Shirtless teens chopped off the golden stalks of grain with sickles held close to the ground, while younger boys raked the stalks together and still others bound them into sheaves. The sheaves were then gathered and stacked upright into shocks. The boy who supervised all this activity particularly captured 14-year-old Derek’s attention. He was the tallest and probably the oldest of the boys. His hair was dark brown and like the others his upper body was deeply tanned from exposure to the elements. He had the exceedingly fit build of a young man accustomed to farm labor from an early age.

Although the work must have been hard and tedious in the hot sun, the teen supervisor’s ready laugh and easygoing nature made it seem like a game. From his perch Derek could see that the younger boys adored him. He tolerated having his back jumped on when he leaned down to take over for one of the choppers who needed a break. He would pause to gather up two other boys in his massive forearms and spin them around. Then they would all get back to work.

Derek wished he was one of the young boys swept up in the arms of the strong, handsome teen.

In four days, the two dozen boys had turned the field into a mini-forest of wheat shocks. The boys played hide and seek among them in the twilight. After a couple of more days had passed, the boys and other workmen loaded the sheaves onto horse-drawn wagons and by evening the field was cleared.

The following afternoon, the boys took up a new activity. With a large roll of twine and buckets of lime, they marked out a rectangle on the field, and subdivided it in half. They drew a circle at the center line. Then they dragged in goal boxes constructed of two-by-fours and netting. The wheat field had become a soccer field.

The boys played on it the next day. Derek decided he would need to get closer to the action. He dragged a chaise lounge toward the edge of the lawn that abutted the field, but far enough away so as not to seem too obvious. With a book on his lap he slipped lemonade in the late afternoon sun. He wore sunglasses so the boys couldn’t tell that he was ogling them. The boys wore athletic shorts, one team white, the other light blue, but they were all shirtless and barefoot. Derek marveled that they could stand to run across the wheat stubble with their bare feet, much less kick a soccer ball without shoes on.

Derek didn’t care about sports, but the boys’ shorts were tight and stretchy. He loved watching their crotch bulges and asses as the boys kicked and ran during the game.

By happenstance, a deflected kick sent the soccer ball sailing off the field and onto the lawn. It bounced and rolled up next to Derek. He stopped it and scooped it up. The boys yelled at him to throw it back. He ignored them, spinning the ball in his lap. The boys convened as a group. The tall boy with dark hair was sent to retrieve the ball. Derek watched the big bulge in the boy’s white shorts shift from side to side as he approached. His smooth chest glistened with sweat.

He flashed a friendly smile.

“Hey buddy, can you toss me the ball?”

Derek pushed up his sunglasses. His eyes met the emerald green eyes of his secret idol. “And what is your name?”

“I am called Anthony.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tony. You will address me properly as sir.”

“OK,” the boy said pleasantly, “whatever you want. Now, can you give me the ball?”

“Give me the ball what. . .?”

“Give me the ball, uh, please.”

“And. . .?”

“Would you please give me the ball. . .sir?”

“Very good.”

Derek pondered the request for a few moments. “No, I think not. I will keep the ball for now, as a reminder for you not to trespass on the lawn without permission.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? C’mon, be a sport. We’re in the middle of a game.”

Afraid the older boy might lunge at him and wrest the ball from his arms, Derek gripped it tightly.

“Don’t make me call the guards. I will send for you later and then you may have your ball. Now, go. I’m sure the overseer can find something to keep you busy, if you are bored.”

The dejected boy sauntered off the lawn toward his companions, shaking his head. When he reached them, a chorus of boos and catcalls arose from the group. Several raised their middle fingers toward Derek.

Derek smiled as the wicked plan unfolded in his devious brain. His father would never allow a field slave into the great house. But he was master now, at least until next Thursday, when his father was scheduled to return from his business dealings. After the group of boys had shuffled out of sight, he got up, set the soccer ball on the lawn and gave it a kick. It spun erratically sideways and landed somewhere under the yew hedge.

* * *

Clad in nothing but boxer briefs under his silk dressing gown, Derek alternately rearranged the silverware on the table and chewed his fingernails. He finally stopped when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

“Enter.”

“Master,” said the butler in his high-pitched voice, “there is a field slave at the front door. He insists that you sent for him.”

“Thank you, Smathers, you may show him in.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Derek scooted to the armchair next to the fireplace. He adjusted his robe and picked up a magazine. He appeared to be reading when the servant returned with his guest.

“You may leave us, Smathers.”

