Father Returns to Cutting

Before he had made a fortune in this area, he abruptly had to change his career. His father had suffered an injury which disabled him and he wasn’t able to work his small farm any more. He had a few slaves but it was never a large enterprise as grandfather was a philosopher who only wanted enough money to let him pursue mediation, and seek the meaning of life.

Being a dutiful son, he immediately returned to his family home and took up the duties of the farm. Father realized soon that there were many acres that belonged to him extending far into the fertile valley. He decided to expand and used his savings to buy gangs of able slaves to plant more and more acres. It was into this wealthy family that I was born, the only son of my Father.

Still Father had an artistic side nurtured at the gelding tables and farming was not satisfying to him despite the money he made. He could easily have gelded the males he owned but as a businessman he felt that cutting off the source of their masculine strength would be counterproductive. His business manager suggested he could entertain himself by just removing the penises, since all the men here were ringed anyway to prevent them wasting their strength on masturbation instead of work.

He did decide that this kind of castration as a hobby might keep him happy and, as I was his only son, he wanted to teach me the artistic talent that had made him famous as a cutter. So he had a cutting shed constructed and refurbished his blades. He chose some younger slaves as assistants to subdue the men marked for cutting. Then he chose some slaves of various ages and had them brought into the cutting shed.

I still remember the excitement of anticipation in the smiling face of my father as he selected the men who were going to lose their manhood. This excitement grew as he made sure the cutting shed was in order, and the assistants well instructed in their duties. Then the five males tagged for de-cocking were brought in to stand in the waiting stall, their hands bound behind them, watching in puzzlement as the preparations were made. They did not know if they were to be punished for some unknown crime, or had not worked hard enough, or were going to be put through some discipline. This practice was regularly employed to keep them efficient in the fields and I enjoyed it tremendously when they were whipped.

There was the great oak table cut from a wide tree trunk and placed solidly in one area under a skylight. A strong overhead beam set with a iron rings stood overhead so a slave’s hands could be fastened above, so he could not move during the cutting. A thick iron band was designed to wrap around each thigh and hold him against the table as he stood with his cock laid out on the wood top where Father would cut it off. It was exciting just to see the apparatus and I noticed (respectfully) that Father was sporting a large erection under his black baggy cutter’s pants. He wore a sleeveless white cotton shirt, snug around his large chest and the wide red leather belt of the cutter’s guild.

I was proud of him that day and caught up in his happiness and excitement. I was also proud that he had chosen to begin training me in this most ingenious skill and I swore to make him proud of me.

I looked at the row of five men. The first was a boy not much older than I was. He was certainly scared, standing naked and bound. He had a long thin cock that shot out and arced over his balls like a waterfall. His balls were big. Actually too big to be esthetic and I wished Father had chosen to remove them instead. The cock was large but in proportion to the boy’s eventual musculature – he was tall and wiry, but the balls were like inflated bags. I went over and felt them. They were all balls, not swelling or excess water. I frowned and he began to tremble. The sweat beaded on his lip where his beard was beginning and I felt the downy fuzz that was starting on his pubis.

There was another slave about his age, shorter, thicker and to my mind somewhat overfed, although it could be baby fat. Then a big 18-year-old red head that I liked and was often kind to. His cock was thick long and white and had large blue veins. He had been circumcised already, and his red knob hung at sort of an angle like someone had screwed it on slightly crooked. I pinched it gently and twisted it around It got hard and I slapped his nuts. They hung tight in a reddish sac and he bucked and apologized. I made a mental note to ask father not to remove the whole cock but maybe just the head.

Father called me over and then ordered the red headed boy to come to the table. I felt somewhat bad that he had to go first, but I remembered what I meant to ask Father.

I explained what good slave this boy was and asked Father not to remove the whole long cock but just take off the end of it. The redhead was brought over and bound into position and immediately began to panic. An assistant slave, a tall youngster with a kind of smirk that made me feel he did not take this seriously, pushed a wooden ball in between the redhead’s teeth and wrapped a gag to hold it in. The youngster stood with his arms stretched straight up, tied to the beam and his body held helpless to the table. Father took the young cock between his fingers and appraised it. I pointed out how big the head was and its odd crooked position on the end of the long shaft. He nodded, and using a wire probe stuck the cock several times to test its resiliency and toughness.

