was him, and now he was guarding me!

He saw the recognition in my eyes, and then he said: “You cut me, five years ago, and when you did you laughed. You thought it was so funny to unman me, and all because I ran from your knife. Well, when they take your balls I’ll be laughing at you this time. In fact, all the slave boys are anxious to watch you lose your balls. They have feared you long enough, and it will be a good day when your stones are taken and you are no longer a threat to them.”

I turned away, unable to look at him; the shame of what I had done coming back to me. I was so fucking scared, and I started to look over the cell to see how I might make good my escape. The walls were stone and the door was made of iron. The bars were solid, and without someone helping me I knew I wouldn’t be able to prevent what was being planned. I looked back at the guard, and thought about bribing him, but his eyes were cold and I knew by just looking at him that he would never help me get away no matter what I offered him. No, he was clearly looking forward to my castration, and he certainly would not help me escape it. I was fucked!

An hour or so later, I moved to the far side of the pen, but the eunuch still stared at me through the bars. I had to piss, so I turned away from him, facing the wall, and then I slid down my trousers and took my cock in my hand. I pissed against the wall and, when I had finished, I hesitated, holding onto my cock--holding it, feeling it. I cupped my balls, and felt the hairs there. I was aware of my bag in ways I had never experienced before. Oh God, I didn’t want to lose my balls! I knew the guard was watching me as I pissed, and I looked over my shoulder and saw that he was grinning. I hesitated, humiliated. Then he said: “Go ahead, jerk it. Jerk your cock! After they take your balls it won’t take long before it won’t get hard any more. You might as well jerk it while you can.”

I looked away from him, ashamed. I was so humiliated, but he was right, and I wanted to pump out my wad one more time. I hadn’t come in a week, since I had fucked the woman, and I needed it. I don’t know... it just seemed something I needed to do, to have the feeling perhaps one more time, even if I were being watched. I knew the boy I had castrated was staring at me, and it was humiliating; but, nevertheless I felt the need and, knowing it was going to be taken from me, I wanted to feel it one more time. And so, I pumped my cock; and as I slid my skin up and down it grew stiff. Soon, I was getting into it, my pole eager, wanting to shoot, and my balls were soon churning like they do just before you shoot your wad. I ignored the eunuch then, and pumped my meat faster and faster and faster, and pretty soon there was nothing on earth but my cock and my fist and my fist and my cock. God it felt so good! I was going to ejaculate! YESSSSSSSS!

Just before I could, I suddenly heard a loud bang, and as I looked towards the sound the door swung open and there I was, with my stiff dick in my hand, staring at a group of men coming into the pen. I quickly stopped what I was doing and tried to move away from them, tripping over my pants in the process. It was time!

I fell over on my back, and they just reached down and grabbed me, my pants still down to my knees and my stiff dick bobbing up and down, and there they were laughing as they dragged me out. There were six of them, six officials from the city, and they all looked serious. I was totally mortified! I had been caught right in the act of masturbating, and they were dragging me with my cock poking upward from my body, the big end clearly distended, round and purple and the single eye weeping with precum. OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!

They thought it was so damn funny too, and they laughed and made lots of comments on the hardness of my erection and how my days of jacking my cock were over. Before I even knew what was happening I was pulled toward the well, where one of the big wash basins from the house had been filled with water. As they were dragging me my pants slid further down to my ankles, and then came off, and after that I was wearing only my shirt. When we reached the tub of water, I was stripped of that too and, with six of them working on me, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Once I was naked, I was tossed into the tub, and then while some of the men took hold of my arms others used strong bristle brushes on my skin, scrubbing me from one inch to the other. I never bothered washing the boys I nutted, but whoever was running the show wanted me cleaned, and so it was done.

The strong lye soap burned like hell, but they didn’t care, and I was scrubbed thoroughly from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. My balls and cock got special attention, and I almost ejaculated when they were soaping up my pole and sliding their fist up and down my rock hard shaft. My cock stayed hard throughout the washing, and I thought I was going to cum and I almost did several times. Each time just before I would shoot they would turn the brush to a new area, but then they would come back a few minutes later and re-soap up my pole and work the suds through my pubic hair. God, they purposely kept me hard!

When they were done I was pulled from the tub and held down on my back, and then they took the pliers to me and jerked out my pubic hair without any mercy, pulling it in little clumps one bunch at a time just as I had ordered for the boy I had cut. God, that hurt! They plucked the hair from my groin, and up between my legs, and even around my hole. They took the hair from my chest, and my armpits, and from everywhere except for my head. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, and yet I was powerless to do much about it but to live through the experience. If my cock started to wilt, one of them would hold it and work on the hairs on my scrotum, sliding his fist up and down and making sure I stayed rock hard.

