“Hey, you, come over here.”

Oh, fuck! He saw me staring at him. Hell, I can’t help it. He’s a fucking Greek god, a blond hair, blue eyed, Greek god. It’s as if a statue of Apollo were brought to life, Apollo when he was a kid, and deposited here at Chadwick Academy. I hurry over to him. This is my first year at Chadwick, and he’s an upperclassman. His name is Chilton Harris.

“Yes sir,” I say, almost coming to attention.

“What’s your name, Boy?”

“Wolman, Sir.”

“You have a funny accent, Wolman. Where are you from?”

“The States, Sir, but we have a house in London.”

“And that’s where your parents are?”

“No, Sir. My father’s a sailor; by that, I mean he likes to sail. He and my mother are sailing around the world in our sailboat. They’ll be gone all year.”

“Why are you always staring at me, Wolman?”

My face burned. “I – I wasn’t staring.”

“Don’t contradict me, Wolman. If I say you were staring, you were staring. Now, why were you staring at me?”

“Apollo.”

“What do you mean, Apollo?”

“You remind me of Apollo, you know, the Greek god, Apollo.”

“Do I turn you on, Wolman?”

I shrugged, but my face burned even hotter.

“I think I do turn you on. Are you queer for me?”

“I’m not a homosexual”

I say it, although I’ve long suspected I was. For as long as I remember, it has been pretty boys I’ve lusted over not pretty girls. Since before I started puberty, it has been boys not girls that got my dick hard; and it was hard, now.

“I need a fag, Wolman.”

“I – I don’t smoke, Sir.”

I didn’t; besides, we weren’t allowed to smoke; although many did.

“Not that kind of fag. A fag is an underclassman that serves an upperclassman, and I want you to be my fag. My last fag had a…an accident and went home. He’s not returning to Chadwick. Come to my room after dinner, say 7:00. I’m in A212. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Sir!”

I was excited. My roommate had told me it was a tradition for upperclassmen to choose an underclassman as a kind of slave, and there was no one I’d rather serve. I had already made Chilton Harris my god and was more than willing to serve him anyway I could; and I meant in any way. If Chilton Harris asked me to suck his cock, I would.

Fuck! I wanted him to make me suck his cock. Should I protest a little for show, if he asked it of me?

I’m not cock sucking expert; hell, I’ve never even jacked off with another guy. I’ve watched porn on the Internet; at least, I’ve watched as much as you can without paying with your credit card.

I have a credit card, but my dad’s accountant sees the bills, and although they say on the sites that they bill discreetly, CCBill listed on your credit card statement is sure tipoff you’ve been viewing porn.

In my room after dinner, I was getting ready to go to Chilton’s room as ordered. I had taken another shower, even though I’d showered that morning. My roommate, Bill Smitherman, watched me comb my hair.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to fag for Chilton Harris. I have to be in his room at 7:00.”

“Chilton Harris?”

“Yeah. Cool, huh?”

“Not so cool. Chilton Harris has a reputation. His last fag had some kind of accident and went home. No one will say exactly what happened to him, but some say Chilton Harris had something to do with it, and it’s a little weird that no one will say what the accident was. Also there are rumors that he requires certain sexual services of his fags; but you might not mind that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I figure you’re gay.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I see how you look at me when I’m naked.”

“But, I’m not…”

“Hey, I don’t care if you’re gay. It’s cool with me. I’m not; I prefer girls; but none are around in a boys' school. Some night you want to crawl in bed with me and blow me, you’re welcome to do it. I won’t blow you, but I’ll give you a wank. Might be fun. Think about it. You’re going to be blowing Harris; that’s why he chose you as his fag. It’s pretty obvious you’re gay.”

I felt my face burn, but I didn’t try to deny I was gay. Apparently, it was obvious to everyone. Maybe, it was even obvious to my dad; maybe that’s why he never had much time for me.

“It is?”

“Yes, but that’s not a bad thing. Gay guys are often the most popular boys at school. If Harris allows it, you’ll have all kinds of guys competing for your favors. It’s not like you’re ugly. You’re actually rather cute – for a boy.”

