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Ayzintion City - A Father's Gift 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. My name is Sosus Mitchievich, and I'm fourteen years old. I live with my father and mother, only a few miles from the western border of the city of Ayzintion. My father is wealthy, and a land owner, although our plantation isn't that large by most standards. Still, there are a dozen slaves to work the fields, and two more family favorites in the house, and I've grown up with the slaves and have never known a life without them. Markus was a trusted servant of the family, and as our one and only male house slave I used to hate the power he held over me. He would mock me and in his careful way he would laugh at my immaturity. There was nothing I could do about it either. Ever since I can remember my father used him as a sitter, to watch me when he had to leave on business, and so I had to do what Markus would tell me to do, or face the wrath of my father when he returned. Markus liked his power over me, even as a slave, and I was just the "kid" and he was the "man". In reality, we were only five years apart, but that's a lot when you are growing up. When I was ten he was fifteen and he could tell me what to do and he did. If my father was gone for more than a few days, Markus could even whip me if my misbehavior was bad enough. He only did that once, when I was eleven, but once was enough and I never forgot it. Markus loved to make me do things, and he loved to make fun of me when he could. He had names for me too, especially when my father was out, including "little cock," and "small nuts." He would bathe me sometimes, and I especially hated that. My father wanted me clean though, and if I had been playing hard and was dirty then in the evenings I had to put up with Markus and the hot wooden tub he would place me in. While he was doing it he always commented on how small my balls were when compared to his. He would make me lie in the wooden tub and grind the lye soap into my skin until my eyes would sting. Sometimes he would soap up my dick, working in the leather with his fist until my thin prick would stiffen. He thought that was so funny, washing my dick and scrubbing my balls, and me powerless to stop him. Anyway, over the years as I grew up I hated him. Still, my father favored him, and Markus knew he had nothing to worry about. My father doesnt believe in making eunuchs of the slaves that he owns, and he rarely whips them no matter what they do. Until last month we had never had a eunuch on the plantation, and I never thought we would ever have one either. He says that men need their balls to do good work, and slaves are no exception. So the idea of cutting the balls off of a slave just never occurred to him. As I said, in our house, we have two slaves to do the chores and to cook the food. Besides Markus, we have Alesha, my mother's favorite, and she is a beautiful woman in her own right, with jet black hair and dark eyes to match. She has breasts the size of cantaloupes, and they sit up high and firm in her chest. She's nice, and her voice is sweet and soft. I've always liked her too. Some years have passed since Markus whipped me as a little boy. He is nineteen now, and he still works in the kitchen and around the house, tending the fire and doing the slaughtering so that the meals can be done. The two work well together, and my mother does not have to worry about the things in the kitchen. Of course, now that I'm fourteen Markus doesnt watch over me anymore, at least not like he once did, so in that since he doesnt have the same power he had just a year or so ago. Still, my hatred of him has stayed, although not to the same degree. You get used to what you have to get used to, and he still liked to play the older brother and to put me down from time to time. Then, hard as it is to believe, things changed and an opportunity came up that I could never have imagined. I guess it all started one morning, about three months ago, when I awoke to some noises and looked out my window to identify them. From my bedroom I had a good view into the garden, and what I saw then I will never forget. Alesha was on her back, down behind the thick rows of raspberry bushes, and Markus was on top of her, his naked hips moving up and down and up and down. I had never seen the sex act, but at fourteen I certainly recognized it, and of course I watched with an interest that I'm sure you can imagine. She was naked as well, of course, lying on her back, her legs spread wide to accommodate him. But it wasnt her that interested me. No, I instead watched Markus, pumping his hips, and pushing his big cock deep into her pussy. In and out, in and out it went, fast and faster. His back glistened with sweat in the hot sunlight, and he seemed to grunt as he did his thrusting. I could see his hole, puckered there, ringed with hair and moving with his motions. I stared at it for quite some time, as if it was some gateway for pleasure more than a conduit for excretion. I don't know why it captured my attention, but it did, and as I looked at it and stared at it