The result was that as they plucked me smooth, my cock grew even harder. I don’t think it had ever been as big as it was then. Shit! When they were finally done, they soaped me all up and washed me again, and then rinsed me off with buckets of water. Finally, satisfied I was clean, they tied my wrists together and grabbed me by the arms, and before I knew it I was being pulled back toward the master’s house, naked and as smooth as the day I had been born, with my cock as stiff as an iron rod.

I tried to will down my erection but it bobbed with an eagerness I cannot describe, and the end of it glistened with precum. God, I was hard, even as I was being taken to the rail! As they dragged me to it, I could see the slaves assembled there, to watch my unmanning, and the master was there as well and so was Tommy. It was a large crowd, and it was obvious everyone had come to watch my unmanning. I started to struggle, but it was useless, and they just dragged me right up to the very rail I had used so many times before, and tossed me over it, running the loose end of the rope through the ring that was there waiting for it. Seconds later my ankles were trussed out wide and tied to the iron posts in the ground, and after that I was helpless. My boner jutted underneath me, parallel to the ground and as stiff and as hard as it had ever been!

God, they had my legs stretched wide! I knew they were staring at me, and my back and my ass and my rock-hard dick, and of course my hanging scrotum, wherein my two balls were hanging, now waiting to be stolen. God, I didn’t want to lose my balls! Nevertheless, I resolved myself to act tough, and I also promised myself then and there not to beg no matter what. But then, when the master came up to me my voice cracked, and I immediately forgot my promise and started begging even though I didn’t want to.

I was so fucking desperate and he was my only chance. I begged him with all that I had: “OH, GOD … Trayton … please. I’ve worked for you a long time. It was just one mistake … just one. Please don’t let them take my balls! They will listen to you! Help me for God’s sake, and don’t let them do this to me! PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU! DON’T LET THEM CASTRATE ME!”

But, for an answer, he put his hand on my ass, and slid his finger along my crack, toying with the entrance to my bowels. I gasped, feeling his finger there at the puckered entrance, and then, with a push, he slid his middle finger right into my hole. I gasped, totally shocked, and as he finger fucked my rectum he said: “Do not call me Trayton again. You will refer to me from now on only as “master”, or “sir”, and nothing else. After you’ve been nutted you will live with the slaves in a hut by the river, and work as a hand at minimum pay until you have earned back all that you have cost me. The boy you butchered has been very expensive to save, and it will take you several years to pay your debt to me. After that you will no longer work for me. For now, I will allow you a place to live, and feed you, but you will work hard and earn the money that you owe. I have never tolerated poor performance, not from my slaves, and not from you. Thomas is handling your job now, and I am already pleased with the change. For the present, I suggest you calm down and prepare yourself. Everyone is anxious for you to be castrated, and I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

He was behind me, and I looked forward, arching my back as he probed my insides. As I stared straight ahead onto the porch, I noticed the boy, the red-headed slave boy I had nutted. He was pale, and sitting in a chair across from me, dressed in sleeping clothes and with a blanker draped over his knees. He looked weak, but he was watching me, staring at me without any expression, and it was clear to me he was not disappointed to see me waiting to be unmanned. No!

My voice cracked, and I begged the man I used to be the overseer for: “Oh, ohhhh, please. Please don’t. I don’t want to lose my balls. I only did what you asked me to!”

The master started massaging my prostate with a vengeance then, and I grunted, and my cock twitched up and down, the feeling in my balls so intense it was almost as if they were boiling with desire. My cock literally twitched up and down, and from somewhere inside of me a small bit of semen began to ooze out the tip of my dick, forced out from the stimulation he was giving me. As that was happening, he continued to talk to me: “You’re embarrassing yourself here! Don’t you dare try to blame me for your incompetence! Look at your cock; you always got hard when a boy was being cut, but you’re even harder now that it’s your own balls being taken. Well, no matter, I think your cock knows you deserve it, even if you do not. You almost killed a boy. You butchered him for God’s sake!

Well, you certainly know the penalty of cutting without a license, and your punishment is out of my hands. Just be glad the boy didn’t die, and be happy it’s only your balls you are losing. You don’t deserve them, and you should know it. I suggest you just grit your teeth and let it be done, and don’t fight to keep what you do not deserve. Frankly, I’m looking forward to watching you pay for what you did to the boy here.”

He slid two fingers into my ass then, and my voice cracked, and I pleaded “OH, OH… YOU’RE FUCKING ME! PLEASE… PLEASE DON’T! DON’T FUCK MY ASS! OH GOD. OH.... OHHHH. OH. OH. PLEASE… PLEASE DON’T LET THEM CASTRATE ME! I WANT TO KEEP ’EM. PLEASE LET ME KEEP MY BALLS!”

