Byzantium 12: The Pet

She would also have me serve her, with her servant girls, while she dressed and bathed. Thus I saw all her body from an early age. She was a beautiful woman, in her late twenties, my master’s second wife. I can remember her pale full breasts, that dark triangle of hair between her thighs, and the smells of soft oils and perfumes. Even when I was very young my prick used to get stiff as I watched her.

Then when I was twelve I began to get hair on my stomach and my prick began to grow. One night as I slept, I dreamed about one of my mistress’ maids and in a strange voluptuousness I felt something overwhelming come over me. I woke and with that waking found my stomach wet with something which, when I looked at it, made all the stories I heard make sense – the seed that came from men that went into women to make children.

It wasn’t long afterwards that I was in a laundry room with one of my mistress’ handmaidens. She was around the same age as I.

‘You’ve been growing,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Your prick must be growing too…’ she commented.

And then she asked to see it.

I unbuttoned my trousers with my heart beating. Already I could feel my prick rousing and she knelt down to see it and she cupped my balls with her hands and she stroked it until suddenly I squirted out my seed.

It was a week until the next time she and I were together and this time it was me who asked and I made her lift up her skirt so I could see between her legs. This time I shot there, my seed covering her neat patch of hair.

Then I learned something about my future that changed everything.

The house-manager came to me one day, followed by one of the men who worked in the stables. He asked me to follow him and we went to my own room where he asked me to lower my trousers and lift up my shirt.

I was blushing as I exposed myself to these two men. Then the man from the stables handled my balls and my prickle. Even though the experience was strange, my prickle reacted by jerking up and beginning to swell.

The man from the stables snorted.

‘And he’s quick off the mark…’

I felt him pull on my balls again and feel them inside the skin.

Then he ruffled his fingers in the short hairs that had started growing there above my prick.

‘He’s ready,’ he said to the house-manager, his hands down on my balls again ‘we could cut them any time.’

The house-manager nodded.

‘I’ll tell the master,’ the house-manager said, ‘Now, pull your pants up, boy, and go back to work.’

I pulled my trousers up with my mind bewildered by what the man from the stables had said. What were they going to do? Were they going to cut my balls off as if I was a bull-calf or a horse? Why were they going to do it? I’d never heard of boys being cut before…

That afternoon I spent in a tumult. It in the evening, as my mistress was dressing for dinner and I was suddenly alone with her that I plucked up the courage to say something.

‘Mistress,’ I said, ‘may I speak to you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, putting on an earring.

I began to explain about the house-manager but I found myself embarrassed by what I had to tell her and the story did not come out well.

‘They said that I was ready to have my …’

Words failed me.

‘They said they were going to have to cut me,’ I said, hopelessly.

My mistress stopped and sat down in her chair.

‘Now come here,’ she said, and I stood beside her. She ruffled my hair and looked at me.

‘You know that you are my favourite,’ she began, ‘and I want you to stay with me forever. Would you like that?’

‘Yes, mistress,’ I said.

‘But boys begin to grow and then it is not appropriate for them to be with women when they are dressing or bathing. So we can fix that by having a little cut to your stones. Then you can stay with me forever.’

I did not understand.

‘It only hurts a little bit,’ she continued. ‘I’ll stay with you when it’s done. And then you’ll be able to be my servant and never go away.’

I did not know what to say.

‘Now, cheer up, ‘ she said, ‘it isn’t the end of the world, and when it is done we’ll get you a whole new uniform and I’ll see if the master will give you a pony.’

That whole night I was puzzled and when I went to bed I slept with my hands around my balls.

I did not have long to wonder. The next day was busy as we prepared apartments for the mistress’ sister who was to arrive that night but while I noticed that there were muffled conversations that seemed to stop when I came near, I had little time to think about them. Sometimes the incidents of yesterday came to my thoughts. What was the little cut, my mistress talked about? How was it done? Was it going to hurt? But it seemed far away, somehow, in the bustle of the household tasks.

It was in the middle of the afternoon that the mistress summoned me to her.

‘Now come with me,’ she said.

I followed her down the passageway until I realised with surprise that we were going to my own room, off the stairs. She opened the door. Inside there was the house-manager, the man from the stables who’d seen me yesterday, and a big youth, about eighteen, looking awkward in his leather apron.

My bed had been pulled out from the wall and there were thongs tied to the bars at its head.

‘Now you know what we were talking about yesterday,' my mistress said to me, ‘the man here is going to do it now. I want you to be a brave boy and do exactly as you are told.’

I could not believe it. I did not know what to say. My bed had a big thick cloth laid across it. There were some bowls on the floor. I tried to say something but I couldn’t.

‘Help him undress,’ the house-manager said to the youth.

He came towards me and just took the base of my tunic in his hands and lifted it up. It came up over my head and suddenly I was standing there bare-chested. The familiar room seemed over-full with people. Then he pulled at the tie on my pants and the knot came undone and my pants fell down and I had nothing on.

The room was quiet. I had never stood naked before my mistress before and I did not dare look at her. I wanted to cover myself somehow.

‘Now on the bed,’ the house-manager said and the youth guided me towards it.

I could smell his odour of sweat. He pushed me onto the matress and in a moment I was laid there and I would have put my hands over my prick but already the youth, on one side, and the stable man, on the other, had lifted my hands up and were tying them to the thongs that had been looped over the bars of the bedhead.

‘Do you want to give him the rag now, ma’am,’ asked the house-manager.

My mistress leaned over towards me with a ball of wet cloth in her hand.

