I was born in the slums, one of many siblings. I lost contact with them all at the tender age of eleven years. My recent attempts at locating any of them have proved fruitless. The slums where I lived for my first eleven years have long since been demolished, replaced with middle class housing, well out of the reach of the dispossessed masses.

Well out of my reach.

I earned my living hawking in the city: selling whatever I could to whoever I could. I earned enough to feed myself but little else.

Oh how the mighty fall! Fate took me from nothing to a life of riches.

Then shamelessly discarded me.

I was one of dozens of boys, all of a similar age, who had been taken by their parents to be paraded before the twelve year old daughter of the Prince.

We were all dressed up in our finest clothing – which meant clothes that had at least been washed recently! All of us were children of the slums. We were all lined up in the courtyard under the sweltering sun, silent and very still. We were lined up like that for nearly an hour before the gates in front os us opened and the young Princess came through with half a dozen courtiers and advisers. The walked slowly down the line, carefully keeping their distance but examining each of us in turn. Every now and again the Princess would stop and engage in hushed conversation with her entourage before moving on again.

The gates then re-opened and the Princess and all her courtiers bar one left. The man left behind then approached us and walked swiftly down the line, pulling six boys in total out from the rest.

I was one of the six.

As we stood in a huddle the remaining boys were led away, returning to their families. Returning to the slums.

I noted with interest that all six of us, the “chosen ones” looked remarkably similar: all were light skinned with light brown hair. Clearly the Princess knew what she liked!

This was the start of a week of testing: a week of being constantly observed. We were all taken straight from the courtyard to a small bath house in the grounds of the estate where our shoddy clothing was removed and we were ushered into a large and very hot communal bath. Matronly women attended to us, scrubbing each of us from head to toe and oiling us down. We were then dressed in simple white robes, not dissimilar to nightshirts, and taken to the kitchens where we were fed.

The week passed in a blur: mostly were given simple tasks to do, always watched carefully by several silent observers. I do, however, remember one occasion towards the end of the week very clearly. We were ushered into a large hall and each told to stand on low platform. While we were standing there the Princess entered, accompanied by an older woman and followed by several observers. The Princess stopped at the front of the hall and turned to face us. The older woman then stepped forward and told us all to remove our robes. I turned quite red at the prospect of standing naked in front of all these people, and especially in front of a twelve year old girl, even if she was a Princess. The fixed gaze of the older woman, however, made it clear that this was not optional! I slid my robe slowly over my head and dropped it tentatively by the side of the platform on which I stood. Instinctively I moved my right hand so that it covered my genitals in a way that I hoped wasn’t too obvious. I looked up to see the Princess staring directly at me. I turned a deep shade of red and then, hesitantly, moved my hand slowly back to my side. The Princess continued to look directly at me as I stood there, naked, completely exposed and feeling more embarrassed that I had ever been before.

But the embarrassment didn’t end there. The older woman then led the Princess to each of us in turn, accompanied by someone I was later to find out was the Court physician. Our bodies were carefully examined all over: any blemishes and scars being noted by the Physician.

The Princess then left with her entourage, we were told to put our robes back on and the day continued as each day before.

On the seventh day I was woken from my sleep and led into the Palace. This was the first time I had stepped foot in the actual Palace: our week had been spent in many of the dozens of smaller building which sat on the grounds. This was when I was introduced to Victor.

Victor was an advisor to the Royal Family. He explained that the decision had been made: I had been chosen by the Princess to become her soul mate.

It was tradition that each female member of the Royal family had a soul mate, a confidant: someone to attend to her physical needs, but also to her emotional needs. A soul mate who would remain with her for life. A soul mate who would loyal to her and no-one else. A soul mate who would protect her with his life.

The role is not to be confused with that of a husband! A Royal husband fathered children and gave orders. He may be kind and loving, but then again, he may not. But above all he would have many wives: a soul mate had only one person to be loyal to.

I was chosen, but I was not a soul mate yet. I was to wait three years for that! The three years were spent educating me and preparing me for my life role. My education was wide ranging, from academic knowledge to court etiquette and the politics of the court. I was made privy to many secrets, not least secrets about the other members of the Royal Family: after all, I was to answer to the Princess, and the Princess alone. Protecting her from other members of her own family was an important aspect of my duties.

I was also physically prepared for my role. My head was shaved, my penis tightly circumcised and my body kept scrubbed and oiled: cleanliness was highly regarded.

I had no further contact with my parents or any of my family: I knew they had been paid well for giving me to the Court, and I also knew that money would be quickly spent.

I was allowed to roam freely in the grounds of the Palace on Sundays, along with the other servant children of the court. There were four other boys of a similar age to me and we spent most of our free time together climbing trees and swimming in the moat.

And so I adjusted to this comfortable life and routine, a life poles apart from that I had left behind.

Until the day I woke up with a sticky, wet patch on my nightshirt. The first and last time I would have a wet dream.

I was fourteen - bit older than most boys reaching puberty. I was still very small and looked hardly any different than when I first came to Court at age eleven. But my testicles had been quietly growing and had now begun to produce their first sperm.