“I am?”

I could only find fault with my looks; my nose was too long, and I didn’t like my chin.

“Yeah, you’re cute; and I don’t particularly go around noticing cute boys. Have you ever done anything with a guy?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want to?”

This time, I nodded.

“You want to blow me? Harris is definitely going to have you blow him; so you might as well practice some.”

“OK.”

Fuck! I had just agreed to blow my roommate; and I couldn’t wait to do it. My cock was ramrod stiff.

Bill stripped while I watched. His cock, hard, was longer than mine, but that wasn’t saying much. Mine wasn’t quite five inches long. Bill lay down on his bed. He grinned.

“Get your clothes off; and I’ll give you a wank after you blow me.”

I took off my clothes but half hid my cock with my hand. I was self conscious about it; I was circumcised and most everyone else at the school was not. We were Jewish, and although my parents weren’t religious, they followed that particular tradition. I had no foreskin at all. Every last bit of it had been cut off.

I crawled in bed with Bill, scooting down as he applied pressure to my shoulders, until my head, my right cheek on his abdomen, was inches above his hard cock. Pre-cum, sticky and stringy, dripped from the slit in its head. I stuck my tongue out, catching his pre-cum on it. The taste surprised me; it was rather sweet.

His hand on the back of my head pushed me down. I opened my mouth and let his cock slide into it, pulling back the foreskin that had still covered the head of his cock even when it was hard.

I wish I’d never been circumcised. I had to use lotion or spit to jack off or my hand rubbed too abrasively on my sensitive cock head.

I felt the rim behind the head of his cock as it slid past my lips; I ran my tongue around it. I loved the feel of his cock in my mouth, smooth and silky but hard underneath, the head soft as a pillow.

As he pushed down on my head, he thrust with his hips, driving his cock into my mouth. I gagged.

“Sorry,” he said.

But if he was, it didn’t slow his thrusting. Deeper and deeper, he drove his cock into my mouth. I gagged at times, but I was getting better at it. Sometimes, his cock slid through my mouth into my throat. With a little practice, I thought I could deep throat him without gagging.

“Oh, fuck – oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

I didn’t know whether to pull away or take his cum in my mouth, but before I could decide, I felt his cock expand and felt his hot spunk spurt into my mouth.

I had tasted mine before, but somehow, hot out of his cock, his tasted different – similar to how mine had tasted, but better somehow, maybe, because it was hotter shot right into my mouth, maybe, because it was his.

Lying with my head on his stomach, I felt his cock soften and let it slide out of my mouth. He pulled me up alongside him and reached for my cock and said, once his hand found it:

“Jesus! How do you wank without a foreskin?”

“Spit on your hand.”

He did; it provided some lubrication; and he jacked me off. It didn’t take much.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

I came, spurting onto my stomach. We lay beside each other, his hand still on my cock. I wanted him to kiss me, but I didn’t ask him for one. He spoke.

“Was I your first?”

“Yeah. I never did anything with anyone before.”

He grinned.

“At least, I got your cherry. You know you’re going to blow Harris before the night is over, don’t you?”

I looked at the clock.

“Oh, shit!”

It was five minutes until seven, and I had to get dressed yet. Chilton had told me not to be late; I’d never make it on time. Fuck!

“I’m late. I gotta go.”

I jumped up, pulled on my clothes, straightened my hair with my fingers, and ran from the room. It was 7:10 when I arrived at his door. I knocked.

“Come in.”

He sounded angry. I opened the door. He was sitting on his bed, leaning back, resting on his elbows.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I…”

I didn’t continue. I couldn’t very well tell him I was late because I was blowing my roommate, could I?”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. You have to be punished. I suppose you know that, don’t you?”

I realized that I wanted him to punish me. I was turned on. MY cock was hard.

“Yes, Sir.”

Looking at my face, seeing something in it, he said:

“You want me to, don’t you? You want me to punish you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Take off your clothes.”

I didn’t protest; I took them off and stood naked for his inspection. As I said, my cock was hard. He looked at it but didn’t touch it.

