Honey - Part 1

I looked down at my wilted member as the last of the soap slid off of me under the onslaught of the shower head. I suspect it was about 3 inches long now, and it dangled like a wet noodle, dangling over the conspicuously empty space underneath it. The space that when previously filled caused my willy to be around 8 inches this early in the morning. But, oh the price you will pay for security or comfort. They say everyone has their price, and I had met mine and all-in-all it wasn't that bad. Wistfully, I sometimes thought of that sensation that I used to have, that one before the cum flowed, that expanding feeling inside of me – all that much better when someone was inside of me at the time. But again, I couldn't quite recall that feeling either...

I could hear the insistent buzzing, and I cursed the fact that I forgotten to turn my alarm off when I got out of bed, now it was going off again. All the better anyway, it was time to dry off and forget about the past pleasures and get on to my daily duties.

I rushed out of the shower naked and into the bedroom to turn off the alarm. I didn't want the driver complaining. There were no trips planned for today so he would have his morning to sleep in. I almost couldn't remember the last time I slept in, or even got to bed early, these mid-westerners sure liked to have the full use of any time the sun was up. I put on my uniform, which was like a butler's uniform with a kilt, the family in this house were of Scottish descent and the mansion had that flair of the Scottish highlands to it anyway. As was customary, I went regimental. To tell you the truth, the feel of underwear had become unfamiliar to me and I could almost not recall the time when I wore that either.

I must be getting depressed, I thought, for all these memories to come to me – insisting on being remembered. I sighed as I thought that I'd probably be having my cycle, the one that started shortly after my hot flashes ended years ago, every once in a while a cycle of emotional disinterest or straight-out depression Truly the day had already been filled with a bit of melancholy, or it was the fact that it was 6am and I hadn't been to bed until just after midnight. The Master and Mistress of this house insisted that I was well within my rights to remain with them after such an evening, but on more occassions than can be counted I chose to return to my bedroom for the evening.

Not that it was a bad bedroom. The Master and Mistress had a grown and gone son, and the servant's quarters were vast and spacious. This, however, was one of what could only be referred to as a Master Suite in a smaller home that was reserved for the Children. I did have to take the one farthest from the Master and Mistress' room as they were loud in their lovemaking when left to themselves. Sometimes I was curious as to if they were trying to signal me to come in and join them when they yelled so much. That was why my bedroom wall adjoined the bedroom wall of the Servant's Quarters where the Driver slept his late-morn sleep.

I met the cook in the kitchen and she handed me the paper and the tray for their breakfast in bed. I had never met people like these two. In front of the servants I called them 'Master' and 'Mistress', out of respect, but in their company I was to call them Mike and Jeanine. I carried their tray to the real Master Suite. Setting them both at the foot of the bed on the stool they used to remove or put on shoes. The drapes were heavy but I'd gotten used to drawing them.

“Mike? Jeanine? It's 6:30, time to wake.” I softly said. They were so dear in their beds. I don't know when I began to feel some paternal or maternal feelings for them, they were just over twice my age, but they were what I felt to be 'my charges', and I was proud of them.

Jeanine stirred first and stretched, she blinked and a smile came to her lips. “Hey honey...” she said in her usual fashion during her stretch.

“Good morning Miss...” I said to her in formal fashion. That started immediately, I always called her 'Miss', it had become her affectation and it had endeared her to me more when we first met.

“Oh damn...” she said as she shoved the sheets aside, “I must pee.” and off she scurried to her bathroom naked and closed the door.

It was then that I felt the hand under the kilt. Sometimes Mike's first morning gestures involved morning satisfactions. He wasn't much for words and had always been a studious man since I met him. His hand went up the downy-light fur on my legs, really unnoticeable to anyone looking, but I knew it was there. Within moments he was feeling the space where my orbs once resided and stroking the underside of my flaccid penis. His touch always felt good, his hands so gentle, being that he was a surgeon and the one who had transformed me, I would suppose it was a good thing.

The blankets were shoved aside by Mike's other hand to reveal his perfect body, for a man of almost sixty. I'm not sure why men his age would require Viagra as it appeared that he had no problem gaining or maintaining an erection.

Years ago, I began to feel sorry for Mike and the other men that had taken me since my transformation. They were so controlled by the orbs between their legs. In my paternality I felt a need to help them to relieve their pressures. I was relieved of those pressures and I knew how good life can be without the constant need to get off. Even when I was on the streets of New York I had found the needs compulsive, a good wank before I'd manage to concentrate on my even basic daily survival. The cum would flow, I would recover, and I would leave to search the garbage or beg for change on the street. I would occassionally sell myself on the street for the necessary funds to eat, indeed that's where Mike and I met.

“Good morning Honey” he said as he smiled and stretched, shoving his large erection into the vacant air above the sheets. “Care to help an old guy out this morning?”

I grabbed his pounding erection gave it a few strokes as his hand spasmed between my legs. I was always sure to be soft and smooth against his delicate and velvety skin. In fact, his ten inches of uncut cock was the first noncircumcized penis I'd ever seen, and the most velvety of any cock I'd ever tasted or experienced. It was the most comfortable feeling I'd ever experienced, no need really for lubricant after I'd shined it up a bit with my saliva. That extra skin kept it nice and fluid as it pushed and pulled inside of me. I gave the glistening head a few preliminary licks and ran my tongue down the shaft, doing my best to attend to his sensitive foreskin.

It was when I took him in my mouth initially that Jeanine came from the bathroom. She grabbed the paper, a bagel and her coffee as she passed them. Placing them on the nightstand next to their ornate bed she mounted the bed and came across to kiss her husband of thirty-five years.

“Good morning Gorgeous...” she said as my chin met with Mike's orbs.

Between gasps he kissed her back and smiled, “Good morning, Beautiful.” he said caressing her face with his free hand, holding my limp dick in his other. She kissed her way down his chest and to his belly where she stopped and stared at me on Mike's cock, the saliva on his cock glistened and slid out of my mouth as I lubed him up well.

“No kiss for me Honey?” she asked. I took my head off his rigid member and smiled up at her. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve I leaned to kiss her with the cutest look I could muster.

“Oh, now you're going to ruin that shirt.” she stated smiling as she leaned in to kiss me. I kissed her the best I could and she responded in kind, pulling me over Mike towards her.

Mike got up from underneath and stretched, then he gripped my waist and adjusted me on the bed so that I could be ready for him. Jeanine was laying on her back in our embrace and kiss, my hand going to her ample and firm breasts as Mike's mouth went to my boyhole.

A moan escaped mine and Jeanine's lips as I felt his hot tongue touch across my tiny scar, his lips caress my dangling pecker on his path to my hole. His tongue was quick and fruitful and my boypussy opened for its invasion.

Not many sensations of sexuality were left to me after the loss of testosterone in my system, my desire for the intimacy and cuddling grew over the years. Mike and Jeanine's attentions increased as my desire for their intimacy manifested itself. I wasn't so much into the sex at first and couldn't understand why they needed me at first either, but it had made their lovemaking more intense as my need to be with them intensified. It wasn't that sudden hormonal rush that required me to find a safe space to drop my pants and wank in a New York Alleyway, it was a warm desire that stayed everypresent.

There were mornings like this, not over fifty percent of the time, but I always wanted to be ready to please Mike and with my morning shower there was my morning cleansing to be sure that he'd have the best satisfaction inside of me.

