Ayzintion City - The Boy with the Golden Cream

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.

Was it only a year ago?

My apothecary shop is in the central city, and it is there that the potions are made. Some work, and some do not, at least not always, but they have been handed down from generation to generation and if there is a sickness or a fever or an infection it is there that you will be drawn. The gall bladder of the black bear is infamous, and can be used for more than one hundred things. The horn of the deer, and the marrow of the rabbit are all useful, and with the knowledge they are turned into potions of magic. The shell of the box turtle, and the ground root of the Arrow tree are also legendry. Monkshood, Death Camus, Marsh Marigold and Fireweed are all used in one way or the other. The eye of the tiger is filled with a powerful infection fighter, and the teeth of the Lion, when ground to dust can help young children beat the fever. There are more than a hundred wild mushrooms that are worth knowing, and when mixed in the right proportions they have cured some men with a single taste. Some potions are easy to make, and the raw materials from which they are made are plentiful and easy to find.

The potions made from the contents of the scrotum buckets are the easiest of all to make, as the balls are sliced and dried and then ground into powder. There is never a shortage of balls, not in this city there is not, although in other provinces and other lands dried balls from men are more difficult to obtain. We sell a lot of that potion, a lot, and so we are always taking the buckets and making the testicular powder that is in such demand. One reason it sells well is that it works, and it is amazing what can happen when you use the powder in the way it is prescribed. As an aphrodisiac there is none better. Still, as well as it works and as rare as it is in some places on earth, there are many things that are much rarer than the common balls of slaves.

Sometimes the things that are needed must be found from distances far away. And then there are some potions that are so rare that they exist only in our literature, and the search for them never ceases. The powered horn of the unicorn is such a potion, and it is rarer than rare, and the small amount that is left in the city's shop is more than 200 years old. Still, I've seen it work miracles first hand, and so it must be saved for only the most desperate of cases. If only I could find more!

But the Golden Powder is the rarest of all the potions on earth, and until that fateful day there was none of it in my shop. It was reported to be a life saving powder, tinged with a yellow color as if it was made from gold itself. No one I knew had ever seen this powder, and yet the literature is full of descriptions of how to make it and what it can do. But, like the horn of the unicorn, it is not the making of the potion that is so difficult. Rather, it is the finding of the materials from which to make it that is the challenge.

Still, I searched, and I dreamed. The powder I wanted to have is so rare that it is written that even the chance to make it comes but once in a thousand years, and then only if the circumstances are right and a boy can be found. Still, if only I could find it! According to the ancient texts, this powder can cure anything, and it is reported that a single grain can extend a life more than twenty years. Where does it come from you ask? Well, this powder is made from the ground balls of a boy who shoots the rarest of cream. A cream of gold...golden cream, and that is as rare as anything from anywhere can be.

According to the writings, it can only come from a boy. And, it cannot come from any boy. Almost all men, young or old, shoot a white cream when they empty their balls, even when they are doing it for their first time or their last. While the thickness varies with the age and the time since the last ejaculation, the cream from one man looks pretty much like the cream from another.

However, in the ancient literature of the city it is written that every great once in a while, there will come along a boy who will begin his first steps into manhood by shooting a golden cream, rich, like butter; yellow like the sun and as perfect and as pure as anything on earth. The boy will of course be a virgin, and as pure as the sun in the sky. Even so, his moment of chance will not last, and as the boy moves through adolescence his cream will change color and the golden color will soon be lost and with it the special properties of his balls.

Of course, I had never seen anyone produce such a cream, and in a city where slaves are cut everyday that is saying something. I've seen a lot of men shoot their loads, a thousand at least and perhaps more than that, and even when they are losing their balls and squirting out their last wads with a final grunt I've never seen anything but loads that are clear or white. Sometimes, on market days, I'll go to the cutting rooms just to watch, to watch the slaves jerk and twist and shoot their final load of cream, each time hoping, praying even, to find a wad that squirts like gold. Of course, I had never seen that, but I looked, and perhaps that's why I enjoy watching the slaves as they are cut and empty their balls for their last time. I used to have hope, but over the years I had lost it, one ejaculation at a time, one severed scrotum after another. So, I have to say I was skeptical, but even so I knew to look. And I'm not stupid either. Even though I'm skeptical, I'd left word too, for everyone in the cutting yard, so that if anyone ever saw a golden wad then the balls would be saved and I would be summoned.

