Ayzintion City-The Teaching of a Lesson

This story forms yet another tale in the series that has come to be known at Ayzintion City. The series is written in such a way that it doesn’t really matter which story you read first, yet even so, they all form the tale and they are all written about the same, magical place that is found only in my mind. As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.

My name is Phillip Jesper, and I am fourteen years old. Barely fourteen at that. My eyes are still black where they punched me, beating my face to a pulp with my books from school. I carried them tied with a cord, and when they assaulted me they took my books and swung them as a weapon. I’ve never felt anything like it, and afterwards I could barely move. When they kicked me in the balls I will never forget their laugh. I don’t remember how many times they did that, but they kicked my sides and my stomach and my balls and eventually I passed out. Still, that was all several weeks ago, and most of the swelling is down now and the men of medicine have told my father that I am going to be fine after all. For a while they were not so sure. It still hurts to walk but I am feeling better every day. I hate the two that attacked me, and when I look at them I can feel the pain of it all over again.

I guess juvenile delinquents have been around for a lot longer than the city, and I guess they will always be around in some form or another. My father said that he had his own bullies to deal with, and so I guess it will always be that way. He also told me that sometimes you have to teach the lesson, to make the example so that the others will hesitate before doing their own mischief. I don’t know. These two are hoods, that’s for sure, but as I see them tied together, knowing what they have been brought here for, I am hesitant.

Why me? Why? I mean they have hurt others, worse than me even, but my father says the council chose me, and so I guess I will do what they want me to. Why they chose someone just fourteen I don’t know, but they did and I should feel honored my father has said. It’s funny, but honored is the last thing I feel. I guess now they have passed the choice to me, and it is not an easy one. Some here think I will change my mind, when the knife is in my hand and their balls are hanging loose and ready. Some in the crowd think I am just a kid and I’ll never take their balls. Some feel I shouldn’t. I have to admit I’m not sure. It seems such a power to hold over someone, and while I’ve never seen either of them naked, I am about to and my heart is pounding with the thought of it and what is supposed to follow.

I look around. The crowd has been gathering all morning, and more than a few shopkeepers have come out to see these two get their due and to see what I will do. I guess the two of them have been stealing and causing trouble for many years now, and even though they go to my school I never would have suspected they had harmed so many others. They certainly have a reputation throughout the city, and they have been troublemakers for as long as I have known them.

I also know they are two teenagers I have tried to avoid, desperate even to stay out of their way. After they picked on me at school and told me they were going to beat me up someday I ran home each day trying to get out of their way. Still, I never anticipated the ambush, and when I walked into it I tried running but I’m not that fast and it really wasn’t an option I had anymore.

Most of the school has turned out in hopes I will do it to them. There is something I suppose of an interest to seeing justice played out in the end, and there are more than a few in the crowd that know it could be them here just as well. I hope they take notice, and from the expressions in my classmates’ faces you can almost tell the ones that are afraid from the ones that are eager. I think there are a lot more that are eager than afraid. Marsha waves at me, and I blush. She is so special, and I like her more than words can say. My little prick twitches in my pants and I wave back, watching her tits bounce as she moves. My father squeezes my shoulder then, forcing me to move my thoughts. I look away and try not to think of her again.

I need to stay in control. I am more nervous than anything, but my dad’s hand on my shoulder is reassuring and even though many are staring in my direction and wondering if I can do it I keep my eyes open and try to look confident and strong. It’s hard to look at the two that beat me up though. They know I have the option to castrate them, and they are looking at me much differently now than a few weeks ago when they were my attackers. I can feel their fear, and it feels good and my confidence grows.

I force myself to stare back at them. Still, it’s intimidating to look at them. I want to look down...to look away but I don’t. They are big, bigger than me at least, and while that’s not saying much it still is the truth. My father says that will change, once I have taken their balls, and soon I will pass them both in stature and weight. They are in their third year of school, and have been out of control most of the year. Even the teachers have become afraid of them, and they yell and say what they want and come to class only when they feel like it. They are the leaders of a small gang at school, and they have a reputation for being ruthless and they love to pick on the freshman like me and make the rest of our lives miserable. I see that their followers are here and I guess they want to intimidate me and perhaps save their friends in the process. If I do it I wonder if they will be angry at me for it or afraid it might be them getting it next. I wonder.