From what I was able to discover in those first few months after being brought into the mansion, Mike was insatiable in his desires and a little forceful at times too. Jeanine was a softer type, that while constantly interested in sex as well wanted more variety. Honestly, they were almost incompatible sexually, yet they had managed to build this fantastic life together. On the verge of divorce many years ago they went to an island retreat where Mike could explore his bondage and domination desires and Jeanine could explore her submissive desires. It was during that trip that they both confiirmed that they were sexually incompatible, both of them were dominant and neither wanted to play submissive anymore. It didn't cure their problems, but it opened their vocabulary and ability to discuss solutions rather than dissolve this wonderful union and life they had over the simple matter of sex.

Mike stood as I reminisced over Jeanine's bosom, her chest heaved as my tongue encircled her nipple, drawing a light line of my saliva. My audible grunt as Mike grabbed my hips and forced himself inside of me signaled my move to Jeanine's unattended nipple. Her long fingers went down to her muff and she began fingering herself as Mike's ramming charge up my waiting ass caused me to lurch into her erect nipples.

Jeanine pivoted herself a bit as Mike pulled me on to his large erection repeatedly, away from her breast, and her hand went to my limp penis, she always liked to fondle it, to run her fingernails over my missing parts, perhaps to attempt to make it hard or just to acknowledge that it was no longer useful. Her other hand firmly maneuvered my head between her legs to work on her clitoris with my adeptly trained tongue.

“Like having a real man's dick up inside of you boy?” Mike asked, gasping over my back as I was forced repeatedly into his wife's pubes. This question was immediately followed by an intense thrust that brought an affirmative moan out of my mouth and into Jeanine's vagina. “I thought so...”

He so enjoyed fucking me. I would often wonder if his handprints would remain around my waist long after he was gone. Then again, he'd removed my remaining testicle long before my puberty completely ended and I maintained that figure somewhere between a tall man and a gangly teenager, my hips were good handholds. My prostate, that's what Mike called it, had shrunken and almost disappeared long ago, the swelling within me that I occassionally remembered and the clear fluid no longer flowed from that shrunken organ. But I did feel his loose hot skin pass through my spincter forcefully with each thrust. Jeanine's grabbing my penis also sent interesting sensations through my body as I moaned into her pussy with each of Mike's thrusts. It never got hard anymore, but it still sent electrical signals to my nipples and down my back, right to the very hole that Mike pummeled with his tool. It was as close to orgasm as I cared feel anymore. I accepted it as my new erogeonous sensation and was in bliss.

It was Jeanine's breathing, her hard pulling on my limp dick and her insistent switching from nipple to nipple that told me she was getting close, Mike had a way to go. At first, eating Jeanine had not been my interest, but I had grown accustomed to her fluids and to her closeness and worked my tongue with renewed vigor. Mike's speed increased which helped increased my jerking motion against her muff., within moments her fluid flowed and her noise increased, her orgasm was always intense and I was jealous that I hadn't ever had one of her kind for myself. Mike said that what I used to have in those first few months after my castration were relatively similar.

Jeanine pushed me away from licking away her fluids as Mike pulled me back on his cock ever deeper. I yelped, not because it hurt – my anus was too experienced for him to hurt me anymore, I yelped because he liked me to yelp on occasion and I tried to remain spontaneous for him.

“You like that, my neutered little boy, don't you.” he whispered hashly in my ear.

“Yes, yes, sir, please let me have what I can't give anymore.” I said between his thrusts which almost caused me to stutter.

“You want my seed? You want me to impregnate you?” he said as he bit my ear. It was the last thing I needed to set off the fireworks - my body produced, the electrical shock of his teeth and his tongue sliding along the trapped area of my ear in his mouth made me gasp.

“Fuck me Mike, fuck me.” I whispered through gritted teeth. With that he impaled me on his cock and I felt it lurch within me, his hot fluid filling me. He stood on the side of the bed, my legs bent slightly out in front of me as my weight took his cock fully to the hilt and his teeth tightened on my ear.

In seconds he had me back on my hands and knees as he lay exhausted across my back, his hand wrapping around my slim waist fondling the little thing that started this morning's excitement for him, still limp and unresponsive.

The rattling of the paper took me from my reverie as Mike's cock slid out of my wet hole. He pulled his hand around and wiped his cum that had exited with his cock on the skin from the entrance to my love chute down across the bottom of my little prick. I looked up at Jeanine who had propped herself up against the pillows and was fanning herself with the paper.

“Wow Honey, you never cease to amaze me.” she said with sweat glistening on her forehead. “Mike, you keep wasting that stuff you've got and you'll run out sooner than later, Jesus where do you get the supply?”

I often wondered myself where Mike had the capacity to continually fuck with abandon and cum in bucketloads, some of which was attempting to dribble out of my spasming orifice.

“Don't know,” he grunted in his usual fashion, “Thanks Honey he said slapping my soft cheeks and kissing me on the ear that he hadn't bitten, causing my hole to spasm yet again.

“As always Master, happy to help.” I answered straightening my doublet and shirt and moving around him off of the bed. He moved as well to make it towards his bathroom.

I moved to the end of the bed and put the required amount of sugar in Mike's coffee.

“Come here honey...” Jeanine intoned. She liked me to lay beside her for a while after orgasm and while she read the paper. I brought a pastry with me and lay next to her on the bed. She stroked my hair as I read the paper with her, as always the Wallstreet section. “You know that Mark is coming home today right?” she asked.

My heart lurched in my chest at hearing his name. He was four years older than me and strong, muscular, furry, and gay. He wasn't gay in any nelly way, but was the epitome of a businessman and a gentleman. In fact, he wasn't obviously gay to those not in the know, and those in the know were few and far between as Mark never felt it important to be gay 24/7. I knew I loved him, his parents knew I loved him, he – well, we weren't sure about him. With everything I did openly for his parents the situation was a little difficult to say the least.

When Mark had first heard about me he was livid. He couldn't believe that his parents would take some boy, younger than himself, from the street. When his father castrated me he was afraid to show up at home for a few years. But now, nine years after I had been plucked from the bowels of New York and rescued by the sexually permissive couple, he had come to grips with his previous reticence. I had tried my best to be the proper servant around the house when he finally adjusted to what he knew.

* * *

It had been on one particular night about three years ago, I was summoned to his room by him under some false pretense. He immediately told me to sit on the edge of his bed and quickly reached between my legs to feel what had been done.

“I can't believe that you let this happen to you...” he trailed off, his hands gently caressing my limp member, “I can't believe my father would ask you to give up your...” he trailed off again.

“No, it's alright...” I stammered as my heart raced. I was sure his hands were making me hard, I could feel his hands making me hard, but it was in my mind. “I wanted your father to do it, I needed it...”

“No one needs... this.” he stood quickly and almost forgetting to let go of my little dick.

“You may not understand, Sir, but I..”

“Don't call me Sir.” he stated, abruplty interrupting me, “I'm not your master.”

“Sorry... M.. Mark. I feel you should understand.”

“What's there to understand?” he asked, seeming irate, “What's so big about being a eunuch?”

“I wanted it, I asked him to do it, I was there through the entire procedure, he asked me multiple times as he was doing it and asked me for weeks before he did it. I wanted my current condition.” I stated as calmly and clearly I could, not sure if I believed myself, it had all seemed very quick and very long ago, “I'm happier now.”

