The “Fucking Tables” of the Past; 3rd Letter

I have to say, that letter got me interested in doing some more research, and while I found a bit more information here I’m very curious on cases where the table’s were misused. One source I found mentioned that the “state mandated castration machines”, which I assume was the official name for the “Fucking Tables” were sometimes used behind the iron curtain to maintain order and discipline. Do you know of any instances? I’d really appreciate anything you could find out, as you are so much closer to where these abuses may have taken place.

I found one eyewitness account of an older man, overweight, who was castrated sometime prior to 1964. Apparently, he had become belligerent in prison, causing all kinds of problems, and so the guards or warden or someone in authority just took matters into their hands and took care of his problem. I can only imagine the surprise as they dragged him from his cell. It appears that this event took place in Poland.

Well, take care my friend, and write when you can.

Nathan

------------------------------------------------------------------

Former prison guard, Warsaw prison; 1964. Name withheld upon request:

Well, Berstein was just a problem for a very long time, and he was a lifer, so we had to deal with him and there was no hope he would change. He was very aggressive, always fighting and he was so big that the other inmates were very afraid of him. He was about 45 years of age, overweight, with a belly of sorts and balding hair. He worked out in the gym, and he had the muscles to get what he wanted. I hated him.

At some point he became sexually aggressive, and started taking the younger prisoners and forcing himself upon them. He would force them to perform sexually for him, often bending them over and penetrating them so violently that their rectums were torn from the abuse.

More than one young teenager found himself as a personal toy for Berstein’s pleasure, and I guess the final straw came when he started modifying the incoming “chickens” as they were called, in order to enhance his personal, perverse pleasure. One boy I especially remember. He was only nineteen, in for three years for thievery, and he looked so innocent we all knew that one of the men would have their way with him within a few days. This particular lad was blond, with striking blue eyes, and he had a beautiful smile when he came to us that first day and it was sad knowing what was in store for him. It took even less time that we thought for them to get to him.

Soon after he arrived Berstein beat him to a pulp and then, while some of his friends held the boy down, he pulled the lad’s teeth out one by one with a pair of pliers he had taken from the shop area. Afterwards, he had forced his fat cock down the boy’s young throat, the blood going everywhere. He didn’t care. He fucked that teenager’s mouth with a frenzy, pounding his cock into the boys gums and throat, again and again until he finally ejaculated. When the boy didn’t swallow it all, he beat him again, and then rolled him over and a few minutes later he fucked him too. All the time he was doing it, his big balls swinging as he rammed his massive prick into the boy, he was laughing and laughing. God only knows why. Afterwards, after he had satisfied himself, he told the kid to report back to him every week, every Saturday, for his ‘fuck appointment.’

He destroyed that kid and he was never the same after that. For the warden, and some of the others, we didn’t see the situation was going to improve. The warden held a meeting where we discussed our options, and there really weren’t very many. He was a lifer, so he wasn’t going anywhere, and we didn’t have the structure to keep him in isolation, so there wasn’t a lot we could do. That’s when the warden hinted that if something were to happen, to change him, well, the other prisoners would get the message and the problems for us just might disappear. Of course, he didn’t specify WHAT needed to be done, except that he pointed out there was a “Fucking Table” in the prison storage facility.

Berstein never had any idea. Now I wasn’t a part of this, although I saw it, but I know that when they came for him and told him he was wanted in the clinic, for his physical, that he didn’t fight them and went willingly. They cuffed him, and put his legs in irons, the way they do whenever they transport a prisoner.

When they got to the room where the table was set up, Berstein of course had no idea and before he could figure it out they had him down and then just started jerking his prison clothes off of him. He is a big man, and he fought hard, really kicking and it took more than eight of the guards to get him on that table. Finally though, he was there.

He sure didn’t like it when they took his clothes, and was even madder when his underpants were taken and his cock jumped free. Berstein’s uncircumcised cock was fat, and it was sticking out slightly, the way cocks do on some big men that have that much between their legs. I know that he got really angry when one of the guards took it and jerked on it, trying to get the big man harder to make it easier to get it inserted. It didn’t work, as he was too angry and struggling too hard, but it did enlarge some, just from the friction, and it was enough to allow them to slide it down into the fur-lined channel of the table.