My comfortable routine changed radically from that moment. Preparations began for the ceremony which would install me as the soul mate of the Princess: a ceremony that would take place three months after my first ejaculation.

Formal lessons ceased almost completely. The day following that first wet dream I was taken to a small but lavishly appointed room by Victor. His duty was to teach me how to masturbate! Lots of oil and patient instructions on how to manipulate my still rather small penis eventually overcame my embarrassment and produced my first orgasm. This “lesson” was repeated each day for the next week. Some days I managed an orgasm without too much difficulty but on others I had trouble getting myself turned on. Victor persisted and I was not allowed out of the room until I had ejaculated.

During the second week the lessons were doubled: I was made to ejaculate twice a day, every day: it was believed that the more a person ejaculated the more sperm their testicles would produce.

Twice a day became three times a day, then four. My penis became very sore at times despite the use of oils.

For the first week Victor was the only person present while I masturbated. After that Victor started bringing others in to watch. I had become used to Victor being present while I masturbated but my embarrassment returned when others joined him. On the first occasion a matron walked in while I was gently stroking myself and again instinct took over and I quickly curled up in an effort to hide my erect penis from view. Victor explained that I would be required to masturbate as part of the soul mate ceremony so I had to get over my embarrassment of being watched. He made me lie flat on my back again and continue stroking myself until I eventually ejaculated while the matron watched intently.

A few weeks later Victor told me I would be using a different room for my masturbation sessions from now on, and led me into large hall in the centre of the Palace. In the middle of the hall was a raised table. This hall was the central hub of the Palace: the walls were lined with doors leading to corridors and rooms. It was seven in the morning but already dozens of people were walking around, going about their business. I looked at Victor with pain in my face. “Get used to it!” was all he said, then he pointed me to the raised table.

I was terrified and walked very slowly to the table, my breath coming in gasps with each step I took. I stopped at the bottom of the steps up to the table and looked back at Victor. He simply nodded. I took a deep breath and slowly, very slowly, lowered my robe to expose my naked body to all he walked by. I wanted to look around to see if anyone had noticed but I was too terrified to do anything but look straight ahead and force me feet to carry me one step at a time to the table top. There I lay down, closed my eyes and began stroking my penis.

That day I lay on the table for nearly an hour before I finally managed to ejaculate and Victor let climb down and cover myself once again with my robe.

Three hours later I was led back to repeat the procedure. My penis was very sore from the first time of the day and my balls were completely empty. Victor had no compassion for me: as always he hade me masturbate until I had ejaculated, by which time my penis was red raw and throbbing painfully.

And again at 3pm.

And again at 7pm before bed.

Over the following months my penis slowly grew, trying to catch up with the previous growth of my testicles. I also developed my first few pubic hairs. Admittedly you would need to look very closely to see them, but they were there none-the-less!

Ejaculating four times a day was still very difficult, my penis was still quite sore a lot of the time. I did, however, become more skilled at making myself ejaculate quickly, and slowly became more accustomed to lying naked on a platform and playing with myself while lots of people watched. In fact my sexual energy was so sapped by the constant ejaculations that looking at the people as they stood around watching me became the method I used to get myself turned on! No-one in the ever reacted to me or communicated with me in any way. I tried catching the eye of the younger, more attractive women and smiling, hoping to get a smile back. I never did.

Just as I was getting used to this routine Victor again raised the stakes. One lunchtime I entered the hall to find chairs had been arranged around my table, thirty or more in total. I looked around the “audience”, all here just to watch me masturbate. Some of them were watching me as I entered the hall but most were carefully looking away, embarrassed. As I looked around the audience I walked slowly to my platform. And stopped while still twenty paces away: there, in the front row on the other side of the table were four faces I knew very well. My friends. The same ones I had played with every Sunday for the last three years!

They were all sitting with their heads bowed down, clearly uncomfortable with what they had been press ganged by Victor to do: to watch their friend while he masturbated. One of them raised his head and gave me a small smile. I tried to smile back but the muscles in my face had frozen solid.

The audience had to sit there watching me for an hour and a half that day. An hour and a half while I used every skill I had in an effort to make myself erect and finally, painfully, ejaculate.

From then on my friends were often made to sit in the audience. Then when there was only a few days to go before the ceremony Victor let me lie in, missing my 7am masturbation. I was taken to the hall by Victor for the second session only to find a row of golden raised chairs had been set out in the front row, the centre one occupied by the Princess herself and the others by members of her family including several of her brothers and sisters. I looked at Victor and for once he smiled at me. “That’s why I let you miss the morning session,” he said. “We don’t want to keep them waiting for an hour, do we!”

And “we” didn’t.

I managed to ejaculate in 20 minutes – which considering the stress I was under was pretty damn good!

The eve of the great ceremony arrived all of a sudden. I had not masturbated the day before, and was told I would not be masturbating that day either.

Victor had sat me down and carefully went through what I had to do and what was expected of me. My jaw dropped open. Tears welled up in my eyes.

No!

I turned from him and screamed. I got up to run but Victor was faster and much stronger. My genitals may have started developing but my body was still that of a much younger boy.