So, you can see, why personally, when I first heard the rumors that night a year ago I grew excited, but still I did not get up any false hopes. However, the source of the rumors was solid, and the runner had come straight form the slave yards as soon as it had happened. But even as I listened, and heard it be told, I knew the chances for a mistake were high. Still, I had to see, and if there was actually a living boy who was shooting the golden cream then I knew I had to have him, no matter the costs. It would have been a gift, straight from heaven, and there was no way I could not check it out. I wanted to go see him immediately of course, but there were negotiations that had to be accomplished and deals to be made. Still, I knew I would prevail, and after the diegos were paid it was time to see the boy.

He was down in the slave yards, and had come in from the southern province with the last contingent. He was young, and scared, and dirty. Still, he hadn't been cut, or sold, and they were holding him for me, and as soon as I saw him my heart began to race. There was just something about him that was different, and yet it was only a feeling. Now, the boy didn't look like much when I first saw him, but I didn't care if it was true and so I could hardly contain myself until I found out.

He was wearing a ring of iron around his right ankle and he was chained to a peg in the floor. The room was empty, and he was just sitting in the dirt, doing nothing. His untouched meal was on a stand next to him, and the room stank where he had done his business. He was shirtless, but they still had let him keep his thong and it was tied in place around him, covering up his genitals. He was young. I could see that. He had blondish hair, with a tint of red in it, and it was disheveled and his bangs hung down to his eyes. I liked his freckles that seemed to be painted across his nose and upper cheeks, and they were even spattered across his thin, adolescent shoulders. I liked his nipples too, bright pink and tight, the little tips pointed as if he was cold. As I looked at him he looked at me, and I felt my own dick stir within my pants.

I noted his body was firm, perfect really, and the way the light was shining in and highlighting his hair make him seem somehow special. He stood up when I entered the room, and stared at me. His stomach was flat, and it had the hatched box pattern made with his muscles, the perfection of a growing youth just beginning to sprout his way into manhood. His legs appeared hairless, and I noticed a small scar on his knee. I wondered where he had gotten it, although it was long since healed.

I looked hard at him, and then I said: "What is your name boy?"

The boy looked down, at the dirt on the floor, and then he looked back at me and I stared into his big, hazel eyes. Finally, he whispered "Logan."

I smiled, and he looked down again, as if there was something to see on the floor. Finally, he slowly looked back up at me. Then I asked him "So Logan...Logan of the southern province, how old are you?"

The youth closed his lips and his hazel eyes sparkled, and then he said "Sire....I, I will be fourteen on the first of the month. I have grown up in a poor home, with parents that cared nothing about me. Now, it's even worse, and I don't want to live my life as a slave, not for anyone. My parents are dead, and they took my sister. Our shack of a home was destroyed. I have nothing left, nothing. I wish I was dead.

I went to him then, close, until we were almost touching. I walked behind him, and then I whispered into his ear: "So Logan....tell me....if I gave you your freedom, set you free, and clothed you and took care of you and made you like my son, made you rich even, would you then want to die?"

He gasped, and stared straight ahead, across the room, feeling my breath on his neck and saying nothing. Finally, he shook his head, and then he said "No....if I was free I would want to live." As he said that, I reached to his thong and loosened the knot, letting it fall to the dirt floor. The boy gasped, and he swallowed, and I could feel him grow tense and his muscles twitched. He was scared, and I could sense it in the way he breathed. Still, he said nothing, and he didn’t move at all. Finally, he turned his head, trying to look at me as I was behind him now, and our eyes met again.

I said "I won't hurt you....but I need to know something. Will you trust me?"

He nodded, and I took his cock into my hand. It was small, and uncut, and it was soft in my hand as I felt his noodle. I looked over his shoulder, and down his smooth chest, and stared at the boy's little dick resting in my palm. The boy's foreskin almost covered his dick, almost, but the little tip of the end of it was visible, the skin pulled back just enough so I could just see the very tip and his young piss hole. His chest was smooth, and his armpits were devoid of any hair. Still, there was a wisp of pubic hair, just a splash of fine hair that had just begun to grow. It was reddish blond, like the hair on his head, and pure and so short it was hard to see. It was hardly enough to even call it pubic hair, and yet it was something I suppose. I ran my fingers through the few strands of it, and then I reached down further, and hefted his young balls.

