Thecia and the yacht Panache

My name is Thecia and I’m a 31-year-old female cutter.

Three years ago I spent a summer on the Chesapeake, crewing on a racing yacht. The owner was a close friend but not a boyfriend. He didn’t like to sleep on the boat but I did. She was called Panache and moored at the city marina at Cambridge MD.

Moored in the next slip was a 40-foot trawler yacht. The owner and his wife lived aboard during the summer months. He was a quiet man and didn’t say two words to me, she was named dot and was much nicer. She was about 40 and had a great shape for her age. Some nights the lights would go out at 10 PM and everything would be quiet. But, on occasion, he would come back later and be quite drunk. On those nights I could hear them fighting and sometimes I thought I heard him hit her.

One evening in early August he and two friends played cards on the after deck till eleven or so. As they played and drank, they got louder and louder, and their language got rougher. I tried to sleep but their din kept me awake. The talk turned to sex and women. The woman at the local bar with the big tits, the blow job one got last week and so on. At around eleven, Matt, the boat’s owner said, "You want a great, tight pussy, go below and fuck my wife, she’s just a cum dumpster anyway." After a few more words the largest of the men said, "You mean it, don’t you?" Matt’s reply was "I sure do, but I fuck her first, she’s my wife." I couldn’t believe my ears.

He went below and I heard her saying "No no." Then the unmistakable sound of a slap followed by a few more.

I thought of calling the police, but, like most people, I didn’t want to get involved. The husband came up a very short time later and said "Charlie, you’re next." The big guy didn’t hesitate and went below. The third man followed before Charlie came up. When Charlie came on deck I heard him say "You were right, what a tight pussy." Matt smiled and said "she can deep throat too." "When Joe’s finished, make her blow you, you won’t be disappointed."

This went on till the wee hours, with all three men taking turns. I convinced myself that this must be a game the couple plays and I should stay out of it. I fell asleep and didn’t get up until 9 the next morning when my bladder woke me. Somewhere near eleven Matt got up and left the boat. An hour or so later I saw Dot cleaning the after deck. I said good morning and waved. She waved back but didn’t smile. Then she burst into tears and said, "I can’t do it anymore, I can’t take it." I told her what I had heard and asked her why didn’t she call the police. She said that he would kill her, really kill her. A plan began to form in my mind.

At that time I had only been a cutter for about three years and only done one "revenge" cutting. I told Dot that I had a plan and he would never hurt her again.

I kept a taser on the boat for protection, not a stun gun but a tool that threw wire needles up to 20 feet with the kick of 20,000 volts.

Two weeks went by without a card game, but there were a couple of beatings from the drunken husband. On the Friday of the second week, dot told me that the game was tonight. I told her to go to the bar near the marina and be seen by as many people as she could find, and to tip the bartender a twenty so he would remember her.

Then my little taser and I crept into her bunk and I pulled the covers up to the top of my head. I had to wait about four hours, but finally I heard Matt step down the steps from the after deck. He stood with his hard dick about a foot from my face and said, "Spread um, you cunt." At the same time he tore the covers from me. He had a half a second of surprise when he saw a woman ten years younger than his wife with a ski mask on her face. Then the taser hit him square in the chest. He dropped to the floor almost without a sound.
 The overhead on the trawler has hard points for securing hammocks, I tied him to one of them. I’m very good with rope and he wasn’t going to get free. It must have been a half-hour or so before Charlie walked into the sleeping cabin. He looked at Matt as the taser hit him. I gagged both men and patiently waited. It was only a few minutes when the last man came down. He opened his mouth to speak and he too hit the floor. Now I had all three gagged and hog tied to the boat.

I’m usually very careful and I do the castration the same way a surgeon would, but this was a special case.

I could only lift them so high, I only weigh about 125 and each man was over 190, in Charlie’s case well over 200 pounds. The way that I tied them made is so they could almost, but not quite, sit on the port bunk. I didn’t want to dull my scalpel so I removed their clothes the old fashioned way.

Charlie, the biggest guy had the smallest cock. It was nestled in his balls with just the head showing. The other two guys had average equipment, except that Matt’s balls were much larger than average. The men still didn’t know what was going on. I soon rectified that. I flashed my scalpel and said, "I’m going to slice your balls off." That got their attention and they began to fight their bindings. That only made the thin nylon rope cut deeper into their flesh. Then the reaction that still amazes me began to happen, each man’s cock began to grow hard. Then, to my surprise, the little tiny one that was embedded in Charlie’s balls began to grow and grow until it was much bigger than the other two.