He laughed, and probed deeper with his fingers, and then he said: “Your virgin hole is tight. Well, we might have to fix that. I learned yesterday that you have been making a game of teasing the teenage slave-boys by promising to nut them when their birthdays come. That's a terrible thing to do to a boy, and I think you owe them something for the game you've played. Perhaps, opening your hole and giving them some pleasure would make a more fitting birthday present than pretending you were going to nut them? What do you think? You certainly owe them something!”

He pushed in a third finger then, and I tossed my head back and my eyes went wide. OH GOD HIS FINGERS WERE SO DEEP IN MY ASS! He paused then, his question hanging in the air, hesitating, probing so deep now. He moved his fingers even more deeply, it seemed, and faster too as he fucked my hole with a vengeance. I gasped; the stimulation was causing my cock to twitch up and down, the end flaring. My balls started to churn. Oh, GOD. I was going to cum! I moaned, the feeling building, and I was on the verge of ejaculating. He could sense it I think, and he paused then, and let the feeling subside.

He looked skyward for a second, thinking, and then he turned back to me and said through grinning teeth, putting his fingers in motion one more time:: “Yes, I'll tell you what you will do. I think you like having your hole fucked! Listen to you moan! Yeah, you like it all right! Well, every time one of the boys has a birthday, you will come by the house and join the party. I’ll let you show the boys your balls in the jar, and after that, you can spread your legs and open your hole for the birthday boy and his friends and they can take turns fucking you. Does that sound fair? And fun? You might even enjoy their teenage cocks more than my fingers. The boys will no doubt be horny, and I’m sure your hole will be most appreciated. If nothing else, at least you will be giving them something to look forward to on their birthdays instead of something to fear from you.”

I started to cry. He not only wanted me nutted, he wanted me to be completely humiliated both now and into the future! My balls were boiling, and everyone was watching and listening. I was on the very verge of ejaculating, the feeling out of control, and then, just before I started to shoot out my wad, the master pulled his fingers out of my hole with a pop, leaving my cock bouncing up and down and twitching with the feeling. The end was purple and flared, and the entire end of it was shiny, glistening with precum. I was right on the verge, but just not quite there. The master slapped my ass with his hand, and then he said: “You don’t deserve the pleasure. If you want to cum, you can do it when you feel the knife and he takes your balls!”

Then, he wiped his hands on a small white rag that had been moistened and I assumed was there for that purpose.. When he finished cleaning his fingers, he set the rag on the top of my back, just above my ass, and leaving it there he went around me and climbed up onto his porch, so that he was seated in front of me and next to the boy I had almost killed. The tossed the red-headed boy’s hair, and gave him a hug. The master was grinning, eager even, waiting with anticipation for me to be nutted. It was a terrible feeling!

Just then I heard a scrape-scrape-scrape sound, and when I looked to my left I saw the cutter! Carlos was here. Carlos! The most famous cutter in all of Ayzintion! He was working a small knife over a stone, manually sharpening his blade that would soon unman me. He was dressed in his trademark crisp white shirt, that shimmered in the sun, and he was concentrating on the knife and checking the sharpness of the blade. I struggled, jerking with all my strength to pull free of the bonds that held me there, waiting, my legs spread wide and my dangling scrotum hanging there in the heat of the day just for Carlos and his knife. No! Suddenly, I totally panicked, and I struggled to get away with all that I had. I fought desperately, and as I was struggling I heard several of the slaves laugh at my struggles, and I could feel my scrotum swinging beneath my legs. OH GOD I WAS REALLY GOING TO BE CASTRATED!

Then, Carlos finished with the stone, and turned toward me and began to come my way. The crowd grew quiet, and Carlos approached the rail, his creased white shirt and black pants giving him the impression of a professional. The crowd parted and let him through to me. I knew he had the skill to do it, and there was little doubt I was going to lose my stones. As I watched him approaching my cock was drooling a string of clear semen that was hanging down from the tip and swinging as I moved. It must have been forced from my balls by the master’s fingers in my hole, and the entire end of my cock was engorged and purple. I was about to be castrated, and yet for some fucking reason I was so damned hard!

Of course, I had always had an erection when I had cut a slave, but it seemed so damn strange to get a boner when it was my own balls about to be taken. Nevertheless, I hadn’t lost my erection since I had started masturbating back in the pen, and everyone watching seemed to enjoy the fact I was so eager and stiff. As Carlos approached the rail to steal my stones, my cock got even harder, though that hardly seems possible, and the end flared, and a long strand of semen was drooling out the tip of my cock, swinging in the sun. It grew longer, and finally dropped clear and made a small wet spot in the dirt between my legs. Another bead of semen seemed to anoint the tip and then it too dripped off. My cock was leaking sperm! God. I thought I was going to ejaculate just from the intensity of the moment. Everyone noticed how hard I was, and I was so humiliated I wanted to die.

Carlos too noticed the stiffness of my pole, and he said: “You’ve got a randy cock, eager perhaps to be free from its balls. I can assure you it won’t be so excited once they are gone.”