“How? How could any man be happier now?” he asked pacing the part of the room we were in near his bed.

“Well, for one, I don't have the insistent urges that make me lose my control or concentration. I don't need to fuck something to feel happy, or be fucked by someone to feel happy.”

“But, your dick, it's useless.”

“Not entirely, I do feel things from it...”

“Yes, but to get hard, to feel it in your hand at least...”

“Sometimes I miss that, sometimes I want to feel my prostate surge just before blowing that wad that we all become accustomed to. But there are other orgasms, and other joys, and well...”

“Well what?” he turned suddenly...

“Well, I am submissive, my parents kicked me out because I'm gay, and because of what they caught me doing with that other boy. I can please my partner more if my own urgencies are satisfied by my partner.”

“But, what of when you are alone?” he asked, a curious tone in his voice...

“When I am alone I have no need of masturbation or self-stimulation, I can concentrate on what's important in my life instead of what's tenting my sheets.”

“Sometimes it's nice to tent the sheets and spend a few moments with yourself, it's a wonderful way to center and enter into new concentration.” he stated as if arguing a court case before a jury.

“You're a stockbrocker, not a lawyer... Different strokes for different strokes, no pun intended.”

“Yeah, but I thought of law...” he said, a slight smile.

“Mark, I want this, I need this, I love this.” I said lifting my kilt and indicating my limp member. “I wanted this long before I met your Dad and shortly after I realized I wanted boys.”

“But you don't want to be a woman?” he asked, staring at my shaved crotch, my small veined noodle, and my open legs.

“Who needs to be a woman when we've got all the same nerves and connections they do?” I lied in my question. I most certainly did not have his mother's orgasms and I didn't think we had the same orgasm at all.

“Really? You can cum?” he asked...

“No, not with any fluid, but I do have some spasms and all the electrical shocks a young queerboy could ever require.” I asked, feeling his eyes on me, hearing his tone level out.

We didn't have sex that night. He did touch me again, while I held up my kilt for him. The lights were on and he gave me what felt like a full physical. His finger pushed inside of me and he felt for my prostate, which was still evident back then. His touch had made my dick bounce, a sensation I hadn't had in years.

We did, eventually, have sex. But only one day when he came down to the Rec Room to see what kind of “toys” his father had installed down there. It is true that the proclivities of the father can pass to the son. Mark was into bondage and domination as well, but he wasn't into delivering pain like his father sometimes (and I do mean rarely) enjoyed.

I had been showing him the sling when he asked me to undress and to show how his father liked me in it. It has a two position sling, and his mother liked me in the other position, but that wasn't part of this situation with him. Before long I was laying in the comfortable leather and he was asking about the restraints. He gently lifted my legs into the high stirrups and I told him about the handcuffs which he retreived and commenced applying to me. I was trussed where I'd been trussed multiple times and was at his whim, which wasn't a bad position for me as I was now beginning to realize how I felt about my Master and Mistresses son.

It was then that he began to undress and I had the sight of his penis, which he definitely got from his father, but had managed to improve upon. He got out the blindfold and said that he'd been reading some things and wanted me to help him work on them. I thought he meant some porn stories or some S&M novels. I discovered later that he'd been reading up on rediscovering erogeonous zones in women who had either had hysterectomies or were post-menopausal. He read up on the conditions associated with castrated men and figured that by mixing the two together he might be able to give me an orgasm.

That night, while his mouth wrapped my semi-rigid cock – something he had managed to work up through massage and manipulation, with a vibrating dildo working my innards I finally learned why his Mom made such noise when she came. He said no fluid pulsed out of me but he could feel my penis pulsing in his mouth to time with my quickened heartbeat.

It was immediately after that, while I lay in rapture, glistening in sweat that he took me for the first time and showed what masterful control he had over his own cock. His seed filled me and I wished that I could carry a child for him. I had such intense feelings of love and concern for him.

I'm not entirely sure why I never told the woman stroking my hair as we read the paper, and I was hoping that she'd attribute my racing heart to the buttreaming her husband had just conducted on me. I was in anticipation of more of those orgasms which Mark had brought with his every visit to our home since that first time.

* * *

It is important to note that I was rescued by Mike and Jeanine. You already know that my parents kicked me out of our Vermont home when they caught me with one of my neighbor buddies, his six-incher buried inside of me in the garage of our house. My then seven-incher pulsing out my cream on our garage floor.

Nowadays people assume that those from Vermont are more liberal, and they probably are – however my parents weren't one of those. My father had stormed into the garage and ripped Kevin away from my pulsing asshole as he had been unloading himself into me and tossed him naked into the snow outside of the door that I had let him in. My father then proceeded, with the nearest two-by-four at hand to whip me while my pants were still down. I was pretty sure he'd broken a few of my ribs before he cracked me right between the legs with his only remarkable golf shot ever.

He'd told my mother to pack some things for me, threw my dishevled and still half-clothed body in the back seat of our old Ford, drove me out a few miles and tossed me on the side of the road. He gave me a quick kick and a “faggot” before leaving me broken and bleeding.

The Police of the town that I had been dropped in picked me up and delivered me to the hospital. I had been right, broke two ribs, ruptured my spleen and one testicle, lacerations abound. They'd figured I was some runaway that'd tried to hustle for money and was raped and beaten. Handing me my bill for many thousands more than a fifteen-year-old could afford the Police returned to escort me out of town. I never heard what was the result of their call to my parents, or if they had called my parents, I don't remember telling them that I was from the next town either.

Somehow I landed in New York, with 50,000 other abandoned gay teenagers, both girls and boys. I'd tried the shelters, dealt with the first few rapes and robberies and decided to forge it with a few other teenagers. My sixteenth birthday had gone by on a random day that I couldn't remember, someone reminded me two weeks later that I'd turned sixteen.

I had found that hustling gave me more money than can-recycling or dumpster-diving. My boyish body and tall looks had given the pederasts much to look at. But I'd never built a comfort level with prostitution. I'd had only about four regular johns and a few irregular ones when a cab picked me up and took me to one of the many Hilton Hotels in the city. That is where I met Michael.

Our first interaction had not been much different than the one relayed to you. Doggie style, with no wife – though I had noticed the ring on the finger as he virtually raped me. Of all the johns, some who'd only paid my $20 for “services”, Michael handed me two hundred dollar bills and asked if I'd be in the same area for a while. I told him I'd had no intention to move from that area.

Six weeks later another cab was sent to pick me up and take me to the same Hilton, two days later I went back to my friends with $500. Another month went by and I spent another two days with Michael and returned with another $500.

After a while though I decided that I wouldn't hustle anymore because I'd found a steady boyfriend in the troupe I lived with. His name was Richard and he was a bit older than I, yet still sixteen. The sensations I felt the first time I penetrated him were absolutely remarkable. In our old abandoned bus, all nine of us together, I took him in the wee hours of the morning. Our lovemaking was clumsy and rather unremarkable. I came inside him after only a few thrusts, only to find that he'd stained his bedroll with his own seed just as I pushed into him. He'd been a virgin. But I had no one else to love me, and he'd no one to love him, so we covered for each other.

Richard and our troupe of vagabonds made the good rounds of the trash cans, and they would ask me when my mysterious john would send another cab for me. I'd given up on giving myself to others as Richard and I had spent hours talking about our relationship and how we wanted it to be exclusive. Eventually he'd gotten over his virgin stage and I'd gotten over mine and we would pump at each other quite often. He was a bottom and couldn't keep it up to fuck me, but we shared a lot of semen between the both of us.

