Ayzintion City - The Wrong Balls
By: Nathan

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[BI] [TESTICLES] [MINOR]

This story forms yet another tale in the series that has come to be known at Ayzintion City. While it is a series, any of the stories can be read in any order, and each stands alone in their own right.  This particular tales deals with a particular castration that doesn't go quite as planned.   It is an adult erotic story, and is not be posted where minors are likly to see it.  It is totally fictional, and the characters exists only in my mnd.    The story is not to be copied or posted elsewhere without the author's written permission to do so.   As a final comment, feedback is appreciated and critisim is accepted and appreciated when warranted.    Read it if you enjoy it, but don't feel compelled to do so.

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This story forms yet another tale in the series that has come to be known at Ayzintion City. The series is written in such a way that it doesn’t really matter which story you read first, yet even so, they all form the tale and they are all written about the same, magical place that is found only in my mind. As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.

It was the wrong set of balls, from the very beginning, and I don't know to this day why the master didn't see it that way. I just have never thought unmanning a boy, before he was well into puberty, was proper and its not something I believe in doing. I had seen the boy in the bath, and his balls were small, acorns really, and had only barely begun to elongate within his sac. They were delicate, small, and tender, and while the potential was there it had not yet been fulfilled. His sac was hairless, too, although there was a little bush above his prickle, so it had started. Cutting out his stones just didn't seem proper, and so that is why I guess I was not into the chore and perhaps that is why my mind didn't think it all out as it should should have. I misjudged things plain and simple, and so that is perhaps the root of the mistake. I don't know anymore, and it all happened long enough ago now that it's hard to say where exactly I let it go wrong. I'm ahead of myself though, way ahead, and to tell the tale I need to start at the beginning.

Of course it was a mistake, but at the time I didn't see it that way, and the way it was presented it just seemed almost trivial and I never really saw it as anything else until the deed was done. It all happened four years ago, and enough time has passed by now that I can tell the tale and share it with you without getting too emotional. Still, it's a hell of a memory, and every day when I see that boy I can't help but cringe from it. Mistakes happen though, and that's just the way life is. Some injustices in life happen too, and unfortunately you can't always make things happen the way you would want and sometimes the wrong balls end up being sliced with the knife. For a slave boy he's doing all right now, that much is certainly true, and in some ways perhaps things for him are going very well indeed and he certainly seems contented that much I know. But four years ago when it all happened things were different, and I made the mistake and its something I know and can't forget. It started of course when the master mentioned that he wanted him nutted, which I took as an afterthought as we dined on breakfast. There wasn't anything pressing in how he said it or even in the way he worded the request. But, I was not expecting the comment, and it surprised me. The Slavic boy was just fourteen, and was a little late in his push to manhood. In fact, he was just beginning to make the trip, and taking his stones from his bag just didn't seem sensible or proper. At least, it didn't to me.

I have been an employee of the master of the house for more years than the boy is old, and it is my task to tend the affairs of the house and to keep the servants in line when it is required. That was true then and it is true now. As for the slaves, when it is warranted or the master requests it, I whip them, or chastise them as the case may be. I even cut them, if the master dictates that and it his whim. I was hired by the master many years ago, and since that time I have grown a friendship over the years that runs deep, and he trusts my skills and has made me his foreman. On almost every occasion he has had me cut one of his slaves, I have done the job right and he has been well pleased with how it has gone. I learned the trade on another plantation where my father had me working when I was in my late teens. I suppose I have always had an interest in watching a set of balls be stolen, and there is something about it that is exciting in ways I cannot adequately describe.

I still remember the first time, when I helped nut a young lad from the Northern province. He was nineteen, and strong as a bull. I remember him to this day, how the cutter invited me to cup his bag of stones and hold them, feeling the essence of his manhood as he pulled hard against the ropes and struggled with a desperation unlike anything else on earth. That was the first time I held a full scrotum, just before it was emptied, and I'll never forget the feeling of power I felt then. I remember how hard he pulled and struggled when he felt me holding his balls. The cutter had instructed me to feel each stone, separately, and to fondle them within their sac and to discover how the cords lay there. I remember squeezing them, and watching the boy's reaction as I did that, and it was intriguing to wield that much power over another human being.

God he struggled. In the end his struggles were wasted of course. I was there when his scrotum was opened and his oval egg-shaped nuts were lifted out from his sac one after the other. I had never been so excited about anything in my life. I remember how he had spilled his seed as he was unmanned, and I remember watching his last load of spunk spurting out onto his belly as the knife did its work. When the cutter handed me that boy's newly severed balls, warm and quivering, and I felt them in my hand as I looked at the lad's spunk pooled there and wasted, I knew then and there that it was something I would have to learn to do myself later in life. From that moment on all I could think about was cutting a man and stealing his stones, and I knew then I would have to do whatever was necessary to make that possible. Luckily, it was that same day, and that same time, that I took the interest of the cutter, and he took me in and taught me his trade.