Carlos didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Unlike when I nutted a slave, he was just taking his time, working slowly and methodically. He knew exactly what he was doing. In his hand he was carrying a small pot of charcoal that was glowing red hot. One of the blond slave boys was there, a fifteen year old by the name of Markus. Like most of the boys on the plantation, I had played my game with him too, recently threatening to tie him over the same rail when he turned sixteen. Now, it was I over the rail instead! As I looked at him it suddenly occurred to me that the boy’s birthday was coming up soon, but this time instead of holding a knife against his balls and making him piss from fear, on his sixteenth birthday his teenage cock might well be ramming my hole. NO!!!

As I looked at the teenager, with the wisp of hair just barely starting to sprout across his upper lip, I could see the bulge in his pants, and he was clearly excited to see me about to be castrated. I could make out the outline of his cock, and it was a fat cock and the length of it filled his pants. Looking at the size of his rod stuffed in his pants I sure didn’t want it in my ass! OH, GOD, IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN THOUGH! Suddenly, I was envious of him, of his stiff cock and his teenage balls, and it occurred to me that he was far more of a man right now, in the middle of puberty, than I was ever going to be again. It was not a good feeling, and the knowledge that he would almost certainly be fucking me when in just a few weeks time made it even worse.

In the boy’s hand he was holding the jar, and there were a lot of balls in the liquid, all from the young men I had cut over the years. It was plainly obvious that there was plenty of room for another set though, and it occurred to me that I was going to be adding my own nuts to the collection in a very few minutes. No! He was also holding a small bowl from the kitchen, and I knew it was filled with salted water. In the liquid Carlos had a couple of red gut strings soaking in the brine, and as the boy walked behind me I looked forward, down at the ground in front of me. For some reason I just couldn’t look over my shoulder at the pubescent teenager any longer, and what Carlos was going to do to me.

Suddenly, I could see every blade of grass, in ways I had never noticed them before. Individually, they were all different, in subtle shades of green. I noticed too, for the first time, that there was actually a small little circle where the grass was greener, right in front of me and between my legs, and as I was studying the lushness of the growth there it occurred to me that this was the very spot where so many slaves had shot out their last loads of cream as I had stolen their balls. Their sperm had literally fertilized the grass! God!

As hard as I was and as close to cumming as I was I sure didn’t want to shoot my load in front of the crowd! And yet, I knew my own balls were full, and having jerked myself almost to the point of orgasm not very long before and after the stimulation from the master’s probing finger in my ass, my nuts were churning even now. I was on the verge of ejaculating! God. My cock had never been stiffer or more eager in my entire life.

Then, suddenly, in a total surprise I felt Carlos heft my balls! “ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” I screamed in fear, and bucked my hips in desperation. That generated quite a big of laughter. My voice cracked, and I couldn’t help myself: “OH, Carlos… OH DON’T! DON’T! Please, don’t… don’t do this to me!”

Carlos said very quietly, “Gag him.”

No! Two of the officials came forward, and one of them grabbed my head and pulled it backwards, and before I knew what was happening they stuffed the little white rag the master had set on my ass into my mouth, the same rag the master had used to wipe his hands after he had finger-fucked my rear. As I tasted my own hole I grunted, and shook my head, and I almost vomited but there was nothing I could do about it. I nearly retched when I tasted it. I bit down on it and screamed in fear, as it was clearly going to happen now and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I shook the restraints then, and pulled on the ropes that held me down with every muscle in my body. I know the sweat was glistening off of me, and yet no matter how hard I struggled it didn’t do any good at all.

I tried to scream out and beg, but I could only get out a muffled set of grunts, and nothing I could say after that could be heard. I was so damn afraid! I didn’t want to lose my balls! I know I was fucking the rail in a way, humping it as I fought to get loose, and I could hear the laughter as my hips bucked up and down and up and down. But I just couldn’t stay still and let him just take my balls!

Suddenly, I felt heat on my scrotum, and I looked down between my legs and Carlos had positioned the pot of coals there, resting it on a short little stool which placed the pot close to my nuts. It was hot enough that it was warming up my bag. In the coals there was a steel tool, like a round knife, and it was glowing red and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I never used hot irons when I had cut the slaves I had done, but Carlos was clearly doing me in a different way from the way I had operated.

My balls started to sag from the heat, and I felt so damn exposed! Carlos was still taking his time, not hurrying at all, and he hefted my balls again and felt them, teasing out the individual stones and feeling the roundness of each individual orb. I grunted and shook with fear as he was doing so. There was nothing I could do to stop him! Instead, I stared out past my boner at the crowd on the porch that was staring at me. Of course, behind me, behind Carlos, the rest of the crowd was watching my balls, staring at my hole and my scrotum and watching with eager faces, each anxious to see me unmanned. I know my face was beet-red, and I think the humiliation of knowing they were all there watching me being castrated was almost as bad as actually having it done.