my own dick stirred and grew hard and stiff. I had never felt the feelings I felt then as I watched the two of them do their thing. The slave's balls too especially caught my attention, as they swung beneath his legs and bulged with his desire. I watched them as he fucked her, his big sac swinging beneath his powerful legs, and as I watched they slowly drew up tight against his body. A few minutes after that he shuddered, and then I knew he was shooting out his seed. Just as he grunted he jerked out his cock, fast, and as he did he spurted his white cream up across her belly and between her big breasts. I had never seen anything like that! I just had no idea! Of course, by then my right hand was working my own cock. I had jerked on my pole before, but until that day nothing had ever happened. But on that day, as I watched them fuck, alas, I too squirted, for the first time in my life. I gasped and then that feeling of ecstasy overwhelmed me. As my dick started pulsating in my fist I had no idea what it was, and I looked down then to see what was happening. That's when I saw my thin teenage dick pumping out my own watery jism onto my bedroom floor. God it felt so damn good! I remember the feeing of that first time like it was yesterday. After that I could never look at him the same and there was something about him that I desired. He had no idea of course that I had seen him, but each day he filled my thoughts and I found myself with strange feelings that are difficult to describe. In the evenings I would close my eyes and savor the memory, his big legs spread and his ass pumping, his beautiful ass going up and down as he thrusted his cock and fucked the woman. Nightly it seemed I would work my own cock, jerking the skin of it in the memory with a dance of pleasure. Of course, each time after that first time I always pumped my dick until I squirted. I guess I spilled a lot of seed thinking of Markus and that memory of what I had seen. I wanted that slave. I wanted to bend him over and to spread his legs, and to do to him what he had done to her. I tried to banish my thoughts, to kill the desire, but whenever I saw him I would feel the stirring in my pants and the feelings seemed to grow and grow beyond any sense of reason. I started to imagine my own pole shoved down his throat, the slave's mouth sucking my cock like a baby sucks a tit. For a while I started to contemplate trying to make it happen. I reasoned that I was a master's son and he was a slave, so perhaps if I confronted Markus with what I had seen, and threatened to tell on him if he did not do my bidding, that perhaps he might open his mouth and his ass and let me have him. However, I'm not a stupid lad, not at all, and at fourteen I knew without any doubt that my father would never sanction it. For one thing, Markus was his favorite slave, and he treated him almost as if he was my brother. The other problem with the plan was that I also knew I'd get a whipping for certain if my father found out I had made such a proposal. I certainly knew well enough that mounting another man, even as a slave, is a crime, and of course it's strictly forbidden and it carries severe consequences. More than one man in the city has been nutted for doing just such a thing. If only he had no balls! That of course would change everything! Sport fucking a eunuch is another matter, and not only is it sanctioned but it is commonplace in the city and there is even a market for it. But alas, he had his balls and there was little I could do about it to remove them. So, instead, I closed my eyes at night and pumped my cock in frustration, imagining the tightness of his hole and the power of his muscles gripping my erection. Then one afternoon, when I would have least expected it, everything changed for me and for him. The family was all seated at the table, eating our afternoon meal, savoring the fried chicken and fresh greens from our garden. It was my favorite supper, and afterwards we always ate sautéed gizzards in a brown glaze made of cream and sugar. It was the family's favorite desert and there is nothing like it. This day, a friend of the council, Senor Thomas Ricken, was sharing our meal with us, and so, knowing my place, I had given up my chair at the opposite end of the table and was listening quietly to my father talk with him. I was seated at the side of the table, and of course was saying nothing. My mother was seated opposite to me, with the two men at the ends of the table, and over the course of the meal their conversation drifted from the slave business in the city to our own slaves and then around to me. Thomas Ricken said: "Well Lantes, I still can't believe you don't nut them. Keeping all of those slaves as men seems to me to be dangerous, and with their hormones in full swing I would think they would be difficult to control. I myself have all of mine nutted as soon as I purchase them, although I've done a few myself when the prices for cutting have been too high." My father answered: "Well Thomas, you can do what you want, and I'll do what I want. I like my slaves as they are, and they work hard for me and I want