I am not afraid of any of them. I guess I know my father is right, that sometimes someone needs to set the example, to make the point and to improve the lot for the rest. Still, taking their balls seems a strange way to do it and I can only hope that it will make the right impressions on the right people. I have been told they will be sold as slaves regardless if I cut them, and that will send a message even if they leave with their balls intact.

The noon sun is bright, and hot, and as I see it high overhead I realize that the time has come. The crowd senses it too, as do the two boys. Suddenly, I see four big men that I recognize, but can’t name, grab the youths and begin to drag them to the two tables that have been set in the yard for that purpose. They are struggling, and begging, and yet I think it is only feeding the crowd. The first lad is the one that hit me, swinging my books and smashing my face. I look at his feet and remember the kicks and the laughs that went with them. His name is David, and at sixteen he has that well-defined body that makes mine look like a little boys in comparison. Still, even so, it is I that will be holding the knife, and as I see him now I have no doubt I can do it when I am told I can.

David doesn’t want to be tied down. I realize that the two men that are dragging him are two of the storeowners in the city. One of them runs the General Store, and I see him often when I stop for sweets after we do the church on Sunday. He has been vandalized almost a dozen times in the last two years. I don’t know the other man, but I know he works in some store, as I have seen him with my father.

I look at my dad, and he answers my question before it is asked. “Franklin” he says. “He owns the Stables. Where the horses were painted last January.”

Ah...so that’s where I remember him. I remember the incident. Somebody painted the stable horses and odds are it was one of these two teenagers. David was bragging about it at school, but nobody paid him any attention and he changed his story when he was questioned. Now, as I watch, the two men drag David to the tables in spite of his struggles, and lay him face down across the end, so that his ass is facing the crowd. They tie his two wrists to the far end of the table. Once that is done, they unbutton his pants and pull them down and then off. His undergarment is tied up, holding his genitals, and they remove that with a swift pull and a jerk. Naked from the waist down, I see the two business owners pulling his legs apart, spreading them wide and then securing his ankles to the legs of the table, so that the boy is open and exposed, trussed across the heavy oak table with his bare ass perched in the air and his hole visible to everyone. His dick is semi-stiff, the way it is in most guys his age, and because of the height of the table it is laying across the table surface, resting there. Underneath his ass, hanging down for all the world to see, are the boy’s teenage balls he is so proud of. I can’t take my eyes off of them, knowing they are waiting; waiting for me to steal them from him if I want.

David has a dark ring of hair around his asshole, which seems to pucker open and closed with his struggles. I watch his white ass bob up and down, the dark hair of his sex visible on his legs and his thighs, powerful and strong, straining against the restraints that hold him fast to the table.

The other youth is the same age but he looks older. He goes by the name of Hans. He is of Slavic decent and I think he is from the Eastern Province. He has light brown hair and the wisp of a mustache that he has refused to shave. The rest of his face is smooth, as is the rest of his body, and the impression of a youth with power is not lost on anyone that sees him. His body is literally chiseled. His arms are powerful, and his legs are so strong that the two men that hold him are having trouble doing it.

I recognize the men as being from the inn where I went with my father, although I don’t know their names. In fact, I was in there just this last year, right after the fire, and they were talking about the kids that had caused it. It turns out Han’s was one of the perpetrators, and so now, as I watch, I can see that the inn owners are not unhappy to be dragging their charge to his table. As they tie him face down the boy struggles, and I can hear him gasp and cuss as his pants are lowered and then removed.

His balls are huge! They dangle like a bulls balls dangle....the entire scrotum stretched out and hanging, down like they do on a big bull, loose and full and powerful. He bucks his hips and his balls swing, literally, and everyone’s eyes can’t help but stare.

Hans is the one that caught me when I tried to run. He pushed me down, and held me there, and as David beat me to a pulp he just held my arms and laughed and laughed and laughed. He isn’t laughing now, and his snow white ass glistens in the noon sun, bright white, and oh-so-eager, almost begging to be punished and just waiting for someone to do it.

My heart is pounding now, even harder, and the crowd is anxious for something to happen. As I am thinking it might be my time, I see instead that the city butcher, Mr. Lithgow, has been chosen to get them ready for me first. As I watch, he has some butcher’s twine in his hand, and he goes up to Han’s and reaches underneath him, between his legs. I can see him looping the twine around the Slavic boy’s sac, again and again, tighter and tighter. As he is doing that Han’s ass is bobbing, up and down, and his head is turned around and he is yelling, begging the butcher to stop his task. It does no good. In doest take long either and I can see that the boy’s ballsac is tied up tight, the thin but powerful twine wrapped again and again around the neck of his scrotum. The boy obviously can feel it too, and from the way he is bouncing and jerking he doesn’t like it very much.