They were totally hairless, as smooth as a baby's ass, his sac hanging down, loose, and low. Very low. As I felt his balls they seemed large to me, larger than I would have expected on so young a boy. They were heavy too, and as I hefted them my heart began to beat faster. Perhaps he was the one. Perhaps. I knew I had to find out, and so I dropped his balls and reached for his shaft.

He was staring straight ahead now, staring, letting me touch him and feel him. I assumed since he had been in the slave market he was used to it, and I whispered in his ear the question I had to know: "Has anyone defiled you? Have they hurt you?"

He stared straight ahead, and swallowed. Then he shook his head no, and then he said "I...I am a virgin sire, if that is what you want to know. Please...please don't hurt me. I don't want to be sold and used."

I whispered back to the boy: "Logan...I have no intention of hurting you right now...and I won't let anyone use you. But I need to know something. Trust me, and enjoy the feeling. How long have you been able to....to cum?"

"To do what sir?" he asked.

I looked at him, and said "To cum...to ejaculate. I heard that you squirted out your seed yesterday in the slave yard. How long have you been doing that?"

I could feel him tense with the question. Then he said "Sire...I...I just only the other day felt it...had the feeling and then it just came out. A slave buyer was touching me....like you are now....and it just felt good and then it came out and then they all started talking rapidly and then they were yelling and after that I was taken here. I didn't know what had happened....I knew I had done something wrong but I couldn't help it. They seemed upset by it and when I squirted out the mess I was so embarrassed. It only happened yesterday."

I gripped his shaft tighter then, and then, slowly, very slowly I began to slide his skin up and down the boy's shaft. His little cock was short, about two and a half inches, like a nub, and yet as I began to work it I saw it begin to grow. I continued stroking him until he grew hard in my hand. It didn’t take long, and the boy was breathing in short, little excited breaths, in and out and in and out. Finally, his cock was rock hard, like a piece of bone, and as I worked the skin up and down over his little boner I could see it was bouncing to his heartbeat.

From the base of my thumb to the end of my finger is six inches in length. The boy's dick was almost that long, now that it was boned, and as I looked at it, at his five and three-quarter inch long erection something caught my attention. On the very tip, was a single bead of fluid, and as I looked it seemed to be catching the light of the sun. Yellow? God, was it really yellow? My heart pounded in my chest. His dick was beautiful, and oh-so-perfect, and as I worked his skin up and down faster and faster the boy began to gasp.

I had my left hand around his flat stomach, and my head was bent over his left shoulder, watching, watching his dick as I worked it in my hand. I was holding his cock straight up, and working the skin, and the boy started breathing hard and then he said "Sire..oh....oh sire.....oh God.....oh...ohhhhhhhhhh" and then he came. His cock just oozed out his fluid, up from inside of his nuts and out of his shaft, pumping out as he jerked and his body spasmed in ecstasy.

Yellow. God! It WAS yellow....YELLOW! Like gold! I had found him...the boy with the golden cream! He was in my hands and as I watched the youth spurt out his cum I stared and stared and stared. It came up and out and he shuddered, and as I pumped him and stared I could feel my own heart racing. It was all true....all of it, and I knew then, he would be mine. His balls were more special and more rare than anything on earth, and of course I would have to have them. But I also swore this boy would never be a slave, never, and after I had taken his balls I would set him free.

I worked his cock until his balls were empty, and he was staring, breathing....gasping for air as he finished his orgasm. Finally, done, I kissed him, gently, on his cheek, and told him that I would be back for him. I promised him he would never be a slave, and that I would set him free. Then, the promise made, I left him then, to make the arrangements and to start the preparations so I could take his balls.