them strong. Why nut a man if you don't have to?" Thomas looked at me, and pointed in my direction with a piece of chicken. Then he said: "Well, your boy here deserves a slave--you don't want him marrying when he's too young. Hell, look at that fuzz on his lip! I bet he's wearing out his right arm every night! He's old enough to have a hole to practice with now, and nothing will help a young man's growth and self esteem more than a willing slave who can keep your son satisfied. At least you must recognize that!" I could have died. My face flushed red, bright red, and I looked at my plate and felt so humiliated I can't describe it. My mother was uneasy with the turn of the conversation as well, and she too averted her eyes. Still, the topic was out, and my ears perked up then with an interest that is difficult to describe. My father looked at me, and then back to Thomas Ricken, and then he said "Well, Sosus is a good boy, but he's still a little young for sex I would think. I doubt he's even making any seed yet. When he's ready I think I'll know, and I imagine eventually he will find a girl and when the time is right they will marry. So far he's shown no interest, and I certainly don't think he would want to mount some castrated slave. I don't know what that would teach him even. He'll know what to do when the time comes. It was then that Markus came into the room, carrying another plate of chicken fresh from the fryer. After he set the chicken down, he filled my mother's glass with wine, which she had emptied with two swallows when the conversation had shifted. As he left, I looked at him and watched him go, his perfect ass stuffed in his pants. Thomas Ricken said: "Well Lantes, I'm telling you. Allowing your house boy to keep his balls isn't something I'd recommend. If I were you, I'd nut that boy before he chases your wife or gets one of the slave girls pregnant. Hell, he'd be perfect for your teenage boy here, and using an older slave to let your son sew his oats in his ass would do wonders for your son's ego. I know I did that for my own boy when he was your son's age and it sure made a difference. Yeah, that's what I'd do if he was my slave and I had a boy like yours." My face was bright red then, and I swallowed, not daring to speak. My father looked at me, and I looked up, and then back down, not able to hold his gaze. He then said, chewing his chicken, "Markus is a well behaved slave boy...he would never do anything with anyone without my permission. I trust him comp..." I interrupted my father, just blurted it out, without thinking: "I caught him with Alesha." The room went totally quiet and all eyes turned to me. My face went red, and I started to apologize for my interruption. However, my father stopped me before I got very far. Then he was just staring at me and his eyebrows were crunched with a look of seriousness. My mother too was staring at me, obviously caught off guard by what I had said. Then, without hesitating, my father said to me: "Sosus, what did you say? Tell me what you saw!" I was scared. But hell, I had opened my mouth, and so well now I had to tell it. I told the story, about how I had awakened to them in the garden; how he had pumped into her and had done it under my window. I of course didn't tell them I had jerked my meat as I watched, or that the slave had pulled out before he had filled her with his seed. Still, I told enough, and when I finished, I looked down, scared, waiting for my father to say something as a reply." Thomas Ricken spoke first though: "Hell....see...I told you!!! That slave boy's got balls....he's a man damn it, and he's gonna keep fucking your house girl until she's with a child. He will I tell you." Then, he turned to me, and said: "Boy, if your father had that house slave nutted, and he was turned into a eunuch, would you want him for your use?" I stared. I thought my father would say something, but he didn't. I looked up, and my mother was staring at me, and my father was staring at me. God. I swallowed. I stared back. I had never been asked such a question in all my life. My heart was pounding. I had no idea what to say. About that time Markus came back into the room, strutting with confidence, totally unaware of what we had been talking about. Nobody said a thing as he picked up the dishes. As he took my plate I looked up at him, eye to eye with his crotch, and I let my eyes linger there, and then follow his movements until he was gone. The slave had no idea that his manhood was resting in the balance at that very moment. As soon as Markus left, my father spoke to me: "Sosus, Mr Ricken asked you a question. Your mother and I want to hear your answer." God. Shit. I looked at my mother, but I couldn't stare at her. Thomas Ricken said: "Don't be shy boy....tell them; you're man enough. Tell your parents that you'd enjoy a eunuch hole to learn on." I couldn't believe what he had said. Slowly, I looked up, and then I stared at him. Then, I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, and as I did I all but whispered: "I....ah...it, it would be a good thing to have." You could have heard a pin hit the floor. My