I learned the process well over the months that followed. I was taught how the knife must be sharpened just so, the edge heated until it just begins to glow. I was taught to keep the table clean, and to make the proper cinch knot to tie the balls. It's imperative the string be tightened the right amount, and yet removed quickly when the deed is done. Otherwise, the empty bag will turn to gangrene and if that happens then usually it is all for nothing. I learned to remove each testicle separately, one after the other, keeping the slits in the scrotum small and popping the balls through them to be cut so that the healing is fast. There is a special trick when the cords are cut, and doing them one at a time and correctly is the key to making the operation a success. There is a lot to it of course, but I was trained well and my infection rates are very low. There is no doubt that the master is satisfied with my skills, and there has only been a few times when a scrotum I've opened did not have the results that satisfied him.

Still, it does not always go well, and it is the disasters that tend to be remembered. I've made a few mistakes over the years, although my biggest by far involved the one I made with the Slavic boy. But who could have known, or predicted it? I'm far from perfect, and I made a mistake, and the wrong balls got taken, at least as far as I'm concerned. Sometimes as I think back on the day and the hour when the master summoned me to stop working on the fence and walk the Slavic boy to the gelding table, my mind reels and I wish for a moment I could do it all over again. On that day I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I have to wonder how things might be different now if I had made other choices. Still, it was just a small mistake, and to others not directly involved even now I'm sure the final outcome does not seem significant. The master treats me the same, and he does not hold a grudge for my error. I still run things and serve as the foreman just like I always had. Yet, for me personally, the memory is crystal, and since there is a lesson there it is a tale worth telling. I still remember that breakfast most of all, when the decisions were made that started the train of things that have led me up to the present day and to my current circumstance. Who can really say how things come to be? I do know that the master and I understand one another now in ways that would otherwise never have been possible.

Yes, it all started as we shared that breakfast, as was our normal routine, I sipping my tea as I chatted with the master as he had chewed on his toasted bread. We were discussing a visiting friend that was due to arrive within two weeks, and he was giving me instructions on preparations that he wanted done around the house. This was no ordinary friend, and the master wanted the house perfect for his arrival. One of the most pressing chores was a fence that needing mending. He also wanted the inner garden planted so there would be spring flowers blooming by his arrival. The hardwood floors needed to be re-varnished and then rubbed by hand until they shined, and the well where we drew the water needed work and the path to it needed to be laid with stones. There was a lot of things he wanted done, but his guest was a Councilmen from the city, and the master wanted to make sure it went well and he made a good impression. Discussing the things he wanted done during the day was a typical breakfast conversation, and once I had his instructions I would then normally organize the slaves and tend to them until things were finished as the master had directed. On this particular morning, without any warning, he had looked up at me after telling me the other things to do, and then out of the blue he remarked: "I don't know Hector, but I'm also going to need you to nut me a young one I think. I've am thinking of doing the Slavic boy, the one with the dark hair and black eyes, who seems to have taken a liking to you. I think he would fill the need for my friend nicely, and I have no doubt he's a virgin and his hole should be tight." Looking out the window, he added: "I need a boy for my friend and I don't want to disappoint a Councilman, and to me he would be the perfect one. My friend likes them young and I want to give him a good one for his bed while he is here."

I remember almost spilling my tea, and gasping as I took in his words. I really hated cutting any boy for some man's few nights of pleasure, and the Slavic boy he mentioned was the one slave I cared the most about. The entire idea was revolting, and it's such a waste too, and there is no point to it. Besides, he was way too young and his balls were just acorns in his sac. It was the wrong balls, plain and simple. However, the master controls his house and makes his decisions, and they are not typically suggestions. But I was not just a simple employee, and as his friend he confided in me and trusted me, so I figured that there was room for discussion and I didn't hesitate to start one.

If it had been any other slave kid, or the boy had been more developed, I probably would have just nutted him without question, along with the other chores he wanted done. But the main problem of course was that I liked the boy he had selected, and he was not one that I wanted to unman. Simply put, it was the wrong set of balls to take, and there were a lot better choices. Of course, what wasn’t in any doubt at all was that some boy would need to be cut if the master wanted a young hole for fucking, and knowing that I didn't question that it would have to be done. If the master's decision was to cut a boy and unman him, then I would have to do it, and on the whole that didn't bother me in the slightest. Some boys even deserve the knife, and more than a few are better for it. Still, the Slavic boy was not the one, and I started right away to steer the choice in a new direction. For an answer, I started out by agreeing that a Councilmen should have what he wants, and then I promised to look through the slaves and pick out the best one for his purposes.