‘Now open your mouth and bite on this. I’ve put some honey with it to sweeten it,’ she said.

And I opened my mouth and she put the strange-tasting cloth in my mouth, balled up there. I bit on it and it filled my mouth with its musty taste of honey and wool.

‘His legs now,’ said the housemaster.

Both the youth and the other man went down to my legs and suddenly, surprising me, they lifted them up and pulled them towards my head.

I grunted and felt my body lift as they pulled my legs up nearly to my ears. They tied my ankles with the thongs and it was strange. My underparts were all wide apart and exposed. The position was horroble. With the gag in my mouth, it was hard to breathe and my breaths seemed bigger than I could reach.

I was just held there by the bonds, looking between my own legs, to where the house-manager and my mistress stood, only too aware of what they could see and ashamed of it.

My mistress walked up to my end of the bed and she pulled a stool out and sat beside me.

‘Now it won’t take long, I’ve made them promise me that, and as soon as you’re better the master is going to give you that pony.’

As she said it I felt a hand on my balls. I looked between my legs again and I could see the man who had touched me yesterday. He pulled down on my nuts suddenly and it hurt and I grunted with the pain. My mistress stroked my face with her hands. I felt something light go up my skin there and I looked and he had a small string that he was tightening around my balls, up high. I felt it tighten and bite into me. I tried to wriggle and twist but I couldn’t. I could feel myself break out into a sweat. The position my body in was beginning to ache and there was a tight pain down in my balls, which hurt and felt hot.

‘We’ll just let the knot rest,’ said the man.

‘You’re doing well,’ said my mistress and she reached under my calves and mopped my brow with a damp cool cloth.

The room was quiet again. I could see the youth who’d help tie me standing down the other end, just watching. I could feel myself apart in front of him. I was close to my prick. It was almost in my face, from that position I was tied in and I could see it start stirring. It was like the tightness around my balls had become a warm itch. And somehow it was making me hard. The mistress mopped my brow again.

‘It won’t be long,’ she said.

But it seemed forever. My prick was now hard. I could see it’s head move out of my foreskin. Then the man sat on the bed and looked down at me there. He reached up and pulled on my balls a bit again. His pulling made my prick lift up.

‘He’s ready,’ the man said.

His words leapt within me and I wanted to wriggle and struggle but I couldn’t.

Then I felt him put something underneath me. I didn’t know what it was. I could feel something smooth against my back, under my butt. It took me a long moment to realise it was a bowl and the thought of it waiting there for my blood or whatever made my heart race. I wanted to call out then and say not to do it. My stomach, constricted as it was, felt strange. I could feel air under my balls, between my legs, on my asshole which seemed to be open to everyone’s gaze.

The youth shifted at the end of the bed and moved to the side. I knew he just wanted to see. Somehow I could tell. His face was intent, watching. Then the man pulled on my balls again and this time hard. I grunted and screwed my eyes shut. I could feel him moving my balls around

‘There, there,’ my mistress said to me

I opened my eyes again and I could see the man’s hand there with a curved and pointed knife in it, close to my balls. I shut my eyes again and screwed them tight. I could hear myself make noises then suddenly I felt him cut me there.

Then I felt the coldness of the knife in me and slicing. I shouted, my mouth filled with that rag nearly choking me, and I thrashed but I could do nothing against the pain. He was holding me by my nuts and I couldn’t twist. The pain was red behind my eyes. It felt strange and wet and there were movements down there and things pulled inside of me, deep down, almost making me sick and I felt my prickle spurt onto my face as if it had been waiting for this moment.

‘That’s one,’ the man said.

Somehow I opened my eyes and I could see him there, bent over my, his hand wet and a bit bloody and his focus on mre and the pain was awful. I closed my eyes shut again and felt him as he moved his hands and then it began again. And it didn’t stop. I was biting on the rag as hard as I could but everything hurt and there was that strange feeling again, pulling and tugging within me, making me almost sick, and I felt a new splattering of watery seed over my face.

‘That’s done, I heard the man say, above the sound of my own gagged crying in my ears.

Then something was untied down there and there were hands on my ankles and I felt myself freed with my legs laid down on the bed. They didn’t untie my hands and I twisted my lower body and thrashed.

‘Shhh,’ my mistress said, ‘it’s all done now,’

I hurt so much down there. I wanted to rub it or to press it but I couldn’t. I opened my eyes. The youth was looking at me with almost a smile on his face. The man was showing the mistress a bowl.

‘That’s both of them,’ the man repeated as my mistress gazed into the bowl.

‘I think his legs need retying to the end,’ said the house-manager and as I still tried to turn and bury the deep hurt, my legs were tied again to the far end of the bed.

‘That’ll stop him thrashing around,’ the house-manager said, sounding satisfied.

‘I’ll care for him now,’ said my mistress, ‘your work is done.’

And suddenly the room was empty. She pulled her stool down the bed and sat near my groin and then she wiped me there with a wet cloth. She handled my prickle and she put the cloth between my legs. The wetness stung me. Then she stood up and wiped my chest and face clear of my seed.

‘You’ve been a brave boy,’ she said.

She took out my gag and I howled with tears and hurt. I took great gasps of air. Then she poured a bit of wine in my mouth. All there was for me was that huge ache and stinging down where my balls had been taken from me.

‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘They’ve all gone now and you’ll be able to be my servant for a long, long time.’

And she stroked my face where my tears continued to flow at the pain of the emptiness down between my legs that would not go away.