father stared at me, looking at my face in a way he hadn't looked at it before. Then he burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed, and even my mother giggled. Finally, getting himself under control, he said "Well....what do you know? I guess you do have a wisp of a mustache...perhaps you're turning into a man sooner than I recognized." Then my father looked over his shoulder and into the kitchen, through the archway. The slaves were busy cutting up the gizzards and preparing the sweet onions that they would be sautéed in. As my father stared at the boy there, he said "I don't know Thomas....I don't know. Markus has always been a good slave, but he is nineteen now, and perhaps his balls are too much for him." My mother looked up then, emptying her glass, and then, swallowing her wine, she said "He has been looking at me strangely lately, and it has made me nervous. A few days ago we were talking, and I was almost certain he was stiff in his pants. I was going to say something before, but I wasnt sure." My father looked back at her, and the concern and anger on his face was obvious. He appeared to make a decision. Then he said: "Well, I can't have that. And if he's been fucking Alesha then there's little doubt that I need to put him in his place." Looking at Thomas Ricken then, he went on: "Perhaps you are right. I have to agree that I certainly can't let that go on, and I won't have him looking at my wife with lust. But cuttings are expensive, and I don't even have a proper bench to do it. I just don't have one, because I've never cut one of my slaves before." Thomas grinned. Then he said "Hell man...I can nut the boy for you. We can do it here...and now too. This table will work fine, and if you've never nutted a slave before then he will be easy to put into position. He won't have any idea until he's tied out, and by then he won't be able to do anything about it. Trust me, and let's get him done and give your teenage son a hole to have." My father then surprised the hell out of me, when he said "Well, hell....perhaps you are right. If my son is old enough to want a hole, then lets give him one. I sure don't want Markus going after my wife and I don't want my son getting into a teenage marriage just to get some pussy." Then, we all stood up, and moved away from the table. My father sent me for rope, and then he and Mr Riken discussed how it should be done. I ran as fast as I could and by the time I got back my father and Mr Riken had just finished making their plan, and so he was just calling Markus and Alesha into the dining room. I thought for a second things were going to happen, but instead he just told them to clear the table. Alesha wanted to know if we still wanted desert, and my father said "I want to hold off on that...when I am ready I will tell you and we will have it then." Then the slaves started doing that, carrying the dishes and glasses back to the kitchen. When they were out of earshot again my father told me to go and fetch the pig knife and to bring the whip. Again, I ran, as fast as I could, grabbing the little curved blade and its sheath from the barn and the whip from the stable and then rushing back to the dining room as fast as my feet would go. By the time I got back the second time the table was clear, and both of the house slaves were standing beside it. Everybody had a very serious face. My father was talking, and there was a definite nervousness in his voice that surprised me. Looking at Markus, my father spoke: "I have heard something during dinner that has upset me, and I am ashamed of what I have heard and I demand from you an explanation. I have been told that you two have been fucking like rabbits in my garden, like two animals in heat. You both know it is against the rules and is strictly forbidden. What have you to say for yourself?" Markus's face went red, and his eyes wide. He had been caught totally off guard. Alesha looked at the floor, and the two of them looked totally petrified. Finally, almost in disbelief on what he had heard, Markus spoke. I could tell he had no idea how he had been caught. Still, he was smart enough to not try and deny it, and so he did what he could and apologized with as much sincerity as he could muster. He said "Yes sire.....I...I....I'm sorry sir. It was my fault. I just let my feelings of lust get out of hand. I can assure you sire that it won't happen again." My father looked at him, and then he said "You can be certain of that. I don't like whipping a slave, but some acts cannot be left unpunished. Mr Ricken here will punish you, as he's more in tune with what should be done and as you know I normally don't have the stomach for it. I'll see you after the punishment is over and then I'll accept your apology. With that, my father walked out of the room, leaving the two slaves standing, staring at Thomas Ricken who was staring back at them. Mr Ricken then turned to Alesha and said: "Girl, go to the kitchen, and prepare the onions and make ready the dessert. I do not whip women. As for you boy, get out of your clothes and bend over this table. I'm about to whip you like you've never