Mr. Lithgow is smiling, as he approaches the second teenager. David is wild, jerking the entire table with his struggles. His ass is bobbing up and down, up and down, and he too is looking back over his shoulder as the butcher begins to loop the twine. You can see the fear in his eyes....the knowledge this is real and is happening and he is powerless to stop it. As he bounces his hips high, its obvious his prick has elongated and is stretched out across the surface of the table, and from the desperation of his thrusting it almost gives the impression he is trying to fuck the table he is tied to.

Mr. Lithgow wraps his balls too with the string; trapping his nuts in their sack and making them look like ripe plums waiting to be taken. As he finishes his knots, he waves at the crowd, which responds with a thunderous applause.

As he moves back, into the crowd, two more men step out, and the applause intensifies. I recognize both of them immediately. They are two of the cities barbers, and one of them is the man who cuts my hair. I am figuring it out now....the shopkeepers and store owners these boys have hurt have been allowed to participate in their punishment, just as I will do shortly. If nothing else, it should make an impression on the other bullies in my school and anyone else who is thinking of doing mischief within the borders of the city.

The barbers are each holding a leather strap, the kind they use to sharpen their razor before they do their shaves. The straps are well worn, and thick, and wide. What strikes my attention though isn’t the straps at all. It’s the power of the men, their huge muscles and big chests ripped and strong, and as I see the straps and the naked ass’s bobbing up and down waiting for them a chill goes up my spine. I had heard they had stolen coins from the barbershop, and that explains why the barbers are here. But GOD...those straps....they look so thick. On one end is a wooden handle...and as I watch they double the straps over so that they are folded in half. The result is a huge thick piece of leather, still more than two feet long. The two barbers are standing besides the two tied bullies, and then as we watch they are measuring the distance and resting the straps on the naked bottoms that are pearched up eager and waiting.

The crowd roars. Then, in that instant, the two men are swinging their arms and then there is a double “SLAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP SLAAAPPPPPPPPPP” that is so loud and powerful that it reverberates through the entire crowd. When the leather straps hit the flesh of the two bottoms that are jutting up and eager for it, I can see that the impact is so great that both tables bounce! I can’t believe the force they were hit with, and it is obvious that the straps are literally burning their way into the boys’ very souls. Almost instantly, as the straps make their contact, there is a double scream that goes up and after that the boys seems to be struggling and yelling like there is no tomorrow.

The barbers just go to town after that. The leather straps are swinging, again and again, slapping into the two delinquent bottoms which are bouncing up and down, wild and desperate; the youths struggling and pulling against their restraints as they fight to somehow, someway avoid the blows that are raining down on them without abandon.

They are suddenly screaming “I’m sorry”....”PLEASE STOP! PLEAASE!..... OH GOD.... I’m SORRRYYYYYYYYY”.

The crowd is actually laughing at their misery. They are begging for mercy from the merciless barbers, who just seemed to strap their asses without letup. It is as if the barbers are taking back their revenge on the smooth rounded bottoms of the wayward teens, pounding it out with each blow. I don’t know the number of times the straps are swung, but finally they are done and where two haughty “tough-guys” had been only a few minutes before now two sniveling and very sorry teenagers remain.

The crowd is wild with excitement and the applause is almost a roar now....everyone so eager and excited about the two boys as they are being taught their lesson. I look to my schoolmates, and I can see some of the other bullies are cringing, their faces full of fear as they realize what could happen to them.

God, their asses are cherry red now! I mean, CHERRY RED! I am only a few feet away, and in only a few minutes as I watch the two boys bottoms have been turned into flaming mounds of flesh. Their asses are so bright they looked sunburned, and as they bob them up and down and fight their restraints, I realized that everyone’s attention is turning to me. After watching the strapping I feel an erection in my pants...and all I can do is hope that it isn’t noticed. It is time, and I swallow, and then I start to make my walk up as my father pushes me towards my task.