Then he stretched the long, hard thing flat out on the table and told an assistant to hold it in place. The red head was blubbering and trying to shout, but he could not be understood. We already knew he did not want to lose his cock, and I was annoyed that I had put forth the effort to save most of it for him and he was still begging for more.

Father did not pay attention to him. He was concentrating on the professional aspects of the cutting. He checked the cauterizing tool to see if it were evenly heated. Made sure the penis tube to be inserted was clear of dirt so the lad could piss later after it was inserted deep into his cock.

Father took some needle sharp steel pins then and stuck them cleanly through the shaft of the slave, impaling the cock to the table. Then he shoved the hollow piss tube into the cock head and slid it carefully along the urethra, sending it deeper and deeper down the channel feeling it along the way with his fingers. The red head probably would be screaming if he were not gagged. His head was thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. But he could not move so Father was not disturbed. He then got a short thick rod and used it to push the hollow tube far into the hole, past the head of the cock making sure the whole tube was unobstructed. He allowed it to slide back out until a few inches stuck out of the piss hole. Then he took a thin length of binding fiber and wrapped it around the dick about an inch away from the head and tied it tight till it was cinched against the metal rod inside.

Now Father breathed in satisfaction. It had been years since he had done this. He took a small pointed knife with an extremely thin sharp blade and with the other hand held the head of the slave’s cock in his thumb and finger. He bent it back and inserted the blade sideways directly under the ridge where the flare of the head met the shaft of the cock. He slid it right in and the slave’s muffled grunts got louder and the cloth was getting wet around his mouth. Then expertly, Father filleted around this ridge separating the head from the shaft all around the cock. It was perfect. No slippage, no stray cut. The head stood still attached but separated. Father then twisted the whole thing around one way then the other as the slave grunted loud protests from deep in his long chest. When he was able to gauge where to make the separating cut, he inserted his knife and with a twisting motion sliced away the cock head.

It was then that the slave lost control and his cock shot an enormous string of cream right out through that tube into the air. Then gobs of the white stuff continued to follow as the intensity of the painful cut throbbed inside the slave’s cock. Father watched the show as if it were a fireworks and I also stood in awe at the amount of cream the boy was spurting out. It continued for about 8 more spasms and the boy then hung from his wrists, crying and shaking his head. I felt my own cock beginning to make a surge and tried to hold back, but when I clenched my buttocks it had the reverse effect and I felt the hot creamy load let loose inside my pants soak through. I hoped father did not see but then I saw that his own black pants were holding a large bulge. Then I knew why cutters wore these baggy pants dyed deep black. Even a large wet spot would not be obvious. I wondered if father had shot a load himself.

When the salve had calmed down, Father pulled out the sticky hollow tube, bringing the severed head away from its staff, and held the tube with the knob stuck to it so I could see, then slid it off onto a small dish. He placed the cauterizing tool a right over the cut end, just as the blood was beginning to ooze and held it until the wound was sealed. The end had followed the shape of the ridge of the cock head and was at an angle showing where the head had sat. I had thought to see a flat end but Father had cut it naturally and the shaft had a pointed tip, and this was where Father held the red hot metal. The slave shot his head up and tried to scream through his gag, shaking his wet hair back and forth , but it stayed where it was until father decided it should be removed. Then he inserted the tube right back into the shaft and sent it all the way in quickly, leaving about an inch sticking out. Then he clamped it all so it would not slip out. It would stay that way for a day or so till Father saw that the wound would heal.

I could not understand why the slave was crying so much over his loss. We had left him enough to sire a child if father decided to allow it, and the rest of the time he had less of a cock so he would be less inclined to want to masturbate. So he could concentrate on doing his work. I was still annoyed that I had extended myself for him and he was still carrying on. Father said you should be careful not to indulge a slave’s wishes or he’ll always want more, and I guess Father knew best in this matter. I resolved never to be so soft hearted again.