been whipped." The older boy stared at me, and I stood watching, a sly grin on my face. Of course, at that moment, he knew it was I that must have seen him and ratted him out, and yet as a slave there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time, I did not feel like a kid in his eyes and he had no power over me. I could see his face flush, red, and then he started to remove his clothing because he had no choice. I was holding the whip, and his eyes caught it. Seeing it in my hands had to emphasize to him how things were changing. I set the whip on the table, so he could better see it waiting for him. The knife however was in its sheath, on my waist, and I don't think it even occurred to him to notice it. He had no idea. As he peeled of his shirt I stared at his perfect male form, every muscle in his body oh-so-perfect. He rippled, and his washboard stomach was flat and hard, and the cris-crossed lines of muscles defined it. When he pulled down his pants and folded them over a chair I could see his rounded ass and perfectly shaped strong legs, dusted with his sex hair. He left his thong on, and I think he thought the whipping was to be on his back and so he didn't think he would need to remove it. Of course, he had no idea he was about to be castrated, and he was oblivious to the real danger. Mr Ricken then said: "Lay down boy, across the width of the table. I plan to punish you there, and I want your arms and legs spread when I am doing it. You won't forget this day as long as you live." The boy slowly lowered himself to the table....and Mr Riken then picked up the rope. I could tell Markus was worried, but tying a man for the whip is not that unusual. So, he did nothing, and allowed it to be done to him. First, Thomas Ricken tied Markus's left wrist to the far table leg, and then the right to the opposite one. On this side of the table he secured his left ankle to one of the legs, and then, stretching the boy's legs wide, very wide, he tied a double knot and secured his right ankle in place. Next, he put two more loops of rope around the boy's legs just above his knees, spreading out his legs and exposing his thong-covered bag. The boy was lying across the table then, where we had just eaten our chicken, his legs spread in that inverted "V" shape and exposing everything. The teenager's nuts were covered, but were hanging and easily reachable as they rested just off the edge of the table. He was tied well, and he wasnt going anywhere. Then, without a word, Mr Ricken reached down and with a quick, hard pull, he jerked off the slave's thong and in doing so stripped him totally naked. The boy gasped, and his eyes went wide. He had not expected that, and I saw him jerk against his restraints. Normally, when slaves of his age are whipped for a punishment they are whipped on their backs, and there usually is no need to strip them totally. So, at this point Markus was quite surprised, even though there wasnt anything he could do to stop what had been done. Still, he stared, in shock, the look of surprise total. He struggled, testing his bonds, and as he did so his naked ass bobbed up and down, and I stared at his big balls that seemed to dangle earthward, waiting, waiting for the knife on my waist and the two cuts that would take them. I stared at his hole. As I looked at it, at Marcus's anus, I realized that in a way it was soon to be my hole as much as it was his. I wanted it so damn bad, and now that I was up close and had a much better view of it, I could see his ring of hair that surrounded it, protecting it. I knew it would be so damn tight, and I could hardly wait to fuck it and savor the feeling of my virgin cock buried in his chute up to my teenage balls. Finally, with the slave secured across the big table, Mr Ricken picked up the whip. Then he said "Slave...you have forgotten your place in this family. You are here to serve, and not satisfy yourself with your pleasures. You have allowed your own balls to get in the way of your judgment, and that needs to be rectified." Then, grabbing the whip, he brought it up high, and then down and into the boy's ass with a vengeance. The slave yelped with the hit, and threw his head back, his eyes wide from the intensity of the burn. Clearly, he had not expected the whip across his ass, and it shocked him. Without any hesitation, Mr Ricken brought the whip up high again, and then down even faster. SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH....SNAP!!!!!!!!!!! And then again. SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH....SNAP!!!!!!!!!! "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" yelled Markus, screaming then so loud that his voice reverberated throughout the house. After that the whip was flailing the air, striking the young man's ass, the ends curving up between his legs and even marking his big scrotum from time to time. His eyes watered, and a few cuts later the tears came, like a damn had burst. Within only a few minutes the boy was blubbering out his apologies, begging like I've never heard a young man beg before. Clearly the whip hurt, and hurt bad, and yet Mr Ricken showed