Funny, now that I think of it, we seemed to have fucked with abandon as we were never concerned with our troupe seeing us, or being watched by them. He was a sweetheart.

Halfway through my sixteenth year, and about five months into Richard's and my teen-enpassioned love we were out in the center of Manhattan bumming for change. These mean guys showed up, ready for a fight, coming out of a cab not far behind us on the street. Maybe they weren't mean, maybe my memory of them has made them appear mean. In any case, as they passed us one seemed to recall the need to tip the driver and turned, hurling a couple bucks in the direction of the open window of the cab. The cab took off at the same time that the money hit the side and fell to the pavement.

Richard was up like a cracked whip and on his way to the curb. Grabbing the cash he turned to me, his obviously jewish features looking a little worse for wear but still cute in the smog-filled air as a smile crossed his lips. His lips moved, “food” they seemed to say, but the blare of the horn covered the wonderful sound of his voice.

I sat there, watching him jump for the few dollars that would be useless to me now, I sat and watched his lithe body bend for the change, and his toothy smile come to me as he reached his goal. Those memories stay with me, vivd, yesterday, present all the time. What I can't quite recall are the details from just before the car hit him to after the coroner left.

I can't quite recall what happened for a while after that. I remember it had been early spring when Richard died. It was early Fall in New York when the taxicab found me again, this time Michael was in it.

He'd asked a lot of questions as it seemed to be about a year since we last saw each other. I, even then, was unable to answer much. My heart had been crushed and the, then, love-of-my-life had been annihilated in front of me. I suppose it was some sort of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that had caused me to lose the ability to function. I did wank as often as always, remembering myself inside of Richard's various orifices unleashing my pent up load. In fact, masturbation seemed the only respite from the hell that was going through my mind.

Becoming an orphan-my parent's kicking me out, having injuries from the one man that is always supposed to love me, ending up in New York and finding no help from the authorities in Vermont that took me to the hospital, being raped, mugged, homeless and hungry; having to turn to prostitution and having your every moment shared amongst nine people. I suppose I was due for a bit of a mental breakdown.

Michael had taken me back to yet another of New York's finest Hiltons and was on the phone to his wife. I don't know what they said, or what transpired. But I remember being cleaned, trimmed, dressed in fine clothes and the next day – with no sex involved – being taken by Michael to the airport and getting a first class seat to Chicago.

In Chicago we boarded a commuter train through the urban sprawl to a remote station where Michael trundled me into the back of his Jaguar. Driving for another hour we ended up in this picturesque township and to the front doorstep of a mental facility.

I spent my seventeenth birthday, though I don't remember it either, in Haven's Home for Children. Haven was a nice place, and the Doctors there never questioned my relationship with Michael or how I ended up there in the first place.

It was Richard's death that spilled my mind over the edge of care. I was effectively trying to commit the slowest suicide possible by wasting away to nothing. When he died I was just over 140 pounds, now at Haven I was clearly under 100 pounds. Diet and psychology were Haven's gift to me through Michael.

I was eventually released from Haven, though I had no idea where. I was told to wait for the good doctor and it was Michael who came through the door. I was wearing the clothes he had bought me in New York and looking rather dapper when I noticed his wife entering the building as well. Jeanine was resplendent in her simplicity, I was awed by her looks and her body and found she'd captivated me long before I ever first realized it.

I was also scared to death. Did this woman have any idea that her husband and I had... well, y'know? I mean, what was my role here? Was I to play the good son, the poor homeless kid? And how could a secret like Michael shoving his cock in me on more than one occasion – and I assumed at that moment in the past – quiet around her?

I was first introduced to the mansion, hidden in a secretive valley and covered in a thick blanket of snow, that evening. Dinner was served easily enough, Jeanine had cooked it and we ate it. Niceties were said and a bed was provided to me.

Michael showed up about an hour after all the lights had appeared to go out. He didn't say much of anything, as was his custom, and stroked me under the sheets. I was terrified, of sex, of remembering the past, of thinking of New York, and of the strange place and people I suddenly found myself with. My penis, however, did not seem terrified and rose to meet Michael's gentle brushing over my sheet-covered body.

His other hand found it's way under the sheets to my raging hard-on and with the warmth of his hand I realized that another human hadn't touched me in over nine months. My hips lurched as my cock began, for the first time ever, flowing pre-cum. Involuntarily a moan escaped my lips. Months of silent sex in the back of an abandoned schoolbus in the homeless ghettos of New York were lost in an instant.

He never, and has never, sucked my dick. In some strange part of the human psyche, Michael is not gay and never has been. He is, in fact, a – if you'll excuse the phrase – wannabe womanizer. He's actually madly in love with Jeanine and would not cheat on her. But as some heterosexual men do, Michael has always felt that sex with other men is not cheating with his wife. But Michael has only had sex with one person other than his wife.

A boy, you see, has the features of a barely-pubescent girl, or so I've come to understand. I never grew into my height, meaning that I've always been skinny and just at six feet tall. I was late to puberty, but early to height, which lent me a swimmer's build for all of my few high school days. I was only waiting to reach the point of testosterone infusion to gain the muscle given to most men.

At the time he was grabbing my cock, in the room next to their own, I was only seventeen and had the hips of a girl. The advantage of sleeping with a boy like me was that one was aware, by my precum and engorged penis, that what you were doing to me was mutually agreeable and that I wasn't faking the orgasm as I heard some girls and women are occasionally prone to do.

I was definitely enjoying his attentions at that moment. Even if he never went down on me, he enjoyed “eating me out” as he'd say. That would give me the female gender as, to him, I had a boy-pussy for his enjoyment. I had cleaned myself thoroughly as it was the first shower I'd had in a while without witnesses – the Haven facilities had group showers.

Michael was probing my hole with his tongue and slapping my cheeks with one hand, while using my own pre-cum to lube my swollen eight-incher.

“You have a big dick for one so slight.” he stated, in the muffled fashion as my other-cheeks were very close to his own cheeks.

I only mumbled in response as his heated tongue once again made it to my ever-tightening sphincter. Strangely, tears formed on my closed lids out of joy of being touched again and melancholy of the last memories of being touched. Still, it was his touching that had me fall over the edge, the rumbling in my mind was catastrophic, even if there was no rumbling involved in the rest of the universe.

A high arc of cum hit me on the chest as my bellow showed the extent of the rumbling in my mind, it was joined by two more shots, with less noise, and a steady stream that coursed over Michael's hands.

In the throes of afterglow Michael stood, pulling me to the edge of the tall bed and lubed his large uncut cock with the sperm on his hands and some on my chest. “Ever get your own cum in you?” he asked with a smile as my hole yielded to his large tool and he slid rapidly into me.

I was not accustomed to having further intercourse after having just had an orgasm and my prostate spasmed painfully against the intrusion. I voiced some muted angst against his entry and he grabbed my hips, pulling me inexorably on his engorged hardon. As he plowed me, however, my prostate stopped protesting and started responding yet again. Months of no attention and months of nothing but attention gave my cock, testicle, and prostate the impetus to regain their sensitive state.