I hired a young cutter, a seventeen year old, because he was good and he had a reputation and he was young himself. Somehow I thought it was more appropriate for one boy to unman another, rather than have some older man destroy the boy's perfect manhood. The job itself would be easy, as his nuts were so young and tender that I knew the blade would slice them quickly and there would be virtually no resistance as the blade went through them. I wanted the actual cutting to be quick, and as painless as possible, but it was also very important that it be done right because I needed him to live. I liked the boy, and I intended to keep my promise and to set him free.

But first, I had to take his balls. And to do that, I knew I had to have an audience, and the boy had to cum before we cut him. That was very important, because the powder would be valueless if there were no witnesses to verify the purity of its source. I had read all the literature, and I knew how to make it, and so I gathered everything together and set aside a week to do it. I picked the first of the month for his castration, because the sun would be higher and hotter by then and besides I needed a few weeks to milk the cream.

Of course, he was watched, constantly, and he was kept tied with his arms held apart so he wasn’t able to touch himself until it was time for his milking. I had to gather his cream and have that all done a week before his castration, because it was imperative that his balls be as full as possible on the day we took them. I knew he had to have a good wad, and I knew it had to be enough that everyone could see it. If he did not produce the yellow cream then everything was pointless and the fortune I could have made would then be nothing.

The days past, and I worked on getting things ready. Making the powder would be easy. First, we harvested his cream, and that went extremely well. For the boy, it was enough of a new sensation that he actually looked forward to squirting for us. For a boy he had a thick wad, and he pumped out his yellow semen for us twice a day. I only needed enough cream to fill the smallest container, because I only needed it to dye the powder.

I had the plan, and I went over it in my mind. Once his balls were taken, they would be put on ice, and then taken straight to the shop where I would slice them thin and lay them out in the hot sun to dry. Once, dried, they would be ground until they were a powder, and then the powder of his balls would be mixed with the golden cream we were taking from the boy and storing for that purpose. Then, finally, the wet powder would be spread out and dried again, and then reground once more until it was fine and light like flour. Of course, it would be yellow too at that point, and it would make me rich and famous.

Finally, everything was ready, and it was time for it to happen. The crowd that day was huge, and I will never forget it. It seemed the entire city had come out to watch, to see if the rumor was really true. They wanted to see it, to see the golden cream and to see the boy who could make it. Everyone that was anyone was there, and the stands had to be enlarged and the table was made special just for his nutting. For that day, for the day of his castration, everything was shut down and the city was so quiet is was scary.

He was dragged in, with a ball-less slave on each of his arms. I had made them dress the boy in silk robes, and he was clean and his strawberry blond hair was clipped and neat. What contrast from when I had first seen him! The boy had been told, and he was scared, but it was time and it was his destiny and so I did not feel bad about it being done. Still, his hazel eyes darted, looking at the crowd and the table, and as he was dragged to it he struggled, hard, and desperate, the way all men struggle when they are being dragged to where their balls will be stolen from them. The crowd seemed to enjoy that, and they seemed eager to watch the golden boy's castration.

The boy was special, and I wanted everyone to know it. Around his neck he wore a collar....studded with emeralds, and the bracelets he wore were polished metal with four ruby's inlaid in each one. They glistened in the sunlight. The restraint rings had been made in the blacksmith's shop, and they were of hard metal and then had been dipped in silver. With the ruby's catching the light they had everyone's attention. The boy wore them on each wrist, and one also just above each knee, and they had been made to do more than look pretty.

As the boy was dragged to the table, the eunuch slaves dragging him to his fate removed his robes. Around the boys waist was a belt, and it was black leather and was studded with jewels that matched the bands he wore. They dragged the boy up, onto the table, so that he was facing up, and as his head jerked about he could see the audience that was seated off to the sides. The amphitheater was big, and the ceiling was open and the sun shined in and seemed to highlight the boy. His wrist cuffs were snapped to the table, and his belt was hooked down so that he could not move.

His neck ring had two loops, which were attached to the table, so that his head was held down to the surface. Finally, his legs were pulled over the edge, and then the knee bracelets were secured to the table's edge itself, by two steel pegs that were there for that purpose. The knee restraints pulled his legs wide apart and exposed his genitals to everyone in the room. His legs were pulled so wide apart that the boy grunted, and after that he was exposed and his balls seemed to be just waiting to be taken. Finally, from underneath the table they pulled two loops of rope down and slipped them around his ankles, so that his legs were bent back and held out of the way.