no mercy and he burned the leather and striped the slave's naked ass until it was red and raw. Finally, he tossed the whip down, and then picked up a rag and reached over to his mouth with it. The boy was laying there on the table, gasping actually, sucking in big lungfuls of air as he fought the burn and the pain that was radiating from his upturned bottom. When he opened his mouth and tried to beg for mercy, Mr Ricken stuffed in the rag, gagging his whimpering and ending his begging. Then, he used the boy's own thong to tie around his head, so that the rag was held in place and the boy couldn't spit it out. Then, with the youth gagged, he leaned over the slave and spoke to him, his mouth at his ear. "Boy....I hope you enjoyed the sting of the whip. Feel it, and savor it, and learn from it. Now, it is imperative that you get the message, that fucking as a slave, without permission, will not be tolerated. You promised the master of the house that it will not happen again, and he promised you back that you can be sure of it. So, now I'm going to make certain those promises are kept. Besides, we need to make sure the rest of the slaves on this plantation get the message, so I'm going to make you the example." His eyes were staring, and he was looking at me. I don't think he had caught on, even then. Mr Ricken continued then: "Boy, do you know how I'm going to do that?" "Do you?" He shook his head, staring straight ahead, directly at me, with his eyes wide. He had no idea. Mr Ricken then said: "Oh...it's easy. I'm going to make sure this doesnt happen again by taking your balls. If you missed the message with the whip, I can assure you that you will get it when I castrate you." The teenage slave went crazy then, shaking his head side to side and struggling against his bonds like there would be no tomorrow coming. I've never seen a man struggling as hard as he was struggling then, his striped ass going up and down and up and down. He jerked his knees and pulled hard against the ropes that spread his legs apart and kept his balls oh-so-vulnerable. He looked at me, and I was grinning back at him. Then as I watched, Mr Ricken picked up Markus's boots, and pulled the laces from the leather. Then he reached down between the nineteen year old's legs, and looped the leather around the top of his sac of nuts. The boy was screaming for mercy into his gag, and banging his head into the table as he felt his nuts and the tie being looped around them. He slammed his hips up and down and side to side, to the extent the ropes would let him, trying desperately to move his scrotum and to keep his balls out of the man's way who was working hard to form the knot. It didnt work, and with a single hard jerk the knot was closed and the boy's balls were trapped in their sac." As the knot was made tight, he screamed into his gag: "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" God he bucked his hips then! I could tell it must have hurt like hell, and he sure didn't like feeing that tight leather noose around his nuts! Even so, I noticed his prickle grow thick and hard, and it was soon jutting out from under him with an eagerness that was hard to understand. I made the comment: "Markus sure got hard when you tied his balls." Mr Ricken leaned over then and looked, and then he answered: "Yes...so he has. Perhaps he finds it sexually exciting to be castrated? Who knows?" Then he looked at me, and smiled, and then he said: "Perhaps he's anxious to be unmanned so you can fill his hole with your virgin cock and pump him full of your seed?" God I blushed. I noticed too that Markus eyes went wide with that comment, and it was obvious then as he was looking at me that he knew his fate. I think his fear made me grin even wider. Yes...in that instant he knew he was really going to be unmanned, and afterwards I, the little kid he had mocked for so many years, would soon be fucking him as if he was a woman. With that as his thought, all of a sudden he started struggling even harder than he had been before. Of course, it didn't make any difference, and if he wasnt anxious to be nutted at least I was anxious to see it be done. "Get me a bowl." I almost ran to the kitchen, and as I did I saw the pile of gizzards waiting to be sautéed. The onions were already simmering in the pan, and the white cream sauce was there in a pitcher beside the pan, next to a cup of cane sugar waiting to sweeten it all. My mother was helping, trying to ignore the action going on in the dining room, and yet for me all I could think of doing was to get back to it as fast as I could. When I returned with the bowl in hand, Mr Ricken said to me: "Boy, hold it beneath the slave's cock and keep his dick steady when I make the slice. He's extremely hard, and I suspect he's a squirter. A boy's last wad shouldn't be wasted. You can even pump him if you want to get it all." Then he said: "Give me the pig knife." I handed it to him, and when I did Markus went crazy, struggling so damn hard I thought the ropes might cut into his flesh. He jerked in a total panic, knowing the end was near, fighting with everything that made him a man. God he