I had my hands out on the sheets, trying to keep myself on the bed as I was sure he was trying to pull me off, my gangly pale legs up over his tanned and slightly furred chest bounced each time his pelvis met with my boy-hole. His hands moved up to my lower rib cage and I could feel him pulling me up to ride on his cock full force, apparently his burying it to the hilt as he was – wasn't good enough. I clambered up as best I could, my flexibility being tested as my shoulders met kneecaps and my hands went about his neck.

He ploughed me constantly for over fifteen minutes as my cock rubbed on the fur going to his belly-button. My tears came again as he slowed a bit and impaled me, unleashing ropes of hot cream into my rectum. He laid me gently down on the bed on my back, and as he withdrew I shot my second load of the evening envisioning his cum, mingling with my cum that he'd used to make his entrance into my boy-pussy.

“Well, he's definitely into it?” a voice said from the doorway. I jerked suddenly, spinning over putting my cum-covered chest on the crisp white sheets provided for me. “Oh, now that's going to stain.” she mentioned, coming from the darkness of the doorway and entering the limited light of the room.

It was the first time I had ever seen a woman naked. If she had me captivated at her simple dress earlier in the day, her perfect body had me even more. I had no idea that I had the capacity to be bisexual. My cock certainly, in it's dried-up state, gave no indication. But my mind was working over her body and over the situation.

It struck me that she must have been standing there since shortly before or after my first orgasm and had watched her husband impale me on his rigid cock, she had watched me have my second orgasm.

Either my embarassment was evident, or my fear at being the insturment with that her husband just used to cheat on her was evident because her response was calming “Don't you worry yourself, I've seen boys cum before.” She never indicated to me that any of them had been with her husband, but later I learned that I was the only one.

She sat on the end of the bed, her nakedness apparent to me, but not really of any concern to either of them. She looked at her husband's wilting member as he walked towards her and kissed her pationately. I was dumbstruck...

“Tasty, is he?” she asked, her eyebrow arcing.

“Mm, yes, definitely worth a sampling, though I'm sure he's pretty spent at the moment.” he responded, caressing her ample breasts.

She took him into the bathroom adjoining my room and started the water for him to shower. Within a few seconds his head came into my view and was silhouetted in front of the light coming from the bathroom.

“Are you going to shower Honey or do you want to stick to the sheets in the morning?” he asked.

Hesitatingly, and with great curiosity, I rose to enter the bathroom where both of these people, over twice my age, were showering naked. I stood clumsily by the curtain of the shower stall until Jeanine's hand brought me inexorably into the spray with them.

She had finished soaping up her husband and had spent a good deal of time soaping his cock back up to rigidity, though she wouldn't let him use it on her or again on me. I was thankful as my legs were still a little overstretched and none-too-stable at the moment and in this circumstance.

As I got wet she began with those marvelous hands of hers, to caress my back and she found every tense spot in my body, which was suprisingly limited considering the circumstances. Of course, I was tense when I went in the shower, but her seeming acceptance of her – what I then thought was gay – husband and his underage lover relaxed me a bit futher.

Her hands explored my body and found their way, rib by rib, down my chest to my tight and skinny belly. I felt her nails go through the light fur above my suddenly interested cock and she gave it a few strokes as well.

“My, what a big pecker you have for one so small...” she remarked with wide eyes as she stroked it to almost-full erection... She then caressed under it and found my silky scrotum remarking on the single testicle contained within. When I attempted to answer she only stuck a soapy finger across my lips as she felt back to my rather-stretched pucker and eventually pushed her way into my ass, the soap on her fingers mixing with her husband's fluids and the few fluids that I'd contributed to his entry.

It was the first time that a woman had ever touched me, let alone fondled me, and I found myself liking it. A single drop of precum beaded at the head of my penis, but chose to go no further as she withdrew her finger after giving me a thorough prostate exam.

* * *

Of course, I'm sure you are quite interested on how the transition from almost eighteen-years-old with eight-inches went to twenty-seven-year-old Eunuch. I assure you, as I look back, that it was all rather rapid.

As I had told Steven, I had always been interested in castration. I was happy to be with Richard and to top him, but I was a bottom myself with the ability to penetrate another. That Michael was interested in my boyishness, and that I was late to puberty, and that I could not stand the thought of getting hairy like him or another man was the impetus for my question to him one night as he and I lay in afterglow.

Jeanine had been gone to some charity conference and political convention for about a week, for that week I was Michael's bum-boy and stayed with him in their bed. It had been about six months after I'd first arrived at their house. His hand was caressing my backside as I lay on my stomach not wanting to spill even a drop of what he'd given me earlier.

“Mike,” I began hesitatingly, hoping that his after-glow would contain the shock of the subject I wanted to bring up with him, “you're a doctor right?”

“Well yes, Honey, you know that.” he rumbled marvelling as his hands covered my smooth boyish bubble-cheeks with his warmth.

“You're a surgeon or are you a doctor?” I asked tremulously.

“I'm a surgeon, but I do see patients before a procedure.” he asked as his warm hands made it to the small of my back again.

By this time it had been explained to me about their trip a year and a half ago to the island sexual retreat that they had and that he wasn't gay. I had also discovered Jeanine's desire to have me to herself on occasion as well, but we can get to that later.

“You like me the way that I am, I like me the way I am...” I paused, trying to discern the best way to broach the subject.

“Oh, yes, of course.” he said breathing heavily as his hand made it up to my ribs, rubbing those fine points of stress that always seem to accumulate in the muscles there.

“I'd kind of like to stay this way forever.” I said, pausing... Seeing if his mind would fill in the blanks of what I was so afraid to say.

“Wouldn't that be nice.” he sighed, his hands continuing on those muscles, no indication of his understanding the direction I wanted to conversation to go in.

“Would having one testicle stop the inevitible?” I lead him...

“No, one testicle makes up for two.” he said dreamily.

“How can I stop the changes caused by testosterone?” I asked, beginning to shake internally, years of pent up desire trying to burst out but frustrated by the slow pace of the conversation. Seconds had passed since the discussion was begun and my body was impatient to have it over with and out in the open.

“Well, there are chemicals that'd do the trick, but I don't know anything about those.” he mused.

“What would do the trick that you do know about?” I asked trying to sound innocently curious.

“Hmm, there's removal of the offending organ.” he thought as his hand stilled on my back.

“You mean castration?” I asked trying to lift myself up on my elbows to look at him, but thwarted by the weight of his hand holding me down.

“Yes, castration would do it, but it's a permanenent step.” he stated, sounding as though he were slipping into slumber.

“How long would it take to do something like that?” I asked. The insistence on ending this conversation where I wanted it to end was becoming evident in my voice.

His tone changed as he tried to move carefully, “Why do you ask Honey?”

I rolled over to face him and suddenly noticed his erection that he'd been trying to stop me from seeing or sensing. A smile crossed my lips. “Mike, I want to be castrated,” that being said I began to stammer, “for nights like this, for many reasons, and for many years, it isn't something I just came up with tonight.”

The conversation continued for over an hour after that, and for the first time I noticed Mike's precum. I'd never seen him with the issue of precum before, but he'd started shortly after I turned over.

A little later he mounted me again, this time with me on my back and him holding my two hands above my head as he essentially raped me, well it was consensual rape. He asked me, as he thrust brutally into me if I wanted to be his eunuch, not letting me touch myself he questioned me with each thrust. At each thrust I got harder and harder and for one of the first times came before he did.

It didn't happen overnight, in fact, it didn't happen that season. But by the time we reached our one-year anniversary of my moving into the house we'd made plans to do the procedure. He wanted Jeanine's consent as she enjoyed me in certain ways and we didn't want her to stop enjoying me because I was flaccid. After it'd been explained to her and after she thought about it she did consent, it wasn't like I'd ever been used to penetrate her and our play wasn't about my erection anyway.

We had a “boy's night out” of sorts, and friends who knew of our circumstances, mostly other wealthy people with similar “toys” were in attendance. There's something about a public castration that always fascinated me and Mike was an exhibitionist with his skill and his sexual prowess anyway. It wasn't the first or last time we “entertained” amongst friends, or I had consensually “entertained” their friends. There was a large culture of people who'd grown from the sexual island retreat, much like wealthy swingers, and we'd had many parties and had travelled to a couple different places during that first year and many places since.

The Rec Room had been converted a while before I ever showed up and it was in the Rec Room that our group went on the night in question. There were men like Mike, not gay, but with their toys, and there were wealthy gay men with harems, but only one or two toys were allowed – those I'd befriended or become accustomed to.

After an evening of attending to our “masters” and participating with our friends, and us “toys” participating with each other I was accompanied by Mike to the sling and was put up for display and fondling. Sex was going on around me, and while none of this was planned, the occasion merited some sexual experiences, as Mike and I had already expected as well as experienced. One of the “Toys” from the Los Angeles area, an African-American similar in age to myself, dropped the strap holding my head and immediately shoved his raging hard-on into my mouth. This was unplanned, but by this point in the evening I was well on to my sexual high.

I felt Mike prepping my genitals for the procedure and I felt a few pin-pricks as he numbed the region with some injection or another. He was talking amongst his peers, proud that his “Toy” was doing this deed, and that he was the one taking my manhood. I was filled with a sexual euphoria of sorts as my nostrils were filled with the musky scent of the groin of the “Toy” who was called Ben.

Someone asked Ben to let me enjoy my unmanning as Ben responded that he wanted to face-fuck me as I was unmanned. Mike asked him to pull out for a minute and asked me if that was alright. As I said, I was a bit high on the sexual euphoria and, while this little part was unplanned, I indicated that I was alright with it. I was under the impression that I could take Ben's load long before Mike took my remaining testicle. Ben promptly re-inserted himself and Mike explained the procedure to those watching from the other side as I was laid helpless in the sling.

“We all love our Toys,” he was saying as Ben's balls once again slapped into my nose, “and I don't want Honey to be hurting, so we're using this numbing agent.” he said indicating some bottle that I was otherwise too occupied to view.

“Taste my seed boy, it'll be the last you feel as a man.” Ben whispered to me as I felt my cock hardening.

“...then you gently massage the testicle, or testicles, down to the bottom of the sack...” Mike continued.

I was having a bit of trouble breathing, in truth Ben was pretty large. Not so large that it caused me to have such difficulties, but a life-changing event was going on, that I wanted to go on for some time. Mike's hands were caressing my sack, though I wasn't totally aware of that as I was of the tugging sensation on my skin in the region, my dick bounced to a full eight inches at that point.

“Oh yeah bitch,” Ben sighed, watching me grow, “get that nut off before he gets that nut off” his hands moved to the back of my head to hold it still for his face-fucking.

“...you pinch the sac very hard at the base and watch to see any reaction from the patient...” Mike was saying in his explanatory fashion to his friends. I got not chance to answer as Ben's penis was fully in my throat at that point, but my lack of reaction told him that I couldn't feel his actions. He got silent and I knew he was picking up the scalpel and didn't want me to get concerned.

“Oh, he's cutting your sac boy” Ben whispered as he pulled slightly out of me, maneuvering my head so I could look up in his eyes. While Mike was being loving in his procedure, Ben was loving telling me the details. In truth, neither bothered me, I knew what was happening.

“You tie off both cords, but not before getting them both out as far as you can...” Mike intoned as I felt a tugging that I could never have conceived of before in my lower abdomen.

“Your nut is out of the sac bitch, and he's pulling your cords to make sure there's nuthin' for you to work with later.” Ben said sliding deeply in to me, I could feel him get thicker and longer with each thrust and each pronouncement.

“Some use a grouping of staples, I prefer sutures.” Mike said with the snipping of scissors, telling me that he had already tied off both cords, a low simple-burn feeling started in my abdomen, to replace the tugging sensation from earlier. I was about as hard as I'd ever been at that point.

“Heating the scalpel lends itself to cauterizing the veins and Vas Deferens” Mike was saying as Ben thrust and grunted.

“Cutting the cords is a simple matter of.... swiping the heated blade through them.” At which point I did feel a bit of sensation and grunted as my last wad flew from my penis.

“Enjoy that feeling Eunuch, it's your last.” Ben said as he thrust deeply against me, cutting off my air and filling my throat with his cum, grunting over me as he shot into me.

Mike cleaned up the area and, to my surprise, after some suturing used a super-glue like substance. Then he applied a few layers of another product called “new skin” to the region, there were no bandages as he stood and, with the taste of Ben still in my mouth, I noticed his tented Dockers and the slight moist spot at the tip of the tent.

“Go ahead, please, take me.” I asked, pleading. Tears stained my face a bit, by joy or by euphoria I suppose I'll never know.

His pants were off in moments and I was satisfied by his rapid entry and his gripping on to me. With testosterone in my system I returned to hardness rapidly and came a few more times that evening as I, the new and only eunuch, was taken by more than one of the Masters and Toys.

* * *

Worry not about Ben, I heard that a little over a year later his manhood was taken by his Master, some at his own desire and some under threat of loss of the life he had grown accustomed to. I saw him a few years later, I suppose since it wasn't his idea it didn't sit to well with him. His Master kept him on as staff after discerning that Ben's desire for sex was influenced by his castration.

My desire for sex was influenced as well, but in a change, not in a loss. As I said earlier, I had become paternal or maternal to my charges and to their occassional friends. At some point my mind felt that I was assisting them in their release of pent up desires, helping them concentrate on what was keeping all of us in our manner that we'd all grown accustomed. I suppose, being a bum boy by choice, one has to rationalize it somehow.

Jeanine was impressed by Mike's work, as I discovered she'd never seen it before. I suppose the wife of a surgeon doesn't have much right to visit the patient after a procedure. She would run her fingernail along the small scar that had developed, and in the month proceeding my castration it got the expected reaction out of me.

For the only time I had ever seen her do such, she gave a blowjob, and it was on me. Mike was caressing my cheeks as she slathered me up with her tongue. Besides Richard I had never had a blowjob and somehow I knew this would be my last erection ever and it made me even harder. Not as hard as the night I was nutted, but all the same, without touching myself I was at my full eight inches.

“Have you ever had a woman Honey?” she peered at me above my throbbing cock.

I was in a bit of shock at her question as I had never seen her take one inside of her, let alone giving head, but I indicated in the negative.

She lifted herself up and laid back across the bed, “Just think of a boy's hole.” she said opening her clit to indicate she wanted me to fuck her.

In my shocked state I walked towards her and positioned myself on the edge of the bed between her legs, entering her gently. Her ministration had lubed me up rather well and I entered without difficulty, thoughts came back to me that I hadn't entertained in almost two years of entering Robert, but knowing it was a woman made it a little easier emotionally. Physically it made it more difficult and before much longer I was beginning to go limp inside her.

“Mike,” she breathed softly feeling my cock slide within her, weaker with each thrust, “we're going to need some help.”

I had been working on him a little earlier and he was watching with a bit of fascination as I entered his love and did what only he had done. He stepped in behind me and inserted a finger up my ass.

“It's a nice boy pussy.” he breathed into my ear as I felt his finger replaced with his uncut cock. Within seconds he was deeply inside of me, pushing me deeper inside of Jeanine, all three of us ended up horizontally on the bed, I was fucking Jeanine and Mike was fucking me into her.

“Imagine, your last orgasm inside me.” Jeanine smiled up at me as I grunted into her with Mike's force. “Fear not Honey, I won't become pregnant.” Which, I suppose was a point not worth mentioning as we were all aware of my circumstances, however it made me lurch within her and, indeed, I had my last orgasm deep inside her as Mike plowed me and joined me in orgasm only moments later.

I'm not entirely sure that Jeanine reached orgasm that night, but I'm pretty sure that escapade was for my benefit. As I said, it was the last time I had an orgasm, and feeling her muscles massaging my member was the last orgasmic thrust I had. I slipped out of her after a bit, spent. Mike slid out of me, spent. That night we fell asleep in each other's arms tussled in our nakedness on the bed.

* * *

As I recall, the next day I did have somewhat of my morning erection, diminished from prior times. The days rolled by and I spent time doing my other household duties, noticing the changes. Especially noting the hot flashes. At times I feared igniting the curtains I worked near just by my heated moments.

Within a week I noticed that I was less than half-hard in the mornings now, and that my interest in sex was diminishing too. Well, not so much my interest in intimacy, but the focus towards my own orgasm faded almost completely. One cannot forget the joys of orgasm so rapidly and to this day I still remember them, though I'm not so concerned with having or not having them.

Less than three months after my castration I fondled myself in the morning, looking for any reaction as I'd noticed no morning erection. I must have spent half an hour attempting to reach erection. There was an element of panic about my activities, not believing entirely that I could have made such a life-changing choice in a matter of weeks. When erection was unattainable I felt the beginnings of my first heavy mood swing, depression at “what had been done to me” made me bitter and angry.

I was mad, moody, depressed, and a bit panicy. What had I done? Why had I allowed this to happen to me? I wanted an orgasm, I wanted a boyfriend and a real life! Who would have me after Mike and Jeanine were through with me? No one would want an impotent boy for their bedmate. What could I do in bed that would ever please my partner? I was nothing more than a hole to entertain a real man, never to feel the same kind of erection that was forcing its way inside me – never to feel the explosion that caused that was the end result of the lust that had caused the real man to force his way into me.

I never had answers to those questions, but Michael had noticed my mood and had apparently prepared for it. With herbal remedies my moods became more regulated. I had asked, no begged, for him to unman me and now I had what I wanted. In my regulated moods I returned to happiness in my eunuch state.

Truth is, in all of us, we have bad states and times when we look back and ask why we made such choices when we did. But as I returned to my norm, and everyone returns to theirs, we all know that things are as they should be. If they aren't, sitting around fretting over them won't change them.

I was happy to be a eunuch. Upon restoration to my then-normal mood, I watched the changes in my body. I was very careful of my diet, my intent was to stay as an adolescent, having a late puberty helped with that, my swimmer's build remained though I found at times I had to keep a very close look at what I was eating. I was six feet tall and an inch or so, I had a virtually hairless body, I had shaved my pubes at the time of the castration and now I had a light downy dusting of hair at my crotch not unlike Jeanine's fine hairs at hers.

In truth I had always been a grower and not a shower. For years, in Vermont, I saw my small penis just before erection as absolutely beautiful. Having no erections does shrink what you do have, I suppose the skin gets used elsewhere, the amount of wear I had at my boy pussy, I wouldn't have been surprised if my body chose to use it elsewhere. My penis looked no different, in truth, to when I would notice it without erection, small and soft. It didn't shrink inside of me like what I heard had happened to Ben, though I'm told he gained some weight after his castration. My scrotum did disappear after a time, though Mike and Jeanine's tugging at it should have kept it out there, but before long a soft velvety patch of skin with a tiny scar was all that remained. I was in love with my new look and happier than I could have ever suspected. Though, in truth, it was my old look restored and permanent that was exactly what I wanted.

Not all the sexual escapades involved Mike, Jeanine had her uses for me, training me to become the perfect cunt-licker that I did become. There were times when neither Mike nor Jeanine were involved, but a house-guest that was in need was serviced by me. I was asked At all times I was asked if I wished to participate and at most times I did. There were times in the sling with Mike on one end of me and other men at the other, there were times when I was “tied up” by one or more of the women and treated to a delicious torture before satisfying all of them.

I already told you of Ben's castration, though I wasn't there to witness it or see him afterwards. When I did see Ben he was their driver and getting somewhat portly. Michael shared with his Masters the herbal solution to my prior mood swings. While I was the first castration, I wasn't the last. Something in my choice opened up the gates for others who wished to have Eunuch Toys or Toys who did wish, like myself, to become Eunuch. Michael was the surgeon of the group and he teamed with Trevor who was the psychologist of the group and they would interview potential candidates. Of course, not being a medical interest, none of the procedures were carried out in medical circumstances, though some were much more private than mine were.

I was working with Michael in his office one day when he received a call from a Master in Atlanta who not only wished to speak with him, but with me, regarding his Toy, Steven. Steven, it seemed, was very much like me in that he had begged to be castrated. Trevor became involved and eventually, after a few months, the procedure was planned. For reasons unbeknownst to me they decided to do the procedure in my same position, in the sling in our Rec Room, with the same grouping as I had chosen. Instead of flying to the “job” and doing to procedure, Steven wanted it done somewhere special so that when they visited in the future it would always be a special treat.

When I first saw Steven I had to be convinced that he was over sixteen years old. He was beautiful, a similar swimmer's build, and extraordinarily bright. Obviously gay, the soon-to-be Eunuch asked to spend a few days with me prior to the procedure, which I happily agreed to do.

It had been over two years since my castration, I was around twenty at the time, but I looked younger than Steven. But I was used to my face and used to my age, so it never occurred to me that others might think I was younger than eighteen when I was castrated.

As I said, Steven was a beautiful and bright boy. Of course, I thought him as such, in a paternal way because he was “trapped” by his desire to get off, as my mind had come to think of it. We walked the grounds, he watched me while I conducted my duties on the property, we rode horseback together, and enjoyed each other's company.

For the first time ever I had a guest in my room. His viewing of my flaccid penis was one of adoration and desire, not to take me but to be like me. We spoke until the wee hours of the morning that first night and I was relieved of my duties the next day to continue my discussions with him. Mostly, we stayed in the room that next day and he fondled my unworking parts profusely and saw me bathe.

As such things occur it was not long before I got to fondle his then-working parts and get them up to where they normally go in those of you who still have your orbs. I licked him, touched him, spread his cheeks so that my tongue could invade, he produced a dildo which I fucked him with and watched him cum as I forced it into him with one hand while fondling his nipples with the other. I even used my hips to force it in him like I was actually the one doing the deed, but that was later in the day.

There is something to be said by young boys fucking, it's clumsy – as I mentioned before about Robert, and Steven didn't have much in the way of a penis, compared to what I had experienced since joining his particular household. But like mine, his penis looked absolutely beautiful in its flaccid state. Which, sadly, was a difficult state to keep it in.

He penetrated me twice in that day and the next and I took him orally four times in those two days. He would speak, just before his pencil-like six incher would spasm across my tongue with his juices, in his southern drawl about the day he and I could fondle each other without erection or orgasm, how we could fuck each other with our dildos, and fondle each other, and kiss.

In that, there were many reminders of being in love, and I had grown out of my melancholy over Richards's death and had grown accustomed to my state with my herbal regularity. But something he said as his cum dribbled onto my tongue must have impacted me somewhere and a kernal of love began to grow for this boy unleashing what could be his last seed into me.

I decided in those last few hours before he was unmanned, or un-boyed as the case may have been, to try to talk him out of it. Visions filled my mind of he and I living in a Georgia shack, him fucking me with his smallish penis, and I servicing him and his friends. But telling him the worst-case-scenarios could not dissuade him, he had seen to much of my life and had too much of my body not to want his castration. Though I had hoped, in his knowing what may happen, to make his decision more educated. It did not change his decision and it was as the sun went down that his two masters, my Mike, Trevor and his “Toys” went down to the Rec Room.

I should interject here, a vocabulary had built up around those of us “Toys” who had been castrated and those of us who hadn't. In fact, those of us without our testicles anymore were calling ourselves “Boys” and letting the “Toys” have all the fun with that phrase. I was the only “Boy” in the room with Trevor's two “Toys” and Steven and his two Masters.

After having fun, and taking a few loads from “Toys” and “Masters” Steven was guided to the sling, which he almost jumped into. He asked me to come to him and release the strap holding his head, it appeared that he wanted to emulate my castration almost directly. I was straddling his head, watching his raging hard on, as Mike begain the injections that would numb the region.

Steven had decided to have his scrotum removed, and while this was a bit more difficult for Michael to accomplish, it was what Trevor agreed should be done. Strangely, as I stared at Steven's genitals to watch the procedure that I had only had the opportunity to experience before Steven began to lick the remainders of my scrotum.

Tingling was what I felt at first, I suppose the height of my arousal at that point, Michael says that I still had most of my prostate at that point anyway, and Steven's tongue was very good. Steven's two masters stood one at each of his shoulders, touching me and touching him as his tongue moistened my empty sac.

Unlike my procedure, Mike didn't talk. My procedure was the first and Mike no longer felt explanations were necessary as, by now, he'd done this five times. It was all well and good with Steven as he wanted to know what his mind was telling him, not what he was hearing. Not that he could hear much, as with each increasing tingle my legs tightened against his ears.

He shifted from my sac to my boy-hole and began licking, nipping, and running teeth around as I'd done to him. My wry thought was that he was a quick study, as I'd had the impression he didn't know what he was doing earlier. His tongue pierced my hole and gently fucked me as Mike made the first incision in the base of his scrotum.

My cock should have grown to my old raging eight-inch erection at that point, my mind was surely telling me it had done so, despite the chemical illogic of such a though. I looked down to see my dick, quirked down and moving when Steven's chin allowed him to do so. Not unusually, back then, it was drooling a little with his ministrations and my viewing. He grunted a little as Mike forced the first testicle out of the small incision in his scrotum, and grunted harder when the second one was freed.

Steven's two masters stroked him, instructing him to eat me out good and telling him he was a good boy. Eyes were evident around the room as Trevor and his “Toys” watched, one twenty-something guy and one late-teen girl all naked and aroused and playing with Trevor's chest hair as they watched.

Michael tugged out the two orbs as Steven switched his attention again and sucked down my limp member. I was surprised at his actions, but knowing that I had done the same to him, only to see him get hard yet again earlier in the day.

A good seven inches of cord came out of Steven as he groaned around my flaccid member when Michael reached the end of the cords. Two sutures each, one to the blood vessel and one to the Vas Deferens of each testicle, very high up the seven-inch line. Steven's cock bounced and pre-cum flowed to his belly as each suture was secured and re-secured on the life-giving lines, he groaned again at the snip of the scissors.

“Are you ready my boy?” asked one of Steven's Masters and he responded by nodding his head while holding my dick in his mouth. With that Michael severed all four lines forever removing his orbs from him and dropped them in a small bucked beneath the sling that I hadn't noticed before.

I must have drained Steven thoroughly earlier as he didn't have an orgasm upon nutting, but bit down a bit on my penis and jerked a bit as the four cords slid back up inside him.

Michael grabbed a few more instruments as one of Stevens Masters moved down and inserted a butt plug up Steven's bum, the other Master thanking him for his service to them and thanking him for being their “Boy”. Michael's quick work with the scalpel had Steven's scrotum in the bucket on top of the severed bluish testicles that I had fixated on and I turned up to see him joining the remains of Steven's scrotum back together with sutures.

Immediately after the sutures Michael applied the superglue and the new swin product and put his hand on Steven's abdomen, “There you go Boy...” was all he said as Steven sucked in my penis and his last sperm slid from his wilting penis. I bent down to lick it up and suck him in as he continued to cum, hoping that he would have none of the ill effects that had temporarily befallen me or interefered with Ben.

As I lay there across his chest, with my limp dick in his mouth many years made useless, and felt his soon-to-be useless member slide from my lips I thought of what I felt for him and what the future held for us both.

His hands grasped my calves as one of his Masters moved to pierce me with his raging cock. I took it and the cock of Steven's other Master as he looked up from below with my dick in his mouth. He didn't get hard again then, nor did he get hard ever again as we shared numerous occassions with each other and our respective Masters and Mistresses.

His first inclination, a week after his castration, as I hovered over Jeanine's orgasming vagina was of distaste. I was strangely embarassed by my actions with her in front of Steven with Michael inside me in the ever-famous doggie-style position while Steven watched us all. But he did become accustomed to seeing me with women as he stayed often, and not just for the three weeks to recuperate after his castration.

Strangely, he never did get hard again. It was as if he was always a eunuch, as I thought I was, and he never suffered from the hot flashes. Still, Jeanine and Michael thought it cute that he and I enjoyed sharing my bed whenever he was free on his own visits. On our trips down to Atlanta for one adventure or another I was always requested by Steven and his Masters to stay with him in his bed. They marveled and smiled at the love that their “Boys” shared for each other.

Steven's penis, being just like mine, never really shrank. When it was limp it was limp, as was mine. But that always looked the same as when they were limp during the time they accompanied our testicles, his penis never retracted into his body. I enjoyed my time with him, mentoring him – as the case may be – in the life of a eunuch. He'd call on some occassions to ask questions about one thing or another, about his prostate, or about the best way to please his Masters.

I had never had a gay Master, so I wasn't quite sure what to tell him, but our friendship and mutual love grew over the years and when all the “Toys” or “Boys” were together it was remarked upon that we were like a couple.

This was all very interesting as I thought about Mark, about how I felt for him and how he made me feel, and his relationship to the two people who used my services more than anyone else. It took him a long time to adjust to having a eunuch house-boy that he enjoyed using when he could. We never spoke of his father or mother or what I did with them, other than in the fashion of a normal servant.

It was later in that day, the one I initially began speaking of – I know I've rambled on and on here for many a page with my story – that Michael finally arrived in the lttle sportster that he drove from his Chicago Apartment in. He pulled his father into the study as soon as arrived and they closed the door. I took his bags up to his rooms and ventured back down to the hall in front of the study as they opened the doors, Michael looking at me concernedly as they called me into the room.

TO BE CONTINUED