The dark-haired teen hunk Derek lusted over for the past week and had met a few hours earlier stood uneasily at the open doorway. He was barefoot, as before, but now he wore blue jeans instead of shorts, and a dirty white t-shirt clung tightly to his upper body. He surveyed the opulence of the room with his mouth agape, a fish out of water. As if dazzled by spotlights, his large green eyes blinked. Presently they fixated on the table at the center of the room. The tabletop was obscured by many large platters with silver-plated covers. They were the apparent source of the delicious smells that filled the large space. The young man drew his tongue over his full lips, salivating.

Derek rose to greet his quarry.

“Hey, Tony. Come on in.”

“It’s Anthony, ah, sir. But I guess Tony is all right. I just came for the ball, like you promised. If I don’t get back to the bunkhouse right quick I’ll probably miss out on supper.”

“No you won’t. I was about to dine myself, and I would like for you to join me.” The slave hesitated. “Come on, don’t just stand there.” Derek grasped the older boy’s right forearm with both hands to urge him into his bedroom. When he complied, Derek closed the door behind them and locked it.

The slave’s eyes grew wide as the young master uncovered platter after platter of ham, pork chops, turkey, roast beef, mashed potatoes, assorted vegetables, and fresh fruit. “I thought you might like this better than that high-protein slop at the bunkhouse.”

The slave’s tongue lolled out of his mouth like a dog’s, but obediently, he waited for direction.

Derek drew close to him and sniffed. “Ugh!” he exclaimed. “You reek! I’m sorry, but I can’t eat with you smelling like that.”

The slave gazed longingly at the feast. “Well, I could go out and hose off,” he said quickly. “Or maybe you could just give me some of that food to take back with me. There’s plenty here, so the other boys could get a taste, too.”

“No way, I asked for you on purpose to be my guest. And you don’t have to go outside when you can clean up right here.”

The slave looked around the room, puzzled.

“I don’t see any hose, sir.”

Derek laughed. He led the older boy to his bathroom and slid open the shower stall door.

“There isn’t a hose, but the water comes out from up here, see?” He pulled the knob and adjusted the temperature while the slave quickly shed his clothes.

On turning around, Derek gasped when he saw that the bathroom did indeed have a hose—it was hanging between the older boy’s legs. Now it was his turn to salivate. He could hardly pull his eyes away long enough to point out the soap and shampoo to his guest when he entered the stall. The warm spray poured sensuously off the slave’s smooth chest and haunches while he lathered up.

Derek slowly closed the shower stall door and stared at the shapely silhouette through the opaque glass. He was glad he decided to wear boxer briefs, or his boner would be poking out of his robe. He roused himself to gather up the slave’s jeans and shirt. There was no underwear. He carried the clothes to his bedroom. He pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he shoved them under the bed, out of sight.

Derek was ready with a towel for the freshly-scrubbed slave when he stepped out of the stall.

He was mesmerized by the young man’s long, flaccid, uncircumcised cock that swung back and forth like a pendulum over his low-hanging balls while he rubbed the towel across his back and rear.

“Man, that felt great. I never washed up with hot water before.”

When the slave had finished drying off his body and his head of thick, dark hair, Derek approached him with a hairbrush. “Let’s do something about that rat’s nest.”

The slave stood patiently while his master untangled his medium-length loose curls.

Instead of watching himself in the gilded mirror, the slave glanced around the marble-floored room.

“Where are my clothes?”

“They stunk as bad as you did, so I asked the servants to wash them for you while you’re here. But we don’t have to wait for that.” With a last flourish, he pulled a curl over the slave’s forehead and appraised his handiwork.

“Perfect.” He took the liberty of playfully swatting the boy’s tight, round ass with the back of the hairbrush. “OK, let’s eat!”

The naked slave tore into the food like he hadn’t eaten in a month. He ripped off a turkey drumstick and gnawed away happily. He was so preoccupied with stuffing his face he hardly seemed to notice his young master, who had positioned himself to get a clear view of the slave’s crotch, at which he stared hungrily, especially the large, juicy testicles, which dangled freely over the edge of the chair.

Derek’s stomach churned. He forced down a few grapes with effort, while his companion grabbed samples from one platter after another.

Finally, the slave paused to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. He took a swallow from the second glass of wine the master had poured for him, and belched.

“Why are you being so good to me, sir?”

“Well, Tony, you don’t know what it’s like here in the great house. You’ve got other guys around you all day long. I don’t have anybody to hang out with. It gets lonely.”

“But you got all those house servants around you all the time.”

“Oh, they’re just like a bunch of silly girls.”

Tony drained his wineglass. “I like girls.” He looked around the table for something he hadn’t yet tried. He reached for a slice of roast beef and picked it up with his fingers. “Man, a guy like you must get so much pussy. Wait—are you even old enough to shoot yet?”