didn't want to lose his balls! I leaned over, to get a better look, and stared at his big sac hanging beneath his pink hole. Compared to my own, his balls were huge, and fat, and they were covered with hair. I reached up and took his thick cock in my fist, and held the bowl under him in case he shot his load. As I watched, Mr Ricken took the little knife and laid it up against the right side of his scrotum. Then he said "Don't struggle so slave....it will go easier if you stop fighting it and just relax and let me take your balls. You deserve this. If you relax I'll take them quick. If you fight me though and make this difficult then I'll make sure you feel every bit of it." If anything that made Markus fight even harder. His entire back was glistening from his sweat, and I could see that even his hair was damp. I don't think he liked me holding his rod. God he was stiff though, like a piece of iron. I started to pump him then, just because I could, and as I did Mr Ricken shrugged his shoulders and said "Well...he's gonna fight us. So be it." With that, he pushed in the blade, above the fat nut on the right side of the boy's sac. As he did that, and I pumped him, Markus jerked his head back, staring at the ceiling, and as he did so his cock started pulsating and after that he was jetting his cream into the bowl I was holding. I pumped him and watched him squirt out his load, in thick copious lines of cum. He shuddered as he ejaculated; squirting his juice in rhythmic pulsations that seemed to rack his body, even as the knife was being twisted and his right ball was being excised. Other than the one time in the garden, I had never seen another guy ejaculate, and it fascinated me. My own prick went instantly rigid, and it was the hottest thing I had ever seen. God it was something--the way his cock pulsated and pumped out his big load of goo. Of course, it was even more exciting milking his cock as he was doing it. I almost shot my own wad as I watched him being castrated as he was squirting out his load. His face grimaced from the pain of the knife, and he screamed into his gag. Mr Ricken twisted the knife and worked it slowly, making sure to draw out the older teens castration as he had promised he would. Markus's eyes slammed shut as he felt the sharpness of the knife, and he banged his head into the table in frustration even as he continued to squirt. At the same time he grunted into his gag even louder, and then, finally, his entire body shuddered and his nut was taken. It dropped into my bowl, severed, and then immediately Mr Ricken shifted the boy's half empty sac in his fist and moved the knife to the other side. By then Markus had stopped squirting, his balls totally empty. He opened his eyes just before the last cut, and as the knife penetrated into his sac once again and curved behind his remaining nut, he stared at me, eye to eye. He looked at me, a teenage boy, sprouting into puberty, holding his cock and helping to steal his manhood. He was looking right at the fuzz on my upper limp. As he stared at that, he felt it being done to him, he becoming a nothing, being unsexed forevermore and soon to be just a hole for me to fuck. He jerked his entire body in protest, and then with a final scream and a little spasm it was done. I stared at the bowl, with the two big nuts that had formed the essence of the teenager's manhood now floating in his last and final load of jism. Mr Ricken said "Take his nuts to the kitchen, and have them added to the desert. They'll be tender and sweet, and they are as fresh as it gets. When cooked with the gizzards they will add a lot to the dish. There is no sense in wasting them. I didn't know what to do really, but I took the bowl into the kitchen as he had instructed me. Alesha's face went white, staring at the big set of twin nuts and the bowl of semen from the boy who had been fucking her whenever he could. But my mother seemed to take it in stride, and simply said "Give it to me Sosus." I did, and she took it and with a few slices of a knife she cut up the nuts into a half dozen slices, and then, with a flick of her wrist she poured the entire contents into the fry pan, stirring his nuts in with the sliced up gizzards and mixing in his load of cream with the rest of the sugared sauce. I could smell them simmering, and for some reason they smelled better than anything I could ever remember. A few slaves from the fields were summoned to take him away, which of course served the purposed to make sure the word got out. By the time they had cut him down Markus's hose was hanging useless like a wet noodle, spent and lifeless between his legs. His face was red with shame and all the fight had gone out of him. Before they dragged him away Mr Ricken had the slaves turn him over, and then made Alesha come in and examine his empty scrotum. Mr Ricken made the girl feel his empty sac, feeing the space where his stones had been. It was flat, and empty, just a useless pouch of skin that no longer contained anything at all. As the girl felt his empty nutsac, the boy's face was beet red and the tears of shame watered his eyes. After that, they