Normally the master seeks my opinions, and likes my suggestions, and in the past he has often allowed me to make the choice and so I thought this would be acceptable. My mind thought through the list of young men, and I had several in mind that would be far better choices. I suggested one of the Hungarians, from the Eastern province, as we had more than a few to choose from and there was a wider range. There was one particular lad of fifteen who had been getting a little too smart for his own good lately, and I had already caught him talking to some of the housemaids in the last few days. Taking his balls would teach a lesson for the others, and would put him in his place and calm him at the same time.

Knowing that, I answered: "I think the Hungarian, the one called Peter, would be better, and he's got blond hair too and he is ripe for fucking. You know him--he's one of the boys that seems to be begging for it, the one with the big eyes and big smile that seems to be the interest of the women. And, he's young enough I would think; which should make him the perfect choice for your friend. With his fair hair and cute bubble-butt he looks even younger than the Slavic boy."

The master tore off a big piece of bread, and spooned out a large glob of warm butter from a tub on the table. He liked warm butter, and there was always plenty of it. Smearing it on the piece of bread, he took it into his mouth as he shook his head. Then, he chewed his bread and savored it, and I sat there in silence and waited for his reaction. Finally, he swallowed, and then he said "No....I think Hector that I want the Slavic. I don't want to wait either. We need to do him right away, so he is well healed when my friend mounts his hole." Taking another bite of buttered bread, he then said: "Take him to the barn this afternoon and nut him, and then when he is healed bring him to me. I want to feel his empty sac."

I stared. A cold chill ran down my spine. It was such a simple command. Of course, the Slavic boy was the one kid I fancied more than all the other slave boys combined. Still, he was just a slave boy, that much was true and the master owned him and could do with him as he pleased. But he had become a young friend, and he was the one boy I had spent many hours helping and the one boy I had plans for. In short, I had taken a liking to him, plain and simple, and I favored him in ways I did not favor the others. The boy liked me too, and he trusted me. In fact, over the past months I had grown to like him so much that I had expectations for him now that did not include cutting out his balls. The boy was growing strong, and he had been spending a lot of time at my side as I instructed him in the ways of the plantation. Of course, it never occurred to me that the master had seen me with the boy and did not approve of the relationship. No, that never occurred to me at all.

I tried to make a joke of it. "Ah, sir, that boy is no good for the bed. He's too young, and his bum is too tight. I doubt he's even spilled his seed yet. The Hungarian with the blond hair is better, and he would benefit from having his balls taken and his ass mounted."

The master swallowed another bite, and then looked straight at me. His smile disappeared, and he narrowed his eyes. Then he said: "Cut the Slavic Hector--TODAY. Do you understand me?"

I stared back, and my heart started pounding. I was on the edge, and my friendship was near its limit to make further requests. Still, I couldn't see myself cutting the boy. I didn't say anything for a minute or so, trying to find the right words. Then, slowly, carefully, I answered him: "Sire...we have been friends for a very long time. The boy...well, I do not think....that I....well, that I have the heart to do what it is that you ask. Please sir, let me do another."

He said nothing initially. Then, slowly, he spoke these words: "No Hector....you have allowed yourself to get too close to a slave boy, and the others have noticed. I'll tell you what. I want his balls, and my friend will have his ass. You WILL nut him. Have him strapped to the table when the lunch bell is rung, and then wait until I'm there. I think I want to watch you when you steal his stones. Yes, I want to see it when you do him. Now, good day Hector....it's time for you to stop thinking so much and to start the chores instead. There is a lot that has to be done and I think I want to finish my breakfast alone. You may leave."

I stood up, taking the cue. I was not sure how to respond, and I started to leave without saying anything. It was clear he was not in the mood and did not want me there. As I got to the door, I turned, and hesitated. I had to say something, as there was no way I could do what he asked. Not really thinking it out, I opened my mouth and carefully chose the words that I needed to say. "Sire...the boy......he means something to me--you are right about that. You and I are friends, and you have known me for many years. What you ask, I just cannot do. He's too young and his balls are too small. Hell, he's not even squirted yet. I cannot cut that boy. I cannot. If you want him cut, then you will have to find another cutter to do him. I'm sorry but that is just the way it is."