The process of tying him down went quickly, and with the restraints in place the boy's movement was totally restricted. Then, after he was in place, they pulled a pin in the table's base and tilted the top. It had been made so it could pivot, and so after he was secured to it they just raised the end up, where his balls were, until they were at that perfect height and hanging there for the taking. His head was lower now, and his cute little prick was laying flat and scared across his belly, hanging down and facing his chin as he was tilted with his balls up in the air. They re-pinned the table then in that position, so the boy was held that way, his head down and his balls up, legs spread and parted and waiting and with his entire scrotum hanging loose and ready.

The boy's beautiful body was ready for his gelding, even if the boy himself was not.

Along the edge of the table was a stand, and in the center of the stand was a small little glass vial, and it was full of the boys golden cream that had been milked from him in the previous weeks. The little glass vial was sitting in a bowl of snow, taken from the high mountains, and keeping it fresh and pure. It was there of course to show everyone, and once the boy had spurted and everyone saw it was true, then after that his balls could be taken and the powder could be made.

Next to the vial was another bowl, but this one was made of gold, and it was filled with snow but otherwise, empty. It was there waiting, obviously waiting for the boy's balls, and as the boy glanced to it he knew it immediately. Next to the bowl was the knife, the gelding knife, and the inlaid ivory handle seemed somehow simple, even crude perhaps, the curved steel blade razor sharp and honed that very morning to perfection. The boy took it all in, and he was scared, very scared, and yet he was also so ashamed that his face was red with the humiliation of what was going to be done to him.

The room was crowded and packed with people. We were all ready, eager even, and it was time.

The cutter I had hired appeared then, and he smiled and looked up at us. I waved to him, and nodded, and he nodded back to me. We understood each other perfectly. Next to him was a young girl, and I guessed her to be younger than the cutter but older than the boy on the table. I had known a girl was coming, but I had not seen her until this moment. It was a nice touch, and she was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, which matched the silk robe that the boy had been wearing. She had big tits, and a nice, perfect body to go with them.

I had requested that a girl be used. She was there for one purpose, and it seemed somehow fitting that it would be a teenage girl that would make him cum. Of course, for the boy waiting for it to be done, he had never so much as had a woman look at him. Not the way she was looking at him now. The boy was looking at her too, as she looked at him, and as I watched his dick stirred, and it started to grow, moving on his belly as he took the sight of her in.

The cutter reached up to his balls, and put the leather loop around them, pulling it up to the top of his sac and making the knot of his trade. He had made the locking cinch knot, but he did not drawn it tight, because I had told him that I didn’t want the boy's balls cinched off before he squirted. But the knot was in place, ready, and the loop was closed far enough to keep his balls in the bottom of his scrotum. I knew that with a quick pull the knot could be closed, tying off his nuts in an instant so they could be taken.

The boy of course had to feel that, as it was done, but the knot wasn't tight and there wasn’t' any pain. He was tilting his head up though, straining, trying to see what was being done with his scrotum. She had moved towards him though, to the edge of the table, and so he ended up watching her, but he could only tilt his neck as far as his collar would allow. His neck had been secured to the table itself, limiting his movement and making sitting up impossible. The girl approached the boy then, leaning closer, and she smiled, and then slowly, she leaned over and kissed him, deep, on his lips...lingering there as her right hand moved to his pole.

It occurred to me he was fourteen. Exactly. His birthday, and as a present he was feeling his first girl....feeling her light touch and her soft skin, feeling her wet lips as she kissed him and living the experience as she took his shaft and began to work her hand up and down its length. The boy's eyes were wide then, staring, and she stopped kissing him and began to whisper as she worked his cock up and down.

Luckily, I was close enough to hear her. "Logan....you are so special....so very special....I like feeling you.... do you like it.... feeling me touching you.... do you? I see that you do..... oh... oh if we had some time we could have some great fun. I like your cock Logan.....I do....I like it a lot. Do you like me stroking you? I want you to enjoy me Logan...it's your birthday and I want you to enjoy this as I make you cum."

