My First Nickel

Now we were both in our mid-forties and Nickel was slowing down and not carrying his share of the field work. So called in the Arab slave buyer I dealt with.

I had Nickel brought to the cutting shed where we I had a plan to get more money from the slave than his age would warrant. Nickel was brought in and stood naked in front of us. He was oiled to make him look younger. The oil it had matted his dark body hair and showed off his heavy musculature. He was nervous when he saw the buyer, more nervous being in the gelding room. I smiled and made him kneel in front of us. I glanced at his foreskin where some oil was dripping off the ring that held him closed.

The buyer motioned him closer and Nickel walked on his hands and knees and waited patiently as the man examined his points. I enjoyed looking at his heavy balls hanging down between his big legs. Nostalgia made me feel kind of teary eyed. I’d spent many happy hours stuck inside that good looking ass of his.

“Where are his teeth?” the man asked, making himself sound jocular as he probed Nickel’s mouth.

“Ah, that!” I answered. “Yes, I had the front teeth taken out years ago. I like to use his mouth for sex and I needed to protect myself from his sharp teeth.”

“I see…how is he on that level?”

“He is the most excellent cock sucker you could wish!” I said. “I have spent hours lodged in his mouth while he worked to please me.”

“May I?” he asked.

I nodded and made Nickel service the man with his skilled mouth and tongue.

“Aahhh!” the man closed his eyes and put his head back and thrust forth his hips. Nickel worked his magic on the man.

“Yes, this is excellent,” the man said allowing the slave free range on his ugly cock. The man stiffened and yelled out in ecstasy as he grabbed Nickel’s hair and pushed him all the way down on his cock and lodged his orgasm into the hot throat. I knew that feeling, being buried in that hot hole stiff and throbbing while Nickel’s head was clamped between my thighs. The man finished then had Nickel pour him some hot tea. In a brief time he returned to business.

“I see he is ringed…” the man said.

“Yes, my father did that when we were young…” I hesitated. Well, he would find out.

“He seems to have a small cock for ringing,” the man commented.

“Well,” I laughed, “It used to be much bigger, but my father chopped off half of it when we were boys.”

The man was interested. “But he still has his foreskin?”

“Yes – tell the story Nickel. I like when you tell us what you went through.”

“Sir,” he responded. “My master discovered I was masturbating, which is not allowed for slaves here.” He swallowed; the memory still unnerved him.

“So as a warning he had my foreskin ringed so that I could not move the skin back and forth. He also had attached a bell to it so if I did disobey him again, I would be found out. Then he would castrate me, as was right.”

“So you were a bad slave again?” the man asked eager for the story.

“Sir, I was young…”

“Tell the story, Nickel!” I ordered.

“Sir, I was not able to control my urges…”

“Wait!” I stopped him. “It all took place here in the cutting shed where we castrate our slaves.”

“Ah!” the Arab twisted his head to look around.

I had Nickel come over to the big cutting table made from the trunk of an oak tree. I made Nickel stand right up against it, and place his cock on the top.

“”As you can see,” I said to the Arab. “This table top is stained with the blood of many cocks that have been removed here. It has faded over the years, but here is where Nickel shot his load when my father cut his cock off.” I smiled, remembering. I summoned two assistants – young slaves – and they strapped Nickel to the table and attached his hands straight up to the overhead beam.

“Go on with your story, Slave,” I said. Seeing Nickel stretched out again made my cock hard.

“Sir, I did not learn my lesson through my master’s kindness. I found ways to sneak off and use my dick instead of working. Of course the bell would tinkle. One day a young girl who worked here – not a slave like me – was washing clothes by the stream and heard the bell. She came to see. I was there, Sir, hard and ready to shoot my load. She was standing with her skirt tied up and her round pink legs shining from the water and one of her young breasts was exposed…some of her pubic hair… I looked at her and she at my naked cock and we were carried away…!”

Tears were welling in his tired eyes now.

“Go on, go on!” the buyer urged, impatiently.

“We coupled…”

“Not with the ring on?”

The slave dropped his big head. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. “I could not remove it – I never thought it would hurt her, but it did and we were found out. So naturally I had to lose my cock.”

The buyer looked at me. I nodded.