Carlos then started to speak to me, as he held my bag and fondled my stones. “So; you dared to cut your master’s slaves without a license. Well, you knew the risks, and yet you took them anyway. I suspect you enjoyed the power, and I also suspect you liked your work. Well, you will be an example, and hopefully the message your castration will send will in time save others from your kind of butchery. I personally think you deserve to be castrated, and I’m looking forward to making an example of you. You have no business cutting a boy if you do not know how. But, if you are going to do it, you need to do it right. So, today, I’m going to give you a free lesson.”

My eyes were wide open, the fear then so intense it cannot be described. Carlos continued to talk: “The first important thing is to clean the man you intend to nut, so that his body smells of soap and there is no dirt anywhere. Scrub his skin thoroughly, and use stiff bristle brush and the strongest soap you can find. If you take the time to do that your infection rates will be much lower than they otherwise would be. If it makes no difference, take the man’s hair around his groin as well, so the soap can get him cleaner and it is a better way to do it.”

“The second important thing is to tie the man you are going to nut well, so that he cannot move when you take his balls. If he struggles too violently, he may tear open his wound. Do you feel how you are tied now? I have your legs stretched so wide your hole is open, and your arms are stretched out so far that you can hardly move. There is nothing you can do to prevent me from castrating you, nothing at all. When its time to take your balls, you can jerk and pull and struggle all you want, but no matter what you do you won’t be able to prevent my taking what it is I want. And, when you feel the knife and the pain comes in a wave, even then, when you try and pull with all your strength, it won’t make any difference at all. So, the first thing is to ensure he is clean, and the second is to always make sure you tie the man you want to castrate very well, and as tightly as you possibly can.”

I grunted, and struggled, but Carlos was right and I really couldn’t do anything. I smelled of soap, and I was totally drawn out, spread eagle and exposed, and now I was just waiting for him to take my manhood and there was nothing at all I could do to prevent it.

Then Carlos said: “They say a personal lesson is the best way to learn. Pay attention, and I’ll share with you some secrets of my trade. Normally, I charge a heavy price to teach what I know, but in your case I’m going to do it for free. After you have scrubbed the man’s cock and balls, and tied the man down well, the next thing you need to do is to assess the man you are going to nut, to determine how far into manhood he is and what is the status of his stones. To do that properly you need to take your time and feel out his balls. Can you feel my fingers on your stones now?”

As he asked the question I felt a sharp pain in my right ball, and at the same time he was squeezing my left orb as well. I grunted loudly and shook my head up and down. He continued: “Good; of course you can. It’s not a good feeling for you, naturally, but it will be a worse feeling when your bag is empty and you have no stones to be felt. Remember, before you nut a man you need to see how far into manhood he is, as it will determine the placement of the tie, the kind of string to use, and the need for any extra locking knots. As I feel your testes I can tell that your left ball is slightly larger than your right, but both of your orbs are fully grown, and from the eagerness in your cock and the tightness in your scrotum you are obviously full of cream and I suspect it has been several days since you have last shot your seed.”

He hefted my sac, weighing it in his hands, and then he continued: “You can tell a lot when you feel a man’s balls. For boys still going through puberty, you can tell how far along they are by the size of the testicles within their bags. If they are small, then the knife will slice through their cords like butter, but the skin may tear easily and the knot may not hold if you are not careful. For boys you want to use a blue gutstring, because it has some stretch to it and it’s more likely to hold. For a boy in the middle of puberty, I recommend you use two strings one above the other and tie them tightly, so that you can be assured they will hold and not come loose as he struggles and thrusts upwards with his groin. But for a grown man with big testes, like yours, they will be much tougher and it’s especially critical then to make sure your blade is razor sharp. These kind of balls can be tied with a single string, but use one of the red ones, because it can be jerked more tightly and will hold solidly. Your skin is tougher, and it will tend to bunch up and hold the knot well, though, and the chance for problems is less. Feeling your stones, I do not think there will be any problem in slicing them out of your bag. In fact, castrating you should be easy and your balls are clearly ready for it to be done.”

I grunted as he was feeling my stones, and shook my head side to side, begging him in the only way I could. As I struggled and listened to him talk about my balls I felt him working his fingers through my bag. Everyone was grinning, and I could tell they were happy to know Carlos was finally feeling my stones and preparing to take them. I just wanted to die! It was so humiliating, and yet even worse was knowing that as hard as I struggled he was still feeling my bag, and my jerking and thrusting wasn’t causing him any difficulties at all. He was clearly going to nut me and I was powerless to prevent it!

I think by this time the crowd of slaves had grown even more, until virtually all of them were there, sitting around in a circle watching Carlos fondle my scrotum. They were straining to see, some sitting on the ground, others kneeling, and still others standing, straining their necks to watch the action. They sure were anxious to see me castrated! Several of the younger boys were sitting on the edge of the porch, staring at my face and my dripping cock and listening to Carlos talk to me. God; most of them I had promised to nut on their birthdays, and now, looking at them, I was so ashamed, and yet I was powerless to do anything but stare out into space at them, and feel his fingers as they worked over my balls, playing with them, toying with them, waiting to take them with a slice of his knife.

The boys seemed eager, and as I looked at them and thought of the master’s words I did not want them to fuck my hole, and yet I knew that it would happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it. They had heard his words too of course, and now they were grinning and their fear of me was gone. In its place there was only eager anticipation. Jeremy was fourteen, and would turn fifteen in two months time. Leif was sixteen, and would be seventeen in a month. Michael’s birthday was coming up in about four months! OH, GOD; there would be a string of birthday celebrations! Gregory was grinning, and as I stared at the twelve-year-old staring at me I had the thought that he would be thirteen in just a week! Would he fuck my hole? Oh God; the boy’s thin dick was stiff in his pants and he was obviously boned, and there was little doubt that when his birthday came his young cock would be stiff and ready. I sure didn’t want his boy-seed shooting into my hole! OH I WISH I HAD NEVER TEASED THEM! I knew the master would force me to spread my legs, just as he had promised, and with all the boys on the plantation and their birthdays coming up one after the other, my hole would be stretched regularly. NO!!! OH GOD I DIDN’T WANT TO LOSE MY BALLS!

Finally, Carlos dropped my bag then, and took one of the leather gutstrings out of the small bowl of brine water that was soaking beside the bed of coals. It was red, and thicker than the ones I typically used. As he held it up and examined it, he continued with my lesson: “Now; always use a professional string, which you can buy in the city. Avoid the cheaper ones, and make sure you select the right one based on the maturity level of the boy you are nutting. After you have examined the scrotum you intend to empty, next you need to tie it off, so that the man’s testes are cinched off and are no longer getting their blood supply. Unless the boy is very young and you are using a blue string, always use a tie you have soaked in salt water. As I said, it is very important to select one of the right color depending on the sexual maturity of the male you are nutting. Once used and the tie is in place, in a short time the wet salted leather will dry, and as it does so it will shrink by two-thirds, making the knot you make even tighter. The key to everything of course is the knot, and if you make it properly it will never come undone.”

He came around in front of me then, and as I stared at him he took the gut string and quickly formed a loop, and then as I watched he slowly tied a cinch knot, so that the loop was formed and the knot was ready. He gently pulled the ends of the string, and the loop grew a little smaller. The way he tied it was a lot different from the way I had been doing it, and his knot had an extra locking loop that formed the basis for his castration noose. When tied, it formed a little loop of leather, but the way he tied it I could see that it could only tighten but could never be loosened. I had never seen a knot quite like it, and as I watched him tie it I grew very scared.

Once he had shown me how to make the cinch knot of his trade, he carried it back behind me, and then, almost moving in slow motion, he took my balls in his left hand, and pulled down on them, stretching them in the process. I sure didn’t like that! I grunted into my gag. My nuts were his, and they were hot from the charcoal under them! By this time I knew my big sack was dangling like a bull’s sack dangles and the hot pot of coals was so close to it that my entire bag was hot to the touch. Carlos was gripping my balls, and as I felt him I started thrusting and jerking and fighting all over again, trying desperately to get away somehow before he noosed my manhood.

But, even as I bucked my hips and tried to prevent it, he slipped the wet leather noose over my nuts anyway without any great effort. No! Oh, FUCK; NO!!!!!!! I thrust forward at my hips and grunted harder, desperate to prevent what was being done to me. Then, making sure the leather chord was up tight and just below where my scrotum was attached to my body, Carlos said: “The trick on making the tie is to get it correctly positioned. You want it high up on the scrotum, without pinching the skin of the body, so that it ties off the top of the sac but nothing else. But you don’t want it so high it will come free, and it needs to have enough skin that it can be completely cinched closed. The balls also need to be in the bottom of the bag, hanging like plums, and the tie needs to be well away from them. Once it is in position, it’s a quick and simple matter to cinch it tight.”

I heard a snap and felt a sharp pain that defied description, as it shot up between my legs, and in that instant Carlos jerked the knot and cinched off my bag of stones and after that it was done. God, it hurt! I tossed my head back and grunted, the pain shooting up between my legs with an intensity far greater than I had expected. I bucked my hips and grunted even louder, and the crowd watching actually laughed. They were really enjoying themselves now!