took him away to the stable and a straw mattress, and he was given a few weeks to heal before he had to work again. After he was gone from the table, we all sat down and enjoyed a wonderful dessert, and it was so sweet and creamy that it can't be described. God it was good. I know I got at least a few slices of his candied nuts, because they were so much tastier than the gizzards that it was immediately apparent each bite was a special morsel. Finally, a few weeks later, Markus came back to the kitchen, and on that afternoon my father called me into his study. This is what he said to me: "Tonight, I've instructed Markus to report to your bedroom, after the kitchen is clean and the meal is put away. I have told him to do your bidding; to do whatever you ask and whenever you asked it. I have also told him that if he refuses you, then I personally will send him to the slave pens and have his hose snipped off. Afterwards, I will see that he's sold to the whore houses so as to make an example of him. I'm sure he will be very cooperative. I hope you enjoy him." I didnt know what to say. I thanked my father, and then left, eager for the evening and for what was to come. Soon enough, there was a knock on my door, and when I opened it Markus was there. I stared at him, and smiled, and then I told him to come in. The sparkle in his eyes was missing, and so was his defiant attitude that used to bother me so much. I wasted no time. I motioned for him to come to me, and he did. I slipped the tie on is pants, and they dropped to his knees. His cock was limp, hanging dead and useless like a worm that has drowned in water. I lifted it, felt it, but it didn't stir in my hand. It was obvious his worm was good only for pissing now, and not much, if anything, else. He couldn't even jack it any more. It looked thinner than when I had seen it last, and the hair above it was sparser, although not exceptionally so. I felt down, below his little worm, to where his empty sac was, and as I felt the lose folds of flesh that used to contain his balls his face flushed red with his humiliation. Finally, I reached up to his shoulders, and then slowly I pushed him down to his knees. Kneeling before me, he was staring up at me then like a defeated little boy, and I grinned at him. Then, oh-so-slowly, I opened my pants. He stared at me, and then at my young cock, which was instantly stiff and was jutting up and pointing at his face. My little dick was obviously a lot harder than his would ever be again. I could see his eyes look at it with envy, and then they moved down and I saw them feast there on my balls. My balls....the ones he used to laugh at and make fun of because they were so small. Well, he wasn't laughing at them now. Besides, they were growing, and would grow bigger in the years to come. Even now, they were balls non-the-less and it was obvious that he envied them. I didn't have to say anything at all after that, but instead, just took the back of his head and guided him to my pole which was growing even harder and more eager by the second. It's been a nightly thing since then. He works the kitchen during the day, like he always did, and then he comes to my room and does my bidding. One thing is for certain. Now, castrated, he doesnt mock me anymore. No, now the nutless slave is on my bed every night, bent over and holding his ass upward and with his legs spread, waiting for me. His hole is usually partially open, and the lips of his anus appear puckered and waiting, almost anxious even. Perhaps he's grown used to it by now. I fuck him regularly, that's for sure, and I like the tightness of his hole and the feeling I get when I am squirting into it. I make him suck my cock whenever I want, and I love to watch him drink my juice as I pump it out of my balls. I usually cum three or four times each night, until my balls are empty and I am feeling really good. I never go to bed unsatisfied, and he does my bidding and he does it well. He knows his place. He doest complain anymore, and instead he sucks me and kisses me and keeps me happy and contented. I especially love to make him lick my balls, kissing what he no longer has, licking them and honoring them and making them grow tight in my sack. After he has done that, and they are tingling well, that's when I roll him over and empty my nuts into his ass. Sometimes, on those rare occasions, when I am thrusting into him as hard and as fast as I can, my teenage cock pounds into his prostate and I can feel his muscles contracting from the pressure. If I keep at it, and don't stop or hesitate, on a rare occasion he will give a shudder and a small bit of clear fluid will seep out his worm. That doesnt happen very often, and usually if I sense it's going to occur, I will pull out of his ass and make him suck me dry instead. Oh how wonderful and fitting that feels as I squirt my load down his throat and leave him wanting and unsatisfied. Every teenage boy should have a eunuch slave of his own. [Authors note: © Copyright January, 2004. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. If you liked the story, please write and tell me. Thanks. -Nathan |