Now I knew why I had been made to masturbate as I had. Now I knew what all the fuss was about. Thinking back I realise I must have been very naïve! I was to have unfettered and completely unsupervised access to the Princess, twenty four hours a day. I was to share her bedroom, help her bathe, dress her and hold her when she needed support. This was a role that only a eunuch could undertake!

I was bathed by the matrons on the morning of the ceremony. My head was shaved clean and my body oiled. I was dressed in a simple, white robe with a red sash and led to the Great Hall – the same hall I had been visiting each day for the past two months.

I stood in a corridor just outside until I was prompted by Victor to walk in. I turned and looked at him and he whispered back, “Be brave!”

The hall looked very different. There was tiered seating on three sides with hundreds of people. At the front, raised above them all, was a row of golden chairs populated by the Prince and his extended family. In the centre of the hall my table had been replaced with a very plush, padded platform. The steps up to it were carpeted in red. And over it was a gantry from which hung a pully and rope.

I followed Victor’s instructions to the letter.

I stopped short of the platform, turned, and bowed to the Royal family. I straightened up to see the Prince himself nod his head at me ever so slightly.

I then turned, undid the sash on my robe and then slowly let the robe fall to the floor. I glanced down at my naked body, on show now to all. In particular I looked at my testicles. My balls. I hadn’t really had time to enjoy them very much – every day since my first night time ejaculation three short moths ago I had been forced to empty them over and over again. Now, for the first time I realised I didn’t know them at all. Because I hadn’t ejaculated for two days my balls felt huge and heavy. They hung large and low between my legs. My penis had also grown a lot. The skin was tight because of the radical circumcision they had given me three years ago and when my penis was erect my balls were pulled up the shaft. But now my penis lay limp, nearly hanging down as far as my balls. And that would be it: I knew it wouldn’t grow any more – that I would never know how big it would have been.

I raised my head, took a deep breath and climbed the steps. I lay down on the padded platform and Victor walked over to me. He placed a noose tightly around my scrotum and attached the other end to a hook below the pully. He smiled at me but said nothing.

I began stroking my penis, my eyes closed in an effort to forget the hundreds of people now watching me. In an effort to forget what was about to happen.

I became erect quite quickly, probably because my balls were so full. But I took my time. “Don’t rush,” Victor had said. “Build it up slowly so when you cum it will be like a volcano erupting!”

I reached the point of climax in minutes but held back and tried to relax. Again I reached the brink, and again. Eventually I could contain myself no more and I felt the unstoppable force begin to erupt from the head of my very erect penis. Just as the pressure began to find an outlet I felt the noose around my balls pull tight. I screamed and arched my back up to relieve the force on my scrotum just as the first volley of cum burst from the head of my swollen, well oiled penis.

The noose pulled tighter, my body was pulled higher. I screamed louder and louder. I could arch my back no more yet still the noose raised me up.

A second volley of cum burst out from my penis which was now pointing directly down at my contorted face. The cum splattered all over my chin and up my nose.

For an instant my whole body was lifted from the platform by the noose tied around my balls. Just for an instant. Then my quivering penis erupted for the last time. One last, massive squirt of cum which ran all down my chest. Then pain. Different pain. Sharp pain.

Victor had taken a sharp knife and in one stroke sliced through my scrotum just below the noose.

My head swam but I did not pass out. My body floated back down to the platform in delirious slow motion and I landed with a thump. Victor was immediately pressing a wad of cloth tightly against my neutered crotch. He was speaking to me but I could not hear the words. All around me I heard cheering and applause. My eyes were open but my vision blurred with tears. All I could see was a noose hanging over me. A noose which held my severed scrotum with the contents held tightly in place by the neck of the noose. They swung slowly like a pendulum, back and forth, back and forth, looking for all the world like my balls.

Because that is what they were.

But not for long. They were to be given to the Princess. Or, more accurately, I had to give them to the Princess.

I was taken to the infirmary to recover. My balls were soaked in some sort of preservative. They remained in the scrotum which was still tied tightly closed by the noose. A few days later they were taken from the preservative to be slowly dried. I was taken to see them when I was discharged from the infirmary a couple of weeks later. There they were, hanging in the smoky chimney, all shrunken, dry. With six small black hairs curling out from the now leathery skin.

My wound healed well but it was very strange to walk around without feeling my balls bouncing between my thighs: just a smooth, empty space. My penis, which had never had the chance to get very big anyway, seemed to have shrunk and was little more than an acorn sticking straight out from my crotch. Only the very tight circumcision prevented the head disappearing completely.

And this was how I was presented to the Princess. My Princess. Entirely naked and devoid of my manhood. I stood in the middle of the room, the ante-room to the Princess’s chambers. My hands raised up to my chest where they held a small, ornately carved wooden box with a small glass window in the side. The last resting place of my most treasured possessions which I offered to Princess as she entered the room. My head bowed, the Princess paused a moment and looked down at the shrunken head that was now my penis and the empty space that was clearly visible below it, then took the box from me and kissed me on the forehead.

“Come” she said as she turned back to her rooms.

For the first time in weeks I smiled. ‘Come’, I thought? No chance of that any more!

To be continued…