Then I left. I knew at the time I was probably pushing our friendship, but I had known the master of the house for many years, and our friendship ran deep and I was confident it would weather the rift. There was no way I could cut that boy, with his fine features and perfect, growing adolescent body. He was barely into puberty. I had known him too long, and grown too fond of him. I had nursed him when he was sick, and had dressed him when he was smaller. I had bought him gifts, and shared my thoughts and I had seen him in the bath on many occasions. Now he was just sprouting that first nest of hair above his prickle, and his smooth skin was still like a woman's, fine, with a flat stomach and tall legs that were perfectly muscled like they are on a growing boy whose on the edge of manhood. When he spoke his voice was starting to crack, and he was at that magic time when he would soon discover the sexual capabilities of his body. In many ways, to me he was like the son I never had. So, taking his balls was wrong, plain and simple, and I knew that it was just not something I could allow myself to do.

As a coincidence, just a few weeks before the boy and I had talked about eunuchs, and how I gelded them. He had asked so many questions, and I had tried to answer every one. I also of course had given him the assurance that it would never happen to him. I remember him smiling then, and I had tossed his hair and laughed at his worries. I made him a promise to let him watch the next gelding on the plantation, so he could see the procedure and watch a man's balls be taken. He had wanted to see that, and his own excitement at the prospect had reminded me of my own first time, and I remember thinking that I would let him hold the full scrotum and feel its stones before I made the cuts. I wondered if he would enjoy that feeling of power as much as I did when I first had the same opportunity.

What I think was bothering me the most was that in spite of what I had said to the master I knew I might still have to cut the boy. And, if I did not, it was likely someone else would. So, knowing that, now I wasn’t so sure if I could keep that promise I had made to the boy. But then again, the master usually listened to my opinions, so there a good possibility he might spare him. It was hard to see into the future and predict how it would go. I knew there was an even chance the master of the house would not change his mind and so I might yet be forced to do him or at least watch while it was done. And, if the boy was to be cut, I didn't want it done poorly and so in that since it would be better to do it myself.

After our conversation at breakfast things could go in one of several directions, but the master was a fair man and he rarely got angry for long. I didn't think he would try and hire a cutter from the city, as it would be very expensive and most cutters there are too busy to make private visits. There was the possibility he would have the boy taken to the city and cut there, and if he was determined enough I figured it might well be done that way. But it was a long journey from where we were now, and it would take time, and the cost would not be insignificant either. No, the master needed whatever boy he decided on to be done quickly so he could heal before his houseguest arrived. Time was on my side, and I was the foreman after all, and my words were not unimportant. The most important truth of the matter was that there was no one else on the plantation, or nearby, that had my skill and could do the deed. So the more I thought about it the more confident I became that the master would come to accept my words and we might even laugh about this later. This was the first time I had gone against his wishes, and yet our friendship was such that I did not feel I had been too disrespectful.

That said, I knew he wasn’t happy with me and there were things he could do to make me change my mind. My mind raced with the possibilities. As I had mentioned, he might look for another cutter, to replace me with, although there was no way he could find one today, that much was for sure, and by tomorrow he would be calmed down and we would work this out. Still, I knew that he might make me cut the boy and if he threatened to take my job or demanded it as an ultimatum then I knew I would have to do it. But from my perspective, that kid's balls were not the set to take, and there was a better than even likelihood that the master would see that too and come around to letting me choose one of the others like he had in the past. Once I did, he would accept the choice and be satisfied with it, that much I was pretty sure of Since it was only a young hole for a friend he wanted, I guessed that if I could delay things a little and find another one then that would solve things. It was something to hope for at any rate. I figured I would find out soon enough, and there was nothing to do at this point but to wait and see what transpired.

I decided to just do nothing for the moment and to get the other chores done instead. I put a group of slaves on the well, and another three digging up the soil and turning it for the garden. As for me, and the boy, I engrossed myself in the repairing of the fence. The Slavic boy was at my side, as usual, working in the hot sun and helping me to carry the timbers that made up the fence. As he worked, I couldn't help but look at him. He had his shirt off, and his back glistened in the hot son. There was a few tiny strands of hair starting to sprout under each armpit, and the down on his upper lip was darkening up a little. His chest was absolutely smooth, the way it is on a boy. He was cute as hell, and his tiny nipples were like points, his flat stomach ripped with horizontal lines. Nutting him would be a terrible injustice, and the more I looked at him the more I convinced myself it should not happen. I noticed he had just started to muscle up some, and over the next years if he kept his balls he would grow through puberty and firm up even more. He had the potential to be quite a man, with his dark hair and deep penetrating eyes that might even get him mounted to a woman when he was old enough. Looking at him, and his hard body which was oh-so-perfect, it just seemed obvious he was born to fill a woman with his seed.

As he worked in the sun he suspected nothing, