‘He’s awake now,’ someone said. A voice from inside Matthew.

Rodney was bending over him, looking into his eyes, and Matthew realised Rodney had been talking, not to him, but to someone inside him who had been using Matthew’s body and communicating with his mouth.

Matthew felt a chill.

‘Well, are you ready?’ Rodney said. He sat down on the stool in front of Matthew.

Matthew looked down at his cock. It was black, ruined. But it was erect again, the head of it poking straight up so that Matthew could see the eye, sealed, the flesh seared together by the heat of the iron brand.

He stared at it.

Below his cock, his balls were still swinging, trapped in their iron cage.

He supposed it might be alright. Briefly, he had the idea, looking at his ruined gear, that it might be alright. There would be something they could do about his cock. Skin grafts. Something. The urethra would heal. And his balls weren’t crushed. It was awful to look at, and it would never be the same, but still, it wasn’t hopeless.

And then he saw the knife, a carving knife, in Rodney’s hand. He had it lying across his naked thighs, and he was sitting on the stool, looking up at Matthew’s face. He followed Matthew’s eyes down to his groin again.

‘It’s a bit of a mess,’ he said, nodding at Matthew’s groin. ‘Still, you seem to be enjoying yourself.’

Matthew looked, open-mouthed, at his cock. Incredibly, it jerked, ready to blow another load. The thought of the knife was too much for him. What was Rodney going to do? Circumcise him?

‘I’m going to clean it up for you,’ Rodney said. He bent forward on the stool, the knife in one hand, while he took Matthew’s cock firmly in the other. He placed the blade of the knife on the top of Matthew’s cock, at the base, and then, before Matthew could even realise what had happened, Rodney had sliced through his cock, and he was moving away again, leaning backwards on the stool, with Matthew’s cock gripped firmly in his hand.

Matthew stared open-mouthed. That was his cock. In Rodney’s hand. Blood was drooling out of the end of it.

Matthew turned his head down and looked at his groin. There was an empty space. A round, red hole, where his cock had been, and it was pulsing blood. He didn’t understand. It hadn’t even hurt. Vaguely, he was aware of a satisfying warmth, deep inside him, and he could see the blood pulsing onto his thighs.

Rodney’s hands moved into the picture. Below where his cock had been, Matthew’s balls were still hanging, trapped in the iron crusher. Rodney had his hand on it, and he was turning the screw. He looked up at Matthew, and smiled.

Not his balls, Matthew thought, as he watched Rodney closing the plates together. And then he frowned. What did that matter? he thought, if Rodney had really cut off his cock.

He had. Matthew could see it lying on the floor. And there was blood pulsing out of his groin, and onto Rodney’s wrists.

The plates closed, and something in his balls gave. Matthew opened his mouth as he felt them rupture, and turn to mush.

Something deep within him jerked, and he watched, not understanding, as a load of come jetted out of his cockless groin. It hit Rodney in the abs and was sliding into his pouch.

‘Oh, dude,’ Rodney was saying, shaking his head and laughing. He kept turning the handle, flattening Matthew’s nuts out until they were mush, and as he watched, Matthew came again.

Rodney stopped. He shook his head, looking down at all the blood and come over him, and then he reached backward for the knife, which was lying on the floor next to Matthew’s blackened penis.

He picked it up, and moved forward with it quickly, like he was a skilled butcher. He sliced Matthew’s sack away, and the testicle crusher, with Matthew’s testicles still in it, clattered onto the ground.

Matthew came a final time, and he watched, hardly understanding, as it jetted out of his empty groin and hit Rodney in the face, because Rodney was moving forward, and pulling himself with one hand, as he buried his face into Matthew’s groin.

Matthew didn’t know what was happening. Rodney’s face was between his legs, licking, slurping, and Matthew’s cock and balls had been what? Cut off?

To one side of Rodney, Matthew could see his cock, lying on the ground, abandoned, and he had seen his balls fall onto the floor. He had felt it. Everything was loose and empty in his groin, and yet, he could hardly believe it was real.

Rodney lifted his head up. His mouth was covered in blood, and his eyes looked frightening, insane. The pouch was lifted up and he was pulling his cock. He moved toward Matthew and jetted his load, jetting it and angling it so that it pumped into Matthew’s ruined groin.

Matthew stared at it, incredulous, as the white streaks of come spurted onto his groin, his inner thighs and abs. Was that himself? That mess? There was so much blood.

He looked up at Rodney. Rodney was smiling. His face bloody. His eyes insane. He reached down between Matthew’s legs and picked the testicle crusher up. He held it in front of Matthew’s eyes, dangling it for a moment, and Matthew could see his ruined nuts inside it, and, in places, the white fleshiness of his testicles, where it had been squeezed out of the spikes.

Rodney bent down again, behind him, and picked up Matthew’s cock, and then he disappeared, walking behind Matthew, and far towards the back of the room where Matthew couldn’t see him.

For a long time, Matthew sat with his head hanging, looking down at his groin. The blood pulsed regularly, like a beating heart, and as he watched, Matthew began to wonder if they were going to leave him like this, to die in this basement, to bleed to death.

He lifted his head when Rodney reappeared in front of him. He was dressed, wearing jeans, and a T-shirt, and runners. He had cleaned his face and he could have been any fifteen-year-old kid. Except for the bottle. He held it up, in front of Matthew’s face, so that Matthew could see, and Matthew had an impression of how carefully they had planned this, whoever they were, right down to having a bottle of alcohol to take his gear away in. His blackened penis, and ruined testicles were floating, looking pathetic, and used, the insides of his testicles spiraling out of his fleshy scrotum like the embryo of an egg. His cock, deflated, but incredibly large, blackened, hopelessly.

‘These are mine,’ Rodney said, holding the jar up.

Matthew swallowed.

He felt like crying.

‘Luckily, I don’t have to clean up,’ Rodney said. And then he turned, and in a minute or so he was through the door, and the door was closing behind him.