The fourteen year old virgin teen was staring at the girl, into her eyes, listening to her every word. As she was leaning over him, her blouse opened and the boy could see her tits....less than a foot from his face. He stared at them, and his mouth opened and he licked his lips. Still, she worked his pole. It grew stiff, in her hand, his five and three quarter inches of teenage manhood jutting up, ready and hard and oh-so-eager. He was feeling her pumping him, working his boy shaft up and down, one teenager holding another, a teen girl and a teen boy living the moment together, even as we all watched. If only it could have lasted forever!

As her right hand stroked his cock, her left hand toyed with his left nipple....feeling it....running little circles around it. She licked her finger, and then sat it back on his nipple, working the boy's tit in tight little circles. Her touch was so soft! He bucked his hips then, up hard against the belt that was attached to the table, bucking his hips almost as if he was trying to force his cock into her hand. He slammed his head down in frustration, feeling the feeling, knowing even so that by feeling it he was moving himself closer to his own unmanning.

He started to struggle then, hard, jerking against his restraints and trying desperately to pull his hands free and to jerk his legs closed. He sensed the feeling building, and he didn’t want it to happen. Oh GOD....not yet. Not yet! He fought hard. Boy, he did not want to lose his balls!

I was seated so I had a good view of his scrotum, and it was hanging down, loose, his balls like weights hanging in the bottom of his miracle sac. As he struggled his sac full of balls swung beneath his legs, hanging there full and heavy. His scrotum was totally hairless, and it contrasted with the little wisp of reddish blond hair that was beginning to sprout around the root of his erection. The boy was just barely into manhood, and it seemed a shame to nut him so young. Well, there was no way to wait....the gold cream would not last forever, and to be effective the balls that made it needed to be harvested before his semen changed color.

I was close enough to see the light hair that dusted his legs and thighs. It was blond, and if the light from the sun wasn't shining on him you would never have been able to see it. It wasn't much, but it was apparent that he was sprouting into manhood, and yet as I looked at his smooth chest and his bald armpits I knew he still had a long way to go. His hole was visible, and it was hairless, although there were a few hairs growing along his crack and they were beginning to darken some. Ah, the push to manhood, what a magical trip it is! Of course, for this boy, he would never complete the journey.

I looked at the two eunuch slaves that were standing to the side, watching the boy and his balls that were bouncing to the motions of the girls hand on his cock. Was it envy in their looks? I don't know, but they were staring, longing, watching his scrotum and the outline of his twin orbs that were stuffed inside. As his teenage balls wiggled from the motions of his cock, the eunuchs seemed mesmerized and almost eager even, their interest keen and almost anxious as they waited to watch those balls get taken.

The cutter was in front of the boy, between his legs, waiting, waiting for the boy to shoot so he could take his balls. We were all aware of it, of what we were waiting on, and I prayed that the boy would shoot and his cream would stay yellow. This was the moment, the moment of truth, and everything, EVERYTHING, was in the balance as the girl worked his cock.

I took in the cutter. At seventeen, he looked handsome, and I noticed he had not tried to shave in a while. He had a wisp of black hair anointing his upper lip, and his sideburns had grown down and were beginning to thicken. His hair was dark brown, and with his beginning of a mustache it was apparent he was trying to look older than he was. Still, his chin and cheeks and neck were smooth, although there were a few long blondish hairs hanging there, as if they had started to grow before the others but had yet to darken. His cheeks likewise had a fuzz, like the fuzz on a peach, tender, sweet, and oh-so-innocent.

As I stared at him I noticed he was watching the boy's sac, watching his balls and the hand of the girl as she pumped his cock. I also noticed the young cutter was hard, his pants stuck out, stiff and tented, with his teenage cock eager with the anticipation of what was coming.

Logan could see none of this. The girl was in front of the boy's face, keeping her tits there, so he could see them and stare at them and dream about reaching out for them. His eyes were wide, staring, feeling the feeling as she worked his cock's skin up and down and up and down. Then he said his first words: "Oh...oh GOD....that feels so good........"

She smiled, and began to stroke him faster, picking up the pace and working her hand faster and faster and faster. The boy started bucking his hips...his eyes even wider...staring at the girl. Then he said "No...oh no...don't.....please......you're making me cum....don't.......they'll take my balls if you make me cum!"

She whispered "It's ok Logan....its ok......go with the feeling.....enjoy it.....ignore them...forget the crowd....just enjoy the feeling as I stroke your cock."

I leaned forward in my seat to watch. I could see the boy's expression then, and I knew he was getting close. The cutter sensed it too, and he reached up and picked up his gelding knife. He repositioned the gold bowl, the one waiting for the boy's nuts, and placed it on a shelf beneath his balls that had been built there for that purpose. Then, he waited, waited for the boy to shoot. We were all waiting, watching, as the boy gasp and the girl pumped his rod. I noticed his nipples has turned to points.

Logan started begging. "Please...oh....oh stop....oh God...I'm going to shoot......oh GOD....STOP...oh STOPPP, please....... oh... oh ...........OHHHHH... AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Suddenly, it started coming out, from deep within the young teenager. His spurts were initially fast, and hard, and his cream jetted out of his cock as the boy gasped with an open mouth. Of course, it had been more than a week since we had last let him cum, and prior to that we had milked him everyday. The daily milking had energized his balls, and they were now producing all they could, and when we suddenly had deprived them of their daily release they had literally filled up with cream and left him extremely frustrated. Now, on his birthday, it was all spurting out with a vengeance in the most violent and satisfying orgasm of his life.

The sunlight caught it all, and it was gold in color, pure, flowing like melted butter as his balls pumped out his magic semen and flooded it down his belly. Because of the angle of the table, his yellow cream squirted across his stomach and down his chest in lines of golden cum, laying like yellow ropes across his belly and running down all the way to his neck. He squirted and squirted, and then after that he just pumped more and more, the boy's wad pumping out and flowing from his dick while everyone watched in awe.

The boy grunted as he came, his huge stored up load of yellow semen something to see. It reminded me of honey, sweet and pure and oh-so-perfect, and as his orgasm began to wane it just oozed from his cock continuously in pump after pump after pump. For the girl working his cock, she just grinned and grinned. She pumped him still, working his cock up and down, milking it, and as she was doing that the cutter grabbed the end of the leather that was tied and loosly caressing his nuts.

He snapped the ends of the cord hard, and the knot jerked tight, very tight, and the boy threw his head back and suddenly gasped and after that he bucked his hips like a wild man. You could tell it hurt then, the shock of the tie like a kick in the balls, and the boy bucked his hips and fought like with a desperation that only one being castrated can truly understand. The young boy was in panic then, and no matter what was being said to him he struggled hard, fighting his restraints and bucking his hips even as his prick still pulsated and ebbed out the last of his golden goo.

The teenage girl started talking as the cutter picked up his knife. "Logan....don't struggle so.....I'm here, and I'm with you......it won't last long.....just feel it....feel it and try and enjoy it. They need your balls.....don't fight it so."

Of course, for the fourteen year old boy, who was facing his imminent castration, which was now at hand, he was in a total panic. He fought against his restraints, even as the girl held his rod which was still stiff and hard. He was jerking desperately with his feet and knees, trying to pull them together and to protect his balls. It was hopeless of course; but like every man who is facing the knife, he fought with all that he had. The cutter picked up his knife, and pulled out on the boy's sac, stretching his loose scrotum and pulling down on the balls within it. Then, he rotated the knife, so that the edge of the blade was underneath of his sac, high, up against the tie and ready to make the pull.

Time seemed to stand still then, as the boy screamed "NO...NO! NO! PLEASE...NO! DON'T.....DON'T.....NOT MY BALLS....DON'T TAKE MY BALLS!!!!!"

The girl had one hand on his hair, petting him, caressing him as she looked down into his eyes. Her tits were there and the boy could see them, even as he felt the knife and felt his sac being stretched out for the cut. He stared, wide eyed, feeing the feeling as he stared at the girl. Still, she couldn't quiet him.

"NO! DON'T TAKE THEM! DON'T! OH GOD....OH GOD.......... DON'T... DON'T.... NOT MY BALLS!!!!!"

The girl was holding his cock, still gently sliding his foreskin up and down its length, and the boy was staying hard as he stared into her tits. Everything hung in the balance. Life, death, manhood nothing. It was that single moment, frozen, for a priceless second, between everything and nothing, between being a man and not, the rise through boyhood frozen, on the verge of being stopped, a budding lifetime of lust to be stolen away and taken forever.

The sun was bright, and the blade glinted like a spot of light, and the room was so quiet you could hear the wind through the city.

Then, fast, the teenage cutter just jerked his fist, so hard and so quick that the blade passed through the top of the boy's teenage sac in a blur and the eye couldn't follow it. As he did so Logan's balls came free, dropping into the bowl that the cutter had set waiting for them. Everything then seemed to happen at once. The cutter himself ejaculated, squirting out his load of white cream and pumping it with such intensity that it shot right through the cotton fabric of his pants.

Logan came again at the same instant, which I think, surprised everyone, as he squirted out two more shots from his stiff little prick. They flew up, into the sunlight like shimmering strings of gold, before coming back down on his chest. It was just a squirt-squirt, but it was bright and yellow and intense and as it happened it made me smile.

The audience watching gasped, and then they roared. The castrated teenager shuddered, and his entire body seemed to spasm with the cut. The girl still held his cock, and ran her thumb over the tip which was wet with his slime. Then, she held it upright, so that the cutter could come to it. The boy's balls rested on the snow in the bowl, and I was watching them quiver as they slowly died. They looked even bigger in the bowl, his sac of nuts resting there, unattached, no longer really his but now mine instead, quivering and pulsating as if they themselves were in shock of what had happened.

The girl moved out of the way, although she still held onto the base of Logan's rod, steadying it. The cutter's face was red, with his embarrassment, and his pants were stained and I could see him turn to hide it. It made me laugh. Then, with one task left to accomplish, the cutter moved to the new eunuch, and took the tip of his dick and stretched out the boy's foreskin. Logan stared, and the girl leaned over and kissed him again. She was still kissing him when the cutter took the tip of his blade and pushed it through the skin there, rolling the blade up and under his shaft. The boy struggled, and the girl held him tight, and he jerked against his restraints as he felt the pain in his dick.

The circumcision went quickly, and then it was done, and the cutter tossed the severed foreskin onto the dirt floor and left it for the dogs. Then, the cutter took some styptic powder from my shop, and covered the boy's cock, which stemmed the bleeding immediately although it stung like hell. Finally, he took a cauterization iron and touched the spot below the tie, where the boy's balls had been taken. There wasn't any blood there, but still, with a wisp of smoke he made sure and then it was done and the boy's neutering was complete.

I had him circumcised because I like the look. For the boy, it was the final indignity of course. The boys cock was still hard, but it started to deflate rapidly then, the purple head of his prick still oozing, his round knob glistening with its sudden exposure. The boy stared at his dick, seeing it now exposed like he had never seen it before, looking at his ball-less cock and staring at it with disbelief. As he watched, his last erection waned to nothing. For the boy with the golden cream it was too much, and he collapsed then, spent, unmanned, a circumcised eunuch and now castrated and empty. Between his legs his severed balls were resting on the snow in the little golden bowl. As I looked at them, I had the thought that the boy's rush into manhood was over.

The cutter left then, humiliated from the wad he had shot, and the rest of the crowd began to dissipate. Everyone seemed in good spirits and there was lots of laughter. I can remember the celebration afterwards, and I remember the congratulations for what I had found. Yes, I remember it all as if it happened yesterday.

Now, a year later, I think back and know I have kept all of my promises. The boy recovered, if you can call his life as a eunuch a recovery. Still, I have treated him as a son. I set him free, as I promised, but he chose to stay, and over the many months since it has been done he has worked in the shop, handling the potions and grinding the balls and learning the trade. We still have the Golden Powder, and we protect it as the most valuable substance on earth.

When one of the elders fractured his arm and the infection had threatened to kill him, we dared then to use a few grains and made a last minute effort to save him. I figured it was hopeless, but it turned out that a miracle occurred, and now, more than ever, my business is booming and my life is secure. Logan and I continue to get to know one another, and over the years to come I will make him rich and famous in his own right. I guess I owed it to him.

[Authors note: © Copyright March, 2003. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.]