The pain came in waves, as if I were being kicked in the groin, and then kicked again. I just couldn’t believe it, and I bucked my hips and thrust my hips forward, humping the rail as I tried to wiggle my ass and loosen the string that was killing my nuts. Fuck, it hurt! Carlos didn’t care, and then he said: “When you jerk the tie men will always struggle, just like you are struggling now, because it hurts and they do not enjoy it. If you do it right though, the blood flow is prevented, and after the tie has been made their castration has, in effect, actually begun. Your nuts are no longer being supplied with blood, so they are dying from this minute forward and that’s why they hurt so much. If we do nothing else, the pain will increase over the next hour or so, and grow to a point that will drive you insane. But, of course, the pain will end for the most part when I nut you, although I wouldn’t describe the feeling that follows as exactly one of relief.”

Then Carlos pulled down on my tied balls, testing the knot and examining my bag carefully. Then he said: “After you have noosed his balls they will usually turn bright red, and then a few minutes later the red color will turn a deeper shade and after that you will know that they are being strangled. Your nuts are already that color, and there is no doubt at all that the tie is doing its job. Once the tie is in place, you need to check the knot, and if it be still tight and ready, then you are ready to take his balls. Right now everything for you is ready, and your nuts are tied off perfectly and it’s time to dig out your stones.”

OH, GOD--HE WAS GOING TO CASTRATE ME NOW!

I looked over my shoulder in fear just in time to see him pick up the knife. I went crazy, and the look of fear on my face was so great that several of the slaves laughed at my expression. He was gong to cut me now! As he picked up the knife I felt him lay the point of it right against the side of my scrotum, the tip poking my bag just above my right ball. I looked away, down at the ground and the grass, and then suddenly and without any warning he shoved in the knife, deep and hard, and right into my scrotum until it was buried directly behind my testicle. I screamed, the pain so great it cannot be described, and then I ejaculated. I couldn’t believe it, but my dick just exploded, and even as I felt the pain and the knife and all of it beginning, my cock spurted out my goo and I felt the orgasm and is was so intense my entire body shuddered. I bucked my hips, as if I were fucking, and as I fucked the air and ejaculated, I grunted out my wad, my cock just spewing it out, even as I felt his knife behind my right nut and digging deep within my bag.

Carlos kept talking to me as I ejaculated: “Often when you put your knife in motion the man will squirt his seed, just as you are squirting yours now. It’s probably a primal need to fertilize something, even if only the dirt between your legs. If I am not in a hurry, I just let him grunt it out, and once he has finished then I will continue and take his ball. I recommend you do your castrations one ball at a time, as the danger is so much less if you steal a man’s stones one at a time.”

I grunted as I continued to shoot out the biggest load of my life. The first shot of sperm went straight out of my dick, which was pointed upward and it hit the top of my chest just below my chin. The second squirt missed my face by an inch, and end up in a line of cream out in front of me. The next shots went into the grass, spurting out my seed between my legs. I shot out a lot of jism, and the force of it surprised me.

I think I came for almost a minute, and Carlos commented: “You’ve got a big wad--really big. Seems a shame to have to nut you.”

I shook my head side to side, begging him, but with the rag in my mouth there was nothing I could do to prevent this from continuing, and he knew it and the crowd knew it and I knew it. Sure enough, as soon as I had ejaculated and stopped spurting out my sperm, I felt him twist the knife, and draw it right down the side of my sack, excising my right ball in the process. As he did that he said: “When you move the knife, make sure you make a slice behind the ball you want to take, so you can pop it out of his scrotum without a lot of hassle. You want to go in deeply enough to get the inner layer of skin, and if you do it right the man’s ball will come out on its own with a gently squeeze of his bag. There--there’s your ball now.”

I looked down, between my legs and I could see my own testicle, the grayish orb between his fingers and just outside of my scrotum. I wanted to vomit. As I was staring at what he was doing, he set the knife down on the small of my back, and picked up the rounded blade from the coals and brought it up toward my testicle. Then he said: “I recommend you use a cauterizing iron, instead of your knife, actually to steal the ball. It comes away more cleanly, and there is no blood, and it will heal better and with fewer complications.” As he said that, he gently touched the side of the red-hot rounded blade against the top of my testicle, and there was this sharp searing pain that caused me to grunt loudly, and I bucked my hips hard and shuddered. At the same instant the hot knife melted its way through the spermatic cord, and as it did so my exposed ball came free in his hand.

There was a wisp of smoke, and I screamed, and then I felt this emptiness and I looked down and suddenly he tossed my excised testicle right in front of me, in the dirt, the fat ball just laying there in the remains of my spunk.

Oh, God; I was half castrated!

He put the iron back into the little pot of coals, and then I felt him shifting my bag in his hand, and he then picked up the knife and I felt it again, this time the tip of it was pushing into the flesh of my scrotum just above my left ball. I grunted, begging him not to do it, but it was a useless gesture and I was powerless to stop anything he wanted to do. Carlos pushed in the blade, and said: “Your balls are quite big, and you do not see a set like yours every day. Yeah, you’ve got big balls, and when the man you are castrating has big testicles they are easy to find and normally not difficult to steal from him.