Derek felt his face grow warm.

"I’m 14, almost 15.”

“Oh, I thought you were like 11 or 12.”

“I get all the pussy I want.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

Derek did not like the turn this conversation was taking. He poured another glass of wine for his guest.

“And how old are you?”

The slave stopped chewing and paused for a moment to think. “I don’t know, like 18, I guess. Least that’s what they tell me.”

“Have you been coupled with a wench yet?”

“The overseer says I’ll get my first chance next month, if I don’t fuck up.”

“So you’re still a virgin, then.”

Tony laughed so heartily he ended up in a coughing fit. He gulped down some more wine. “I’ve been getting laid since I was like, 10, little dude.”

“Oh, I thought the females were off limits until you were authorized to breed.”

The wine had loosened the slave’s tongue, and his words were beginning to slur. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, but you gotta promise not to tell that asshole Dumb-bell, OK?”

Derek nodded. “Sure. Of course I won’t.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, you know what I mean? If a girl wants you, you can always find a way to make it happen.”

Derek made a mental note to instruct Overseer Dunbar to place the field slaves under tighter surveillance.

“When they’re all like throwing themselves at you and begging you for it, I’m not gonna turn them away, you know what I mean?”

The slave leaned back on his chair and rubbed his eyes. He yawned widely. “Man, I am so-o-o buzzed.” He stood up. Swaying unsteadily, he braced his large hands against the table. He shook his head as if to clear out the cobwebs, looked down, and laughed. “Hey, I’m not wearing any clothes! Where are my fucking clothes?”

“I’m sure they’ll be ready soon,” said Derek. “Why don’t you just rest on the bed for a while?” He rushed to Tony’s side. “Here, let me help you.” He pulled the boy’s arm up around his shoulder.

“Okey-dokey.”

The slave stumbled, but Derek managed to prop him up long enough to dump him onto the bed.

“You’re so good to me, master,” the slave mumbled. Within 30 seconds, he was out.

“Tony.” Derek shook the boy’s shoulder. “Tony.”

Steady snoring was the only response.

Derek sighed with relief. He wasn’t sure that he’d ground up enough sleeping pills into the wine. That last glassful did the trick.

His new favorite masturbation fantasy object lay naked and helpless on his bed.

Derek picked a linen napkin off the table and after wetting it in the bathroom sink, he returned to his sleeping prey. He got onto the bed and wiped the food smears from around the slave’s luscious mouth. Then he tossed the napkin onto the floor, along with his robe and briefs. He was so horny he could practically pop.

The slave lay on his side. Derek lay down next to him. Cautiously, at first, he reached around to place his hand on the boy’s back and gently brushed it downward until he cupped a buttock. He squeezed softly and then harder. He nuzzled in close to his face. He licked the boy’s lips and moved in for a kiss. Seeing no reaction from his tentative overtures, Derek grew bolder. He stuck his middle finger in his mouth and then moved it back to the slave’s ass. He probed the crack for the entrance. When he located it, he held his breath while he pushed in slowly, drilling deeper and deeper. The boy slept on. Derek finger-fucked him while kissing and licking his face.

He withdrew his finger and held it to nose, savoring the aroma of Tony’s warm hole.

Now horniness prevailed over caution.

He pulled the inert teen to the center of the bed and rolled him onto his back. He spread the slave’s legs as far as they would go and knelt between them. Immediately he seized on Tony’s cock. It was easily the biggest he had ever seen. He pushed up next to him to size it up against his own. Completely soft it was nearly as long, and definitely thicker, than Derek’s was with a raging hard on. He loved the soft squishiness of it in his hand. He wondered if it would be possible to get it hard while Tony slept. He pulled on it and waggled it back and forth. He repositioned himself to take it into his mouth. Peeling back the foreskin, he licked the big head and tongued the piss slit. Then he opened wide and swallowed Tony’s meat, burying his nose in the curly dark pubes. Tony’s cock tasted so warm and good. He sucked it and slathered his tongue all around, bobbing up and down. It seemed like it was starting to plump up. Tony remained oblivious.

Now Derek was ready to get to the best part—Tony’s big balls. He took them in his hand and rolled and fondled them in their loose sack. Other than his own, they were the first pair he had ever touched. Balls had fascinated him since he was 9, when he had coerced a young house servant into sex play and discovered he didn’t have any. There was a scar below his little wiener where his ball sack should have been. It was then that Derek learned all of the male household slaves were eunuchs and that most of them had their balls cut off when they were boys. By contrast, all of the field slaves had balls. That was what made them strong and masculine. The idea that you could cut off a slave’s balls to tame him and take away his manhood gave Derek a sexual thrill. What a feeling of power that must be!