At the head of the tables, where the two teens arms are tied, is the chief warden from the slave yards. He is standing there, checking the restraints, and then as I approach the tables I can see him glance down, between my legs at my boner that is tenting my pants. He smiles at me and my face flushes crimson with humiliation. He then changes his expression to one of business, and then as I watch he slips a rag into the mouths of the two boys waiting with their legs spread and tied. Then he gives me a few words of encouragement.

“Hi Phillip. It’s up to you now. You can let them go or you can teach the lesson. If you do it, just take your time, and go slow. You don’t want to screw it up, so just take your time. They will feel it more anyway, and after what they did to you they deserve to. You don’t want to make it too quick and cut them in the wrong place. Here, here’s the knife. It’s your decision.”

The warden just sits the knife down right on top of Han’s ass. As he sits the knife there the teenager bucks his hips...and the knife goes up and down, riding in the small of his back and I could not take my eyes off of it if I wanted to. Its almost like the teenager is holding his own knife for me to use for his unmanning. The handle is ivory, and the blade is thick and serious, with a slight curve. It appears razor sharp. The sun glints off the steel, and the serrated edge looks mean and ready.

I can hear the crowd, so anxious to see it be done, and I can’t help it and just reach out and take the knife and heft it clear of the boy’s ass. He twists around, and then is staring back at me, the rag in his throat and his eyes wide with fear as he takes in the knife in my hand. I can see the tears from his strapping still running down his face. His entire buttocks is flame red, brighter red than any red I’ve seen before, and I can literally feel the heat from where the leather strap has burned his hide. He doesn’t look so powerful anymore, and the expression on his face now is a lot different than it was when he was laughing as he held my arms.

I’m not sure what to do. It seems such a powerful moment, and yet if not me, then who? I take the knife, and reach down, between his legs. His balls are huge, and hanging down limp, swinging as he struggles. I heft them in my left hand, feeling their weight and mentally comparing them to my own puny testicles that are thankfully hidden in my pants. As I hold them, I can feel my erection growing stiffer and that surprises me. I try to ignore it, and then I pull down on his balls to stretch out the sac. I can hardly hold them the sac is so big. He starts shaking against the ropes when I touch his balls, and as I hold him I can feel his entire body jerking against the restraints, struggling with a desperation that is so intense it cannot really be described. I take the knife then, with its serrated edge, and lay it up against the twine that the butcher has tied.

The warden speaks up then: “Not that high Phillip. Down just a little bit...about an inch. We don’t want a lot of blood remember.”

I lower the placement of the knife, and as I do the warden nods his head and I know I have it right. I freeze for a second, and the crowd starts yelling for me to make the cut.

Han’s is wild then....knowing the moment is at hand. I can tell the big male isn’t too thrilled to have a freshman holding his sac, much less about to take it, holding the knife against his balls. His eyes are desperate, fearful, and open wide with a look of disbelief that this is happening.

I am scared and I swallow. I have another thought, and hesitate, wondering if it is the right thing to do. Perhaps his red ass is punishment enough. I look sideways, to where my father is, and he mouths “you can do it” and after that I am OK. He is right. I need to teach the lesson, and the time is now. Han’s looks at me, into my eyes, and it’s almost as if he can see into my soul and discover my thoughts. I sense his fear then, as he figures it out, and then he is shaking his head from side to side. I have made my decision and he knows it. As I stare back at him I start to move my hand, working the knife back and forth and then, as his eyes open wider as his disbelief becomes reality, I increase the speed of my slicing and push the knife into his sac with a vengeance.

Han’s grunts into his gag and bucks his hips hard then....pushing himself forward, almost into the table. I can hear him grunting then....as I move the steel through his balls, and while I am doing it he suddenly ejaculates onto the table. I know he is doing it, as his dick is at an angle and the ropes of semen are pumping out like lines of goo across the tabletop. I can feel him shudder and I watch his asshole slam open and closed. I hesitate then so that he can complete his orgasm. I don’t know why I do that, but it just seems the right thing to do. Already half-castrated, he bucks his hips as he cums, fucking the table as if it was his last desperate manly act. I let him, and then, finally, after he has emptied his balls I take them. With two more sweeps of the knife they come free and suddenly they are in my left hand, the entire scrotal sac still quivering with a life of its own. I turn to the crowd, and hold it up, high over my head, and the crowd roars and then the applause suddenly just explodes.