As for the pain of the knife, do you feel how much it hurts? Well, that’s a part of it too. The edge of the blade nearest the handle needs to be razor sharp, to be able to do what needs to be done. But the tip is better if the edge is not so keen, because you want the man you are nutting to feel his stones being taken, so he will know without any question it has been done and can better learn from the experience. If it be for a punishment, like your castration is, then it’s even more important that they feel it when you take their balls, so I take my time and make sure the knife isn’t too sharp. For a castration that is done for punishment, it also needs to go deep so it is felt with a greater intensity.

I really do recommend you do each nut one at a time, especially if you are cutting them out as punishment. He will remember it more, and the castration will be more intense, and he will feel each ball as it is stolen and that will in turn make a greater impression on him for what he did wrong. Unfortunately, you have only one more ball that I can steal, even though you deserve a greater punishment. Just be glad you were born with only two testicles.”

I screamed as I felt him move his blade, and then in a second he had filleted open my scrotum on the left side and popped out my last remaining ball. Time stood still, and I bucked my hips and grunted, struggling and pulling as hard as I could. God, it hurt so fucking much! Then, he said: “All right; it is almost done now. Feel your last moment on earth as a man--because I’m about to take your ball and after that you’ll be a eunuch.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO! EESE ONT ASTATE EEE!” I mumbled into the cloth that was stuffed in my mouth. He just laughed, along with the crowd, and then he had the hot iron again and I felt the sharp pain just like before, and as it came I tossed my head back and screamed again even more strongly. As I did my cock shot out a little bit more cream, from where I have no idea. As I spurted, he said “When you are punishing a man it’s good to make him feel it, but don’t stretch it out too long. After he’s yelled and shot his wad and you have listened to him beg, then go ahead and get it done. There; there you go. You’re a eunuch now!”

As he said that I could feel the iron take my remaining ball, and I got a whiff of the burned flesh just as the sharp pain stabbed me all over again. In less than the blink of an eye it just disappeared, and where the pain had been only a deep primal ache remained. I had been nutted!

I stared down, defeated, and all the fight left me. There was nothing left to struggle for. As I was looking at the ground he dropped the remaining testicle right beside the other one, so that both of my severed balls were lying in the dirt, resting in the moist soil where I had shot out my puddle of spunk. It seemed so wrong to see them there, and I stared at them and wanted them back so damned badly! My cock wilted almost instantly into a wet, spent noodle, and it was plainly obvious to me that I would never fuck again! I wasn’t even a man any more, and as I stared at my severed balls the crowd was laughing, giggling really, and everyone seemed to be excited at what had been done to me. Someone started to clap, and the applause grew into a thunderous roar. God, they were sure happy to see me castrated!

Carlos then took his little knife and, turning it over, he hooked the curve of the blade against the gutstring that was still knotted where the blade entered my body. In his other hand he grasp the lose skin of my empty scrotum. Then, hooking the blade there around the skin, he said: “When you have taken the man’s balls, you have to decide what to do with the remains of his scrotum. I usually just leave it, and I think an empty bag serves as a good reminder to him of what he has lost. But if it be desired that the eunuch you have made be smooth and have no scrotum skin, then this is the time to take it as well. It’s not difficult, and it can be done with a single pull of the knife.”

As he said that Carlos jerked his wrist, with a single quick pull, and the sharp edge of the knife went right through the top of my empty scrotum and the flesh separated from my body in an instant, leaving a small knot of flesh where the gutstring was still tied. As I felt the knife slice off my empty bag, I grunted, and a sharp pain shot up between my legs and my entire body shuddered. Several of the slaves watching laughed. Carlos then took the cauterization knife, and laid it against the spot where my scrotum had been attached to my body for my entire life. There was a little more smoke this time, and another final grunt and after that I was done.

Carlos then said: “When you have taken his balls, make sure to use the hot knife to seal the wound. It just takes a touch of the iron, but sends a good message and the knife insures there will not be problems later.”

I looked between my legs and only my cock remained, and there was nothing else there, nothing at all! With my pubic hair gone as well, my cock looked very small and unimportant, more like the dick of a ten year old boy than that of a middle aged man. I was spent, totally humiliated, and of course castrated. I was no longer a man, and my days of fucking were gone. In less than ten minutes he had turned me into a eunuch while virtually everyone on the plantation had watched it be done.

I learned a lot from Carlos that day, and true to his word he did not charge me for the lesson he had given to me, and I learned more about castrating a man in those ten minutes than I had ever learned in the yards watching it be done. And, just as he had said, the lesson was free; but, even so, it was not without cost and I had paid for it with my balls.

[Authors note: © Copyright March, 2007. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. All comments are appreciated. [email protected]]