When his cock slid through the beaver fur he started yelling, saying “What the fuck? What the fuck?” I remember that, how he kept just saying that, over and over, his fat hips rocking and thrusting and jerking as he fought the restraints on the table. He had no idea of course, none, and so I think he thought he was going to be beat or something. He just had no idea.

When they had him naked and strapped to the table, with his fat cock in the “pussy” of the table, he was just so huge. I mean, he was a very big man. With his legs spread of course we were all looking at his sac, which was the source of his aggression, and it was just so big and bulging that it really cannot be described. He had the biggest balls of any man I’ve ever seen, before of sense. They were literally stuffed full, his weighted sac hanging down and dangling there, between his legs like a sack of plums, ripe for the taking.

When they hooked up the wire, running it around his fat sac with a twist and then back down through the guide hole where it was attached to the gear wheel, he was screaming and yelling and struggling. He was trying to figure out what was going on, as up to that point no one had told him anything. He knew they were doing something, and he could feel the loop of wire around his balls, so he had to know something was happening, but he just couldn’t fathom what was taking place.

Finally, with him in position, they gagged him. I remember that, as they put the gag in, but they were afraid he might make too much noise and while I don’t think it would have made any difference, nobody wanted to take any chances. Afterwards, after he was gagged, one of the guys who was sort of spearheading the operation, leaned over to him and spoke into his ear. I don’t remember the exact words, but here is the just of what he said:

“Berstein, you’re a fucking problem for everyone in this prison. You’ve been warned to straighten your act up, to leave the other men alone, and to follow the rules. Well, the warnings are over. You look funny...all tied up and nowhere to go....your big fat prick buried to your balls. How does that pussy-hole feel Berstein? Do you like it? Does your cock feel good? Well, enjoy it, while you can. Do you feel that fat steel wire, the one wrapped around your balls?”

His eyes flashed open, wide open, and he was staring straight ahead, listening to every word.

The guard continued with a grin: “You do? Good. We are going to plug this thing in now, and as the clock turns that little wire is going to start going round and round and round, like a merry go round, and as it does it’s going to twist and twist, and eventually it is going to strangle those big balls of yours. Pretty soon they aren’t gonna be yours anymore. Now, don’t sweat it so. You don’t need em Berstein, you don’t. We are doing you a favor today, and someday you might even thank us. So have fun Berstein...have a lot of fun...and enjoy it. Unfortunately, you can only enjoy being castrated once.”

I can’t really describe his expression. It might have been anger, or fear, or a mixture of the two. Disbelief perhaps. He was trying to look around then, to look back over his shoulder to see what was happening. I do know this. As soon as they plugged in the table and the clock motor started, the big man really started struggling. I mean, at that moment, when he saw the clock and felt the wire start twisting, slowly, he suddenly had it all figured out and that’s when he was screaming into his gag. I’ve never seen any man struggle so hard, and his big thighs were hairy and I remember watching them tighten and loosen, his buttocks sticking up, into the air, and then back down, as he drove into the machine and jerked on his leg straps like a crazed maniac.

Every muscle was bulging, and yet where I was standing what I remember the most was his ass. It was big, and you could see the ring of hair around his hole, and it was puckered as he struggled and jerked, and I was thinking that of all the men he had fucked I don’t think he had ever had it done to him. Well, I knew when his balls were gone, that was likely to change.

His balls seemed to capture everyone’s attention. They were really fat, the biggest balls I’ve ever seen on a man, and as the wire started getting tighter you could see the indentation it was making at the top of his fat sac. He didn’t like it, you could tell that, and he was really trying to pull his bottom up, to lift his balls off and away from the table. He held them up like that for a minute or more, but the wire kept its twisting and I think he started to figure out it wasn’t working and he couldn’t stop it from happening even if he could raise them all the way to the ceiling.

He got desperate then. He slammed his hips forward and grunted, then jerked them back out, hard, as if he was trying to pull the leather straps from the table with the muscles of his ass. He pulled really hard, his entire body straining, then he slammed forward again, and was yelling into the gag. Again, he jerked back out, hard, as if to break the straps, and then again, and then again. He started doing it faster and faster, and some of the men in the room started to giggle. As he struggled he was bucking the table, humping it even, his fat cock sliding in and out of the hole, the fur gripping it, fondling it even, tickling it while his balls were being taken.