“Are you Jewish?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Fucking barbaric custom, cutting off a kid’s foreskin.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I agreed with him, but it was too late for me.

“I do turn you on, don’t I?”

I admitted it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re going to blow me; you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And if I want to fuck you, you’ll let me, won’t you?”

That’s not something I’d considered, but I said:

“Yes, Sir.”

“First, you have to be punished. Place your hands on that wall and lean against it.”

He indicated the opposite wall. I leaned against it. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw him pick up a belt. He struck me across the buttocks. It was a sharp, stinging blow. It hurt like hell. I yelped.

He struck me again and again, on the buttock and my upper thighs. Despite the pain – or possibly because of it – I ejaculated, the pleasure I felt from ejaculating comingled with the pain of the whipping. I couldn’t separate the two.

He saw that I had ejaculated.

“I knew you’d be perfect. You’re not just my fag; you’re my slave, aren’t you?”

Through my sobs, I said:

“Yes.”

And I was. I knew I would do anything he asked. I belonged to him. It was as if I’d been born to be his slave.

“Lie down on the bed.”

I did. He took off his clothes. His cock was hard, and it was bigger than Bill’s. His foreskin partially covered the head of his erect cock. I thought it was beautiful. I said so.

“It’s beautiful. Your cock is beautiful.”

I was on my back. He crawled onto the bed between my legs.

“Raise your legs.”

I did.

He spit onto his hand and moistened my hole with his spit. I felt the head of his cock press against it. He thrust with his hips.

“Ow.”

His cock slid inside me. It hurt as it slid past my sphincter, but it was a beautiful hurt. I loved having him inside me.

He fucked me, his cock sliding in and out of my ass, pounding against my prostate. If I’d known if felt this good to be fucked, I would have let someone fuck me long ago. I came, spurting onto my stomach. He came, shooting his spunk up my ass.

Afterward, he lay on top of me, his face beside mine. I felt his breath on my ear. After a moment, he said:

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do anything for me?”

“Yes.”

“You are may slave, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I want to show you something.”

Getting off the bed, he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a picture. He showed it to me. It was a picture of an old painting. In it, a man sat on a throne. In front of him, stood a naked man, an obvious slave; he had a collar around his neck. He had no balls.

He cupped my balls in his hand.

“You know you can’t keep them, don’t you?”

I nodded.

I’d never fantasized cutting off my balls, but I knew he was right. If I were to be his slave, I couldn’t have balls. It wouldn’t be right. In olden times, they had cut off a slave’s balls for a reason, to show him and others that his master was superior to him. Without balls, I would no longer be a boy; I would be a eunuch. I would never be a man; and somehow, I knew that was right for me.

“We’ll do it tomorrow. Meet me at the barn an hour before dinner. We’ll do it then. I’ll do it, but you have to say you did it – understand?”

“Yes.”

“So what happens, when you cut off your balls? Will your parents have you sent home?”

“No. They’re off sailing. Chances are the school won’t even be able to contact them. My parents check in with our attorney – solicitor – when in port, but there’s no one at home, so they can’t send me home. I’ll have to stay here.”

“Good. OK. Meet me at the barn tomorrow after classes are out – say 4:30. We’ll do it then. You have to go out to the barn by yourself; we can’t let anyone see you with me tomorrow. Does anyone know you’re fagging for me?”

“My roommate.”

“What’s his name?”

“Bill Smitherman.”

“Don’t say anything else to him, and don’t tell him I had anything to do with it. Are you having sex with him?”

“I gave him a blow job.”

“OK. Give him a blowjob once in a while to keep him happy, but you only fuck me. Understand? After things settle down, I’ll straighten him out.”

I nodded.

“OK. Get dressed and go back to your room. I’ll see you in the barn tomorrow.”

I left his room, but took a little tour of the school before going back to mine. I walked the hallways, visited the library, saw other students but didn’t talk to any. After tomorrow I would be different. I wouldn’t be Marc Wolman – boy; I would be Marc Wolman – eunuch.

I had no doubt it would hurt – getting my balls cut off; but I knew it was the right thing for me to do. I would be giving Clifton Harris my balls; and he would love me for it.

Bill was in bed but awoke when I came in.

“How did it go? Did you give him a blowjob?”

“No.”

I didn’t tell him that Chilton fucked me or that he was going to cut off my balls the next day. He went back to sleep, but I lay awake thinking about tomorrow.

What would it be like to have no balls? Would I still want to jack off? I knew I wouldn’t accept any hormone replacement; that would be like having artificial balls. If I were to be Chilton’s slave, I couldn’t have balls of any kind.

I fell asleep sometime during the night and awoke when Bill shook me. He wanted more details about what happened during my meeting with Chilton, I just said Chilton hadn’t made a decision yet about having me fag for him. I told him I’d been in the library most of the time.

I walked around in a daze. Could you blame me? I was having my balls cut off. How could I think about anything else?

The barn was through a gate in the back wall of the school grounds. It belonged to the school; they kept sheep and goats in pastures beyond it. I got there early. Chilton was already there. No one else was.

I ran to him; I wanted to throw my arms around him; but I dared not. We weren’t lovers; we were slave and master.

I knelt, bowing, touching my forehead to the floor. I hadn’t meant to do it; I hadn’t planned to do it; I just did it.

“Master, I am yours. All I have is yours.”

Fucking corny, huh? But that’s how I felt.

Chilton didn’t seem to think it was corny or inappropriate.

“Rise, Slave.”

I stood.

“Are you prepared to give your balls to your master?”

“Yes, Lord.”

He was my god, my Apollo. Calling him “Lord” was appropriate.

“Take off your clothes.

I did and stood naked before him.

“Stand in front of that post.”

He pointed to a post supporting a loft in the barn. I didn’t question him; he was master. I stood with my back to the post. He tied my hands behind it.

My cock was hard; and I was ashamed for it. A slave shouldn’t show a hard cock to his master; a slave shouldn’t be able to get his cock hard. Maybe, once I was rid of my balls, it would no longer get hard.

I had liked jacking off, but that was when I was Marc Wolman – boy. I would soon be Marc Wolman – eunuch. I had an idea.

“Master.”

“What?”

“Maybe you should cut off my cock, too.”

He nodded.

“I think you’re right.”

He went into the equipment room coming back a few minutes later with a tool that looked like a big pair of pliers, except that the business end of it was all wrong. He also had a box; in the box were some green rings. They looked something like o-rings for a car, except that they were green.

He fitted a ring on the prongs on the business end of the tool and pressed the handle of the tool expanding the ring. He didn’t tell me what he was going to do with it; and I didn’t ask. I was his slave. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me.

He pulled my balls through the ring and released it. The ring closed around the base of my ball sac. It hurt; I yelped; and I ejaculated – for the last time I supposed.

My cock subsided. He placed another ring around the base of it. That hurt; but not as much as the ring around my ball sac hurt.

He spoke for the first time since tying me to the post.

“That’s to stop the bleeding.”

He put the bander and box of rings on the floor beside me, and took a small knife out of his back pocket. Its blade was curved, the end of it hooked somewhat.

“You know what to say, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“What? What are you going to say?”

I had thought about it most of the night.

“That I did it myself. I’m going to say that I always hated having balls – and my dick; so I cut them off.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing it? I don’t mean what you’re going to tell them. Why are you letting me cut off your balls?”

“Because I love you; and you want them. Because you are my master; and I’m your slave. Because a slave shouldn’t have balls. Once you showed me that picture, I realized I wanted to be like the slave in the picture.”

“Why do you want me to cut off your cock?”

I had just come to this conclusion.

“Because it shames me for it to get hard in your presence, and I’m afraid that even if I don’t have balls, it might still get hard.”

He nodded and took a red shop rag out of his back pocket.

“I’m going to put this rag in your mouth. It’s going to hurt, and you’ll probably scream. We don’t anyone to hear and come running.”