I started with Joe, the smallest of the men. I told him that I was going to "drain" him one last time. And if he could hold out for a full five minutes, I would spare his balls. I donned my velvet glove and began stroking him as I played with his balls with my other hand. He didn’t last three minutes and his useless spunk dribbled onto the cabin carpet. His balls just hung over the bunk rail. I put my foot against his right ball and pressed it against the rail. Gently at first then harder and harder. I put my shoulders against the opposite rail for leverage. Tears were streaming out of his face and cum was still oozing from the tip of his cock. I asked him if it hurt and he nodded as if I didn’t know. With all I had I pushed and I actually heard the ball pop. A satisfying sound. He tried to scream but passed out instead.

Next came Charlie, The big man was in obvious fear but his cock still stood straight out. Again I used the velvet glove, my fingers wouldn’t quite go around it. He almost made the five minutes. When the time reached four and a half minutes, I pushed on his prostate and the streams began. Unlike Joe, Charlie didn’t just dribble. Three or four massive streams shot across the cabin before it slowed to a pulsing dribble. I asked him if he thought he could hold up better than his friend in the ball pressure test. If anything, his left ball popped easier and he didn’t pass out. I left him in his agony and turned to Matt.

There is no question that Matt knew what was going to happen to him, but still his cock stood at attention. I said, "Same deal, last five minutes and you keep your balls.) I went to work on his rock hard cock. Gently but steady, there were pearls of pre-cum forming on the tip, but still he didn’t erupt. When the time was almost to the five-minute mark, I tried all of the tricks that I could think up, still no cum. As a last resort I engulfed his hard-on with my mouth. I could taste the pre-cum but not a drop of the real thing. When the kitchen timer I used dinged that the time was up, I felt him relax and almost at once a huge load shot from deep in his balls. I pulled out of the way, no way did I want to taste his cum. He tried to smile, at least as much as the gag allowed. I looked in his eyes and said, "Not only do I nut men, I lie too, I’m still going to slice your nuts off." He lost the smug look and fear returned. I tried to press my foot on his left ball as I had the other men but the distance between the bunks here was wider and I couldn’t get leverage. I took the ball in my hands and squeezed as hard as I could. I’m just not strong enough, the ball held… so stealing a move from my friend Betty, I bit it. I got it as far back in my mouth as I could and bit as hard as I could. I felt it rupture, but in my frustration I kept chewing until it was a lump of ball sauce… just mush. I could even taste the blood in my mouth from his ruined sac. I didn’t believe what I had done, that was extreme, even for me.

There was a tea maker in the galley, one of those things that boils one cup of water by putting it right in the cup. I plugged it in to the 110 power and put it in a cup of water. I found a serrated kitchen shear in the knife drawer, I would not use a scalpel tonight.

I followed the same sequence as before. I pulled Joe’s nut sack as far as I could and simply sheared off the sack, cords, ducts and all. It fell into my hand, not a nice ball sack but a pile of blood and gore. Only one ball remained in its normal shape.

I took the tea heater out of the cup, waited a minute until it glowed red and seared the wound. Again, Joe passed out. Charlie was next, he fought for all he was worth against his ropes, but to no avail. In less than 10 seconds his nuts went the way of Joe’s. Again the burning flesh, and on to Matt.

The board that Matt’s left leg was tied to had pulled away from the bunk and that leg was loose. He tried to kick me with it. I went to his other side, where he could reach me with his leg, but it had no force. I grabbed his remaining uncrushed ball and squeezed. I said, "We’re not going to hurt each other, are we??" He screamed into the gag and gave up. I quickly retied the offending leg and again brought the poultry shears to bear. His balls fell off as easily as the other two sets. I seared the flesh and his bleeding stopped.

There is not much else to tell. I tossed the three mashed balls into the bay as fish food, I took the three intact testicles, tied them together, and ran them up on the flag halyard. They were hard to see up on the mast, but I knew that they were there. I packed the three sacks in formaldehyde to take to the lady in Mexico who tans them for me. I usually save the cut balls, but in this case, the flagpole seemed more fitting.

I left them hanging there, both the men and their balls. I threw the ski mask into the bay, walked up to the dock and then down to the Panache. I had a cup of tea and a cookie, read for a few minutes and went to bed. The next day the police were all over the trawler. I went on deck in my thong bikini to sunbathe and I watched them. (They watched me too.).

Respectfully submitted,

Thecia