I was frozen in fear. He was way too big for me to fight. I told him nobody had told me there were strings attached to the cigarettes and tried to reason with him. I said I could replace the cigarettes the next week. He said if I had three packs right now, he might accept them in place of me. But obviously I didn’t and I think he knew that. I promised I’d get them as soon as I could, but that didn’t do any good either. He said everybody knew what accepting cigarettes in prison means so I’d sold myself and he owned me now whether I liked it or not. That was the end of the conversation.

He started telling me what he expected me to do. I was to make his bunk as well as my own, do his laundry as well as my own, and clean his half of the cell as well as my own. I was not to speak to any other prisoner or any guard without his permission. I was not to read or send any letters until he read them first. And most frightening, I was to sleep in the nude, couldn’t even wear underwear to bed. Having finished, he said abruptly “Now come with me.”

Scared shitless, I did as ordered and followed him through the cell block. He led me through two checkpoints, telling the guards he was taking me “to see Doc.” They let us through without hesitation. When we got to the infirmary, he went up to a guy who clearly was “Doc.” Mac told me afterward that Doc was serving a 25 year sentence for practicing medicine without a license; he’d been castrating guys who wanted to have their balls cut off. Mac just told Doc “My new puppy needs to be fixed” and ordered me to take off my clothes. I knew there was nothing I could do so I stripped.

Doc told me to climb onto the examining table and strapped down my ankles and knees so I couldn’t bring my thighs together to prevent what was coming. Then he pulled out a safety razor and shaved my scrotum. When he was done, he applied betadyne all over it. Once done, he injected a local anesthetic into each thigh, adjacent to the scrotum.

He waited a minute or two and then pinched my scrotum on each side. Since I didn’t react, he went to work. Using a cauterizing scalpel to minimize the bleeding, he made just enough of an incision to push the left testicle out and cut the cords at each end. He pushed the cords back into my scrotum and stitched the incision closed. He repeated the procedure on the right side.

Mac and I returned to our cell 45 minutes after we arrived at the infirmary. Before we left, Doc told Mac to bring me back to get the stitches removed “in a week, as usual, and watch for signs of infection, as usual.” I understood now this wasn’t the first time Mac had done this. We again weren’t stopped at the checkpoints when we went back. I wanted to say something to a guard but didn’t dare, and besides it was too late. They couldn’t return my testicles to me.

It was almost lunchtime, so Mac led me to the day room so we could watch his favorite tv show. He had me sit next to him and put his arm around my shoulder to show everyone else he owned me. I suddenly started sobbing. Mac told me to be quiet or he’d give me something to cry about, so I stifled the sobs and he patted me on the head like I was an obedient puppy. When the show was over, it was time for lunch so we went and ate. He again kept an arm around me throughout the meal.

In this prison, there weren’t jobs for all the inmates, so Mac and I had nothing to do but go to our cell or the dayroom. We went back to the dayroom and watched tv the rest of the afternoon. I was going crazy just sitting and watching tv with Mac’s arm around me, but I had no choice. And this was only day one of up to three thousand six hundred and fifty. But that would only be the number if I didn’t get into trouble; if I had any infractions, it’d be more.

Finally, it was dinner time and we repeated the lunchtime routine. When we were done eating we returned to our cell. As soon as we got there, Mac ordered me to strip and bend over onto the bottom bunk. I understood what was coming and knew that there was nothing I could do to stop it so I did as ordered and got another pat on the head like a dog being trained. I realized that’s exactly what I’d become.

Mac stayed fully clothed but pulled his hardened dick out of his pants and pressed the head against me without any lubrication. He warned me to stay quiet, so I buried my face into the mattress and waited. After a few seconds, he pushed into me and grabbed hold of my hips, the entire thick 7” pushed in with one thrust. If I hadn’t buried my face into the mattress, I would’ve screamed bloody murder but I knew that would get me into big trouble.

It took a number of thrusts for Mac to get done, but finally he pushed in all the way and held it there as he shot into me. He moaned in pleasure as he did. But even though he was done, he didn’t pull out. He continued holding my hips for some period of time, I don’t know if it was one minute or three or five, but it seemed like eternity. I kept my face buried in the mattress.

Suddenly, I realized why he hadn’t pulled out and tried to pull away, though there was nowhere to go. He started peeing into me, saying “Hold still, hold still and stay quiet.” So now I understood I was to be a toilet for Mac, along with everything else. Finally, he got done and pulled out, telling me to stay where I was. After a time, he said to go ahead and empty myself. I got to the toilet as quick as I could and did so.

While I was sitting on the toilet, Mac got hard again and came over to me. Now he said “Suck it.” I’d never imagined myself giving another guy a blow job but realized this was going to be another job I had no choice about, so I started. I did my best, but a couple of times he slapped me because my teeth scraped his dick. Each time that happened I adjusted and eventually the slaps stopped. This time, he came quicker than when he raped me anally, but he made sure I swallowed every drop he pumped into my throat. Once more he patted me on the head before stepping back.

For two months, the routine stayed the same. I took care of Mac’s needs and desires. I learned I could never be certain when he might want sex, but had to be ready at the drop of a hat. I also had to do other things that violated prison rules. Getting caught occasionally would add time to my sentence, but I was trapped. Then, just at the 2-month anniversary of my castration Mac found a new target, an incoming blond 18 year old in the A and O unit.

This time, he sent me with three packs of cigarettes, saying I knew what to do. I exactly repeated what had been done to me, handing the poor unsuspecting kid the cigarettes and quickly disappearing. When the kid arrived in population two weeks later, Mac and I repeated the scene that he and the other guy had performed for me and the 18-year-old’s fate was sealed.

What I didn’t know was that I still belonged to Mac. It turned out that the guy that brought me the cigarettes when it was my turn, along with his previous turnouts, also still belonged to Mac. Mac simply started renting him out to other prisoners once I was in his control. The guy didn’t understand that when Mac told me I’d sold myself; that was why he smiled as if he was off the hook. But he was quickly pimped to other prisoners with all the money going to Mac.

So now I was in the same boat. I was forced to take $3 for oral sex, $5 for butt fucking, and – in a twist – Mac offered us in a “twofer” special where we had to take it both up the butt and down the throat at the same time for $6.50. For the rest of his prison time, Mac continued to snag unwitting young guys that he had Doc castrate, and then continued getting money from them after he was finished with them himself. When I was paroled, I found out Mac’s ownership didn’t end then either.

I was released at seven and a half years, the same day as the guy that first gave me Mac’s cigarettes. A car pulled up as we were waiting at the bus stop to go somewhere; I don’t think either of us knew for sure where we wanted to go, we just wanted to get away from the prison. A guy in the front passenger seat signaled both of us to get into the back seat, which we did, I guess we were both too used to obeying orders. They drove us to a male brothel in Las Vegas, where we were forced to continue servicing guys as long as we were handsome enough to keep the clients happy. It turned out that Mac had sold us one last time, for $500 each. And he kept selling inmates he’d turned out once they were released. When he got out at age 50, he kept his newest two catches for himself. They became his sexual slaves for the rest of his and their lives