Han’s collapses as his balls come free, and the essence of his struggles dies like the wind dies from a sail. He just lies against the table after that, his red eunuch ass no longer bobbing up and down, and his belly laying flat and smeared in his spent semen. His body is limp, and all but lifeless.

I let my gaze move to the other table, and as I do David is staring at me with a fear and a desperation that is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He is looking at me, and his friend’s big balls in my small hand, and as he stares at them I cannot help but smile. I almost laugh, but stop myself, and then, on a whim, I drop the balls I am holding onto the small of his back, above his ass, so that he can feel them there, like a hot piece of meat fresh from the slaughter. He goes ballistic as I do that, humping the table and screaming into his gag as he feels his friend’s warm severed balls resting on top of his ass.

His struggles are wild then! His hips come off the table so far that his prick drops down, off the edge of the table and points down, at the dirt beneath his legs. His tied ballsac is much smaller than his friends, but its still more impressive than my own small scrotum, and I blush red with that thought. David’s prick is stiff and jutting, even as it points down, pushed against the edge of the table and obviously uncomfortable as it jabs into the wood with his struggles.

I don’t care. This is the guy that pummeled my face, beating me to a pulp and as I remember I feel the anger boil up inside of me. I take the knife, and reach up, under his legs. I grab his balls then, and as I pull them down I start squeezing them just to make sure he knows I have them. They are bulging in his sac....the string tied so tight they have turned a dark red, and as I grab them and squeeze I can tell they have become super sensitive. This time there is no doubt I will take them. He screams again into his gag, and then he renews his struggles and grunts out his pleading. I am happy; revenge sometimes feels so right.

With that thought, I push the blade into his sack, and begin to saw the steel through his man-meat. As he feels it his eyes grow even wider, and he thrust and jerks and twists. I jerk down on his half castrated sack with my left hand, and he grunts loudly into the rag......and then just like his friend suddenly his last and final load of semen is jetting out of his body and into the dirt. It is spurting with an intensity, coming out of his stiff prick with a tremendous velocity unlike anything I have ever seen. It literally splashes into the dirt, and as it does so he continues to grunt into his gag. I love the feeling of power, and unlike I did for his friend, I don’t stop but instead keep sawing the knife, working it through his balls even as he ejaculates. I don’t want him to have any enjoyment from his last orgasm if I can prevent it. He bucks his hips continuously, and desperately, and I find that by holding the knife sideways and just pushing on it I can actually let his own thrusting make the cut for me. He doesn’t know it, but he is castrating himself with is bucking and I let him do it.

The knife cuts deep into his sac like a hot blade goes through butter, so deep and so fast in fact that it intensifies his pain, and in turn he is jerking and grunting and thrusting like a wildman as he feels the steel penetrate into his very soul. His last ejaculation seems to go on and on...the sperm flying out of his dick again and again and again. He shoots a wad so big it actually forms a small puddle of mud beneath his legs. Still, it doesn’t last forever. Finally, it is over, and I pull the knife and as I do his balls come free. From his prick, a long, single line of semen drools from the big purple head of his teenage dick, the last of his semen and the last of his manhood now wasted in the dirt beneath his legs.

While all this is happening I can feel my own orgasm so close I know if I touch my prick it will happen. I’m as hard as I’ve ever been, jutting out and into my pants. The tip of my own thin dick is oozing, and there is a small telltale spot to show for it. Its an intense feeling, and I know that tonight when the crowds have gone and I can be alone I will jerk my meat and savor the memory.

I look back to the boy I’ve just castrated. Like his friend, David collapsed completely with the removal of his balls. He is laying on the table, crying, his dick still drooling out the last of his cum. I smile from ear to ear and almost cream my pants.

I am proud of what I have done to them. The two little delinquents spree of vandalism is over, and instead they now will serve as shining examples of what can happen to those who push the limits for too long and too far. I pat David’s rear and then move back over and do the same to Hans. Then, on a whim, I set David’s balls on top of the ass of his friend, right in the small of his back. The crowd is screaming then, cheering really, the balls of each of the pair resting on the ass of the other. It is a fitting tribute, and as the crowd cheers and claps, I wave, and then, what-the-heck, I take a bow and as I do I catch my father’s smile.

[Authors note: © Copyright May, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. I was not going to revisit the city, but this story idea just sort of came to me. At the risk of overdoing the Ayzintion City theme here is another in the series. Please, let me know what you think. Thanks.]