“I was strung up by my ankles – spread wide – and flogged in front of everyone on the plantation, slaves and free workers alike. Naked in front of all of them. They were all happy to have a morning off from work and were laughing at me. The girl was there, although she was not so cruel as to laugh even though she had reported me. The belt was laid right across my balls and cock, ten times in a row then across my ass many more times. . I screamed for mercy but I had gone against the master’s law twice, even after he had been kind enough to just ring me…”

“Ah,” the buyer was agitated and I could see he wanted to have Nickel back on his thin cock. It was erect again.

“Even so, my master was a kind man, and he decided to spare me humiliation in some way and even allowed me to keep the pretense of having a cock.”

I took over the story.

“My father was not cruel. I had trained Nickel myself, and I was not strict enough with him. I treated him too much as a friend and not enough as my piece of property, which of course, is what he is.”

The Arab nodded in understanding.

“My Father brought Nickel and me to the gelding shed here. He himself had trained as a cutter before he was a planter, so he did the operation himself. Father disliked taking their balls at a young age as he wanted them to grow strong to work hard.”

I remembered it all like a dream as I told it.

“My father strapped young Nickel here to the flat wooden block and pulled back his foreskin. Nickel was bound so he could not move and his wrists tied tightly overhead, just like I have him now. He was gagged so we would not be bothered by his screams.

And screams there were. It was painful indeed. First the head of the cock was nailed directly to the block of wood so it would not move or twist under the knife and make the cut go crooked. Father took a very thin knife with a razor-sharp blade and with great skill cut the foreskin all around to separate it from the cock, just as you would pare the skin from an apple. He skinned it back, exposing the pink shaft, and surely Nickel paid enough just by that for his disobedience. But father was nowhere near finished. Was he, Nickel?”

The slave whispered, “He was not finished with me yet, Sir.”

“He skinned the whole thing way back to where Nickel’s pubic hair was just thickening – not like the black bush we see now. He was still developing into a man…

“Then my friend, Father pushed Nickel somewhat away to stretch out the cock –and would you believe it? – Nickel had a full erection!”

The buyer gulped and drank more tea. His mouth was very dry.

‘My Father was outraged. He yelled at Nickel for his insolence and actually punched him in the mouth, chipping two front teeth. This was why I had to remove them later to protect my own cock.

“Then he took a large cleaver that he himself had honed to razor-sharpness and without warning just brought it down and cut Nickel’s big cock in two. That set off an orgasm which was mingled with blood and the pink cream shot across the room and laid a wet track across the severed cock still nailed to the block!”

I ran my finger over the wood. “Right here, it was.” My finger found the nail hole.

“My father found compassion then as he remembered all men shoot a load when they are castrated. With great skill he quickly pinched off the remaining stub and cauterized the end. Then he sent a hollow steel rod deep inside the remaining shaft so Nickel would not close up.

“Father then pulled the loose foreskin back over the remains of his cock and using the cleaver chopped the excess off so that it still covered the embarrassing evidence of the castration and even provided a protection so the sensitive stub would not hurt so much over the years.” My eyes misted over remembering my Father’s kindness to a rogue slave.

The buyer breathed deep. “What a wonderful story…may I?”

“Of course,” I said. I was still in the mists of memory.

I cut off the ring and stripped back the slave’s foreskin and showed him what was left of the cock. It had rounded out over the years, and the skin grown back to seal it, although back on that day it was flat where the cleaver had cut. I rubbed it with my finger and Nickel tensed. It still was so sensitive, because it had been hidden under the skin and he had never been allowed to use it again. His only release came when I fucked him and his prostate was able to find relief under my cock and dribble out some gobs of thick oozing cream.

Nickel dropped his head down looking longingly at his stub. He was never allowed access to it unless I wanted to show it to people. The skin was bleeding where I’d cut away his ring.

“Naturally the castration made it possible for me to continue to use Nickel as a hole for my own pleasure even when we became adults. That magnificent meaty ass of his and his hot hole have provided me years of satisfaction. I have been faithful to my wife, and when she carried our children, I did not need to stray to the stalls of diseased prostitutes when my lust grew strong. Nickel has been there for me. His mouth and his hole.”

I smiled at the Arab who was rubbing and kneading Nickel’s ass. His thin cock was sticking out of his baggy pants. I nodded and he went behind my slave and stuck his dick right up into the hot hole that I had trained over the years to accommodate all kinds of cocks. But it still hurt him! That first dry thrust that shot right up his ass into his guts always made him catch his breath and whimper. Keeping his balls had still made him grow into a man, not a true eunuch. The Arab began to ride in and out of him. He stood taller behind the suspended slave and started a rhythm that would let him last.

“I would like…” he said with his eyes closed, and in a harsh whisper. “…I would like to see how your Father cut off this man’s cock.” Nickel looked apprehensive.

“I can do that for you,” I answered. Nickel looked around darting his eyes everywhere.

I clapped my hands and the slaves hurried fetch the leather case which held my Father’s gelding knives, and the other brought a tripod and brazier of hot coals. They placed them by the table and Nickel’s face took on the same look of fear it did when he was a boy.

The two slaves stepped back and waited respectfully to one side, looking at Nickel’s stub in fascination. Also with fear, as both of them had not yet been gelded, but both knew it could happen at any time. It could happen today if the lust for cutting consumed me. My Father disapproved of this lack of control in me but even now when the knives began to slice in clean and come up stained from claiming a man’s cock or balls I felt the turgid frenzy in my belly like a thirst that could not be slaked.

The Arab stopped, keeping his cock deep inside Nickel’s hole.

“This will increase your pleasure, my friend, so stay inside the hole,” I told him. He watched over Nickel’s shoulder. He had an excellent vantage point, as good as Nickel himself.

I pressed the stub with my finger and found it was hard. He had lost much over the years, but he still had a fair length of shaft. The Arab would enjoy his back door visit. I removed the little fillet knife that had long ago pared the foreskin from the shaft. I inserted the tip sideways to the top of the stub and pushed, cutting into the skin. Nickel whined in a high pitch. The Arab held tight and began to pump him, making the stub get harder and longer.

I filleted around slowly, careful not to cut into the shaft or go crooked around it. Father was more skilled and could cut around quickly and evenly, but I had to go slow or I might slice into the meat sideways. Blood oozed as I completed the slow circle and skinned it away from the headless shaft.

“Oh, Master, Sir, please spare me! I have nothing else but my balls! Please, master, please leave me something.”

I chuckled at his request and even the Arab had to laugh in the midst of his ecstasy.

I took the steel sharp nail and the hammer and with several taps, drove it straight down through to the wood, impaling him. It had a wide round head to prevent the shaft from slipping off. I drove it down squashing it close to the wood. Nickel began to grunt, trying not to scream. The Arab was almost crazy with lust. He could not stop fucking in and out, which was making the hole of the slave’s shaft leak clear fluid.

I then took the shining cleaver and raised it as Nickel’s eyes watched in disbelief. Then DOWN! -- I let it drop making a clean cut close up to the slave’s hairy pubis, And just as before he shot a strong thick rope of cream out and across the table where it landed and lay like a knotted sting of cotton, dyed pink.

I had little time. I took the hot cauterizing tool and placed it flat against the shortened stub and Nickel lost his breath, then yelled in agony, clenching his whole body and the Arab’s eyes flew open as he shot his own thick load way up into Nickel's guts. Again and again, he came pressing his cock to the hilt into the hot hole. Nickel stood pounding out loud, masculine sobs as his body was wracked with shock. The puff of smoke from the burn and the smell of singed pubic hair filled the room like aphrodisiac perfume. All we could hear was the Arab crying out in delight and Nickel crying out in despair. I inserted a tube into the newly burned stub and sent it deep inside to the bladder.

Then I had Nickel released and the Arab served with his hookah so he could regain his dignity.

I had Nickel placed in the wooden chair used for gelding the men. He at first just thought it was a place to sit. But then the slaves locked his neck to the upright behind him, brought down the clamps that held the thighs and ankles wide apart, anchored the wood bar across his belly and locked his wrists behind him. He was immobile. The gelding seat was very narrow. Made so that a wooden dildo could be sent up the man’s ass and locked there, and letting his balls dangle so the cutter could stretch the balls down to cut them off.

“Oh, no, Master! Please…Pleeease!” Nickel was crying uncontrollably.

I took the sharp curved knife and showed it to him. Then he knew I was not going to spare his balls, that he was now going to lose the things that had kept him a man, allowed him to grow into a muscular young male while still serving me as a hole.

I had the older boy send the wooden dowel up through the hole in the bench, up into Nickel’s spread asshole, and peg it in place. Did I see even that remaining little stub I’d just shortened get hard? Some whitish liquid oozed from the hollow tube stuck inside.

“Remember my request!” he Arab whispered. I snickered. Always for them! These Arabs, I thought.

I nodded.

I took the short curved blade with the sharp edge on the outside of the curve and with one hand stretched the balls down in their sac and grasped them, tightened them. I placed the sharp edge against the tight sac and gently glided the honed blade over the skin, opening a small slit right in the center between the nuts.

I let them drop then and reached one finger into the hole while Nickel babbled in pleading words begging me to stop. I dug around, trying to find the cord that was attached to the right ball. Nickel began a series of screaming noises, which excited the Arab back to hardness. Finally I managed to get my finger hooked around the cord and pulled it through the slit. Then working along it I got the ball trapped and tried to pull it through the hole. It was too small, so I had to pull harder, working to squeeze the grayish testicle until it popped out with a weird sound. I pulled it until it hung down and Nickel was breathless with pain.

The Arab then stuck a clumsy finger into the hole reaching around to claim his prize Since he had never done this he kept slipping and the ball was being tortured inside the sac. Finally he became angry and asked for the crusher. This was a pair of hollow half balls on scissors-like handles. It was used to crush the testicles in cases like this, where the guest was important but clumsy. I put Nickel’s stubborn testicle into the half ball and closed the handles. Then with a sudden clench I crushed the ball fast so that it popped and broke into a jelly-like mass, then the Arab pulled the mangled nut through the hole and let the good one dangle with ruined one. The Arab had a happy look of pride on his face.

Nickel was breathing loud deep sounds as if he could make the pain go away.

I took the good testicle first and the Arab took the other one and we wrapped the cords around our fingers and waited. We had decided to race to see who could snap his ball off first.

“On the count of three, please, Masters!” the younger slave said to us. Then he counted: “One – two—THREE!”

On that we both yanked hard on our cords each one trying to snap the ball off first. The Arab’s slipped because it had no place to hold, but mine was resisting and I yanked and yanked, trying to get it to snap. Nickel was screaming nonstop, begging us first to stop, then to hurry -- anything to end his agony.

Finally I realized it was not going to work. I had to take the knife and cut the cords off or we’d be here all night. I cauterized the cords, then seared the hole in the sac.

Nickel was slumped crying helplessly and I left him there while we ordered wash basins and had the slaves clean our hands. I was disappointed at the way it was handled, but could not insult the clumsy guest. I had planned to save Nickel’s balls as souvenirs of my first slave, the one I had bought and trained and used all on my own. I had never gelded him myself and I wanted it to be a special occasion. The Arab’s clumsiness had spoiled it for me. I felt empty.

I looked at the two young slaves the same age as Nickel had been when my Father cut his cock off. One was whispering, smirking, to the other one, who saw me and pretended not to listen. The bigger one was just filling out, his limbs showing the first thickening of maturity, growing muscular under the hard work we put him to. His young cock was still mostly bald, but was lengthening, shooting out and dropping in a curve over his big balls, the head of it elongated and heavy. It seemed to act as a weight to keep the thin shaft from sticking upwards. I stared at him and my look unnerved him. He lived in the awareness that I could take that thing off any time I wanted, and now I knew – I was going to. I had been cheated of Nickel, and this smirking boy needed a lesson.

The other one was still too young by my father’s standards to cut. Perhaps the tall one, with his beginnings of facial hair and his lower brown curls just thickening on his bare mound – perhaps he was too. But I would have them both. I swore it. He would pay for his smirking at Nickel’s agony. He would pay for the Arab’s clumsiness.

I composed myself and smiled at my Arab guest. He was offering me a pretty penny for Nickel. He had become enamored of the older slave. He did not think he would ever lose his erection again. I set my mind to business and profit. After all Nickel was still just a slave and this man was a buyer. But Nickel was my first slave and I had been cheated of my rights. I would regain them if I had to chop off every set of cocks and balls on my plantation.

“Let me show you the rest of the boys,” I said to the Arab, extending a cordiality I did not feel. Perhaps after we rest we can come back here.”

I narrowed my eyes and looked directly at the slave who had smirked at nickel.

“Clean up in here, put Nickel on his side on the mats so he can recover, and wait here till I return,” I told him.