One of the guards put his hand on Berstein’s head, and tossed his hair. It was like he was playing with the man, running his hand through his balding locks as Berstein fucked the table and stared at us as we stared at him. He was grunting into the gag, screaming something into it, all the while he pulled and pushed with every muscle he had. Still, tighter and tighter went the wire, the diameter of the loop growing ever smaller with each minute that past.

At the same time his balls seemed to grow even larger in size bulging out even more from the crease of the wire. I’m sure it was just the wire, pushing its way into them, and through them, the man’s big testicles bulging out from the pressure. He was wild, his hips still slamming into the table, in and out, in and out, his cock moving like a piston in the furry hole in the table. If you looked under the table, where the mechanism was working, you could see the very tip of his cock jutting in and out of the hole, the beaver fur sticking out the bottom and the reddish-purple head of his cock wet and eager. It looked like a pussy hole being fucked from the inside, as the purple cock-head slid in and out and in and out, its foreskin retracted and out of sight.

Nothing changed for several minutes. He got more desperate though, and you could see the expression on his face and it was obvious that he was feeling the pain. The wire just seemed to have disappeared into the big scrotum that contained his balls, becoming a part of it, and there was a little blood on the table but it was not excessive. He bucked the table then as only a desperate man can, a man being castrated and knowing it, feeling it, as it was being done. His eyes were wide open, and he was grunting into the gag. He was begging to, with his expression and his mumbles and the wetness in his eyes.

If he wanted sympathy it was not in the room. Someone started to laugh then, at the big man being castrated. He was wild, and as the fat man struggled I too started to laugh as it was happening. For some reason, I had no sympathy for him either, and was glad he was being unmanned. I looked around the room, and the warden was there, in the back, not saying a word and out of site of the man on the table.

He was smiling though, as he watched Berstein fight to save his balls, which were in the long process of being taken. Perhaps four or five more minutes went by, and the wire was very tight then and he was grunting and the water in his eyes had turned to tears. One of the guards put his hand on his back, right above his ass, which was glistening with sweat and let it ride there, feeling him, feeling the struggles of the fat man and the tension within his body. The guard then said “I think he’s gonna cum.”

Then suddenly, Berstein looked up and arched his back as he was bucking his hips. He grunted then, and from under the table drops of semen started raining to the floor as the big man began to empty his half-severed balls.

He grunted and grunted, his eyes wide, the feeling of his last ejaculation seemingly to overwhelm him. He kept cumming, the man’s copious load so thick that it seemed to go on and on. He splattered the tile floor, and his drops of semen just continued, his big prick oozing out more and more as he continued to push it in and out of the fur lined hole. He was a big man, with big balls, and he had the load to match.

He started screaming into his gag about the same time he was ejaculating. It all happened about the same time I guess. I don’t know if he stopped cumming because his balls came off before they were empty, or if they were already dry when his balls came off. I guess it doesn’t matter. The two events seemed to happen about the same time. I do know that he grunted as the wire suddenly just slipped the rest of the way through, and his balls just dropped to the table, still wiggling as if they were alive in their cinched off sac.

As I looked at him, at the big fat castrated eunuch, I can’t describe the feeling of satisfaction I gained from seeing his severed balls on that table. One of the guards picked them up and showed them to him, and he told him if he said anything he would make sure all the other inmates saw them too. I remember Berstein’s expression then, as he contemplated that, the realization of what it would mean to be the only sexless eunuch in the entire prison.

Two weeks later he was back in his cell, all healed up from his “sickness.” He never said a word, and the other inmates were never told although eventually they figured it out. Still, after that, he left the other prisoners alone. Even the kid, when he reported back for his weekly “fuck appointment” was told to go away.

I don’t know what happened to him after that. I got transferred to a different prison, and so I never saw Berstein or the warden or that table ever again. Still, I’ll never forget him, and the size of his sac and the way that he struggled. No, I’ll never forget that as long as I live.

[Authors note: © Copyright September, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. All comments are appreciated, more than you can know. [email protected]]