I opened my mouth and he stuffed the rag in it. He smiled at me, reaching for my balls as he did. I felt him place the blade of the knife behind my ball sac.

I screamed; my screams were muffled by the rag; but I screamed. Nothing, not even when I broke my arm two summers ago, hurt so much. It was as if he had plunged the knife into my abdomen while at the same time kicking me in the balls. I thought I was going to throw up, but I didn’t.

He held up my ball sac containing my balls. There was only a little blood. Two oblong, whitish, objects lay inside the pink skin that had once been my ball sac. He dropped them onto the floor.

I watched as he placed the knife at the base of my cock. He cut it off. Once again, I screamed into the gag, but having my cock cut off didn’t hurt as much as having my balls cut off; or maybe my brain wasn’t capable of registering greater pain. He held up my cock. It was pitiful, small and drained of blood as it was. Placing it on the floor, he cut it in several pieces.

“We can’t have them sewing it back on, can we?”

He untied me; I sank to the floor clutching my groin after pulling the rag out of my mouth.

“Ow…ow…ow…it hurts.”

“You knew it would. Are you sorry you did it?”

Well technically, he had done it; but I shook my head. As much as it had hurt – as much as I still hurt – I was glad.

“OK. I’m leaving; I was never here. Got that?”

I nodded. I had my teeth clenched and didn’t trust myself to speak. I was trying not to sob.

“Someone will be along. You should probably stay here until they come. If you try walking you might dislodge one or both of the bands.”

He looked at his watch.

“Someone will be here in thirty minutes or less. I have to go.”

He left.

“What the fuck?” one of the caretakers said, when he saw me sitting naked on the floor of the barn clutching my groin. He didn’t even ask me what happened; he went for help.

The school doctor provided me with first aid, but an ambulance came for me and took me to the hospital. Since my cock was in four pieces, they didn’t try to reattach it. They stitched me up and I had a catheter in for a couple of weeks.

I had a vertical pink scar where my cock and balls had been. Chilton had left about a half inch of cock and some ball sac and cords, so the bands would stay on, but by the time they got me to the hospital, that was dead, and they cut it off.

Eventually, the scar would be pretty well covered by my pubic hair, but they had shaved it off, and it was only grown out about a quarter inch.

They hadn’t caught up to my parents, and I was able to convince the shrink and the school authorities that I’d done all the damage to myself I intended to do.

“No, I don’t want to be a girl; I just always hated having a penis and testicles. I’m fine now I’m rid of them.”

I moved back in with Bill; Chilton was an upperclassman; I couldn’t room with him. We had to room with a boy in our own class. It was fine with Bill that I no longer had a cock or balls. With Chilton’s permission, I blew him now and then. He was the only one that knew I had been to Chilton’s room or had even talked to him, before “I” cut off my balls.

After I became Chilton’s fag, I was called into the dean’s office.

“Did Chilton Harris have anything to do with your sexual mutilation?”

“No. I didn’t even know him then.”

“You aren’t his first fag to cut off his testicles.”

“Oh. What happened to the other one? Is he still here?”

“No, he went home. Are you sure Harris had nothing to do with it?”

“No. Like I said, I didn’t even know him then.”

He didn’t ask if I was sucking or fucking Chilton. That students might be having sex with one another was a subject best left unexplored. He had been a public school boy. He knew what happened in the rooms at night.

I wasn’t ostracized for having no dick and balls; I was Chilton Harris’s fag; more than that, I was his slave. I belonged to him; and that gave me status.

I don’t know what will happen when school is out this summer. It’s Chilton’s last year; he won’t be back next year; and I don’t know whether I will be back. I don’t know what my parents will do, when they return to find their only son has cut off his dick and balls. How do I explain to them I was meant to be a slave?

If I do return to school, I’ll find someone else to serve, even if it’s only Bill Smitherman. I don’t worship Bill as I do Chilton, but he’s male, and I’m eunuch. I could serve him.

If I stay at school and become an upperclassman entitled to a fag, I will serve my fag, not have him serve me. He’ll have balls; he’ll have a dick; I won’t.