Whippings were common enough on the Mandeville estate. Derek enjoyed watching slaves get stripped to the waist, tied down and lashed. He knew they deserved it and he liked to hear them howl. But unfortunately, it had been years since there was a castration, and he never had a chance to see one done. The latest additions to the household staff were bought at auction already gelded.

Playing with Tony’s balls, he had an idea. He got off the bed and picked up his dressing gown, stripping out the red silk sash. He returned to the bed and slipped the sash under Tony’s ball sack. Then he tied it together and slowly pulled the ends tighter, so that Tony’s big balls were forced together at the bottom of his sack. The skin beneath the hair of the sack was taut and shiny. He pulled the knot even tighter. Tony suddenly stopped snoring and let out a slight whimper, but after a few moments he started snoring again. Hearing Tony groan was the biggest turn-on yet. He straddled the slave on his knees and rubbed his cock against his smooth chest. Then he settled back to rest his ass on Tony’s stomach. He started jacking his cock.

Tony’s face was so handsome. He planned to squirt his load all over it. But first he wanted to hear him moan some more. He reached behind himself to grab the sash so he could pull on Tony’s balls. He gave the sash a sharp tug. Tony grunted. Derek jacked himself faster. He was getting close. He yanked harder still—

Tony groaned loudly and awoke with a jolt as Derek’s semen squirted onto his mouth and cheek.

“What the--? Get off of me, dammit!”

He began flailing with his fists, hitting Derek in the face as the equally startled boy tried to scramble off him and get out of his way.

“What the fuck?” Tony wiped Derek’s cum off his mouth with his hand. He pulled at the sash around his balls and saw that he had to untie it. “What the fuck? You freak!”

He kicked Derek in the side, knocking him off the bed onto the floor.

After freeing his testicles, Tony sprang off the bed.

Afraid the angry boy might kick him again, Derek curled into a ball.

“You fucker. We all thought you were a pussy, but nobody warned us you were a fucking fag. You make me wanna puke.”

He stomped to the door, and turned the handle futilely several times. He pounded on the door. Finally he figured out the lock and pulled the door open. He pushed aside the servant standing in front of him and ran naked down the hall.

The servant rushed to Derek’s side. Derek’s right eye was bruised and he was crying.

“Oh my poor master, was has that animal done to you?”

The servant helped Derek back onto his bed and brought him an icepack.

Laying in the dark, holding the icepack to his eye, Derek wallowed in self pity. The ramifications of his indiscretion could be dreadful. He expected that Tony’s masculine pride would keep him from immediately disclosing the sordid details of their encounter to his younger bunkhouse mates, but sooner or later he would voice some crack about the “faggot” young master. Or maybe he would whisper about it to some wench. Before long, word would spread around the entire estate that the Mandeville heir was a weakling pervert. The slaves would point at him and jeer.

Even worse, inevitably his father would learn of the disgrace. Derek shuddered to think of his reaction. Their relationship was already contentious. The elder Mandeville made no secret of his disappointment with his only son and heir. He considered Derek to be lazy and effeminate. He personally administered frequents whippings to his son in the apparent belief they would help toughen him up. An extreme traditionalist, he held fixed notions of the proper ordering and relations between men and women, masters and servants, and field slaves and eunuchs. When he learned his heir had committed a homosexual act with a field slave, and that the fact was common knowledge across the estate, he would be furious. This incident could be the last straw. At 42, he was still a young and vigorous man. There was ample time for him to quit mourning Derek’s mother, remarry, and create a more suitable heir. Derek could readily be discarded and left out in the cold.

The situation was intolerable. Slowly Derek’s thoughts turned from misery to anger. He began to see the incident in a new light. Why should he, the presumptive heir to the Mandeville fortune, be made to suffer for the offended straight male dignity of a mere slave? And the effrontery! That a slave would even consider striking and kicking his master and calling him names was unheard of. Such insubordination could not be countenanced. The time had come for Derek to show he had the backbone to take command, before events spun out of control.

He could think of only one way to salvage his reputation and position: the field slave Tony must become a house servant, and as quickly as possible. The brotherhood of household eunuchs, who all loved Derek and feared the master, would ensure his secret was safe.

His cock grew erect and he jerked himself to orgasm as the scenario unfolded in his mind.

Tomorrow morning, he would order the castration of the brazen stud.

Satisfied the sacrifice of Tony’s balls would save him, Derek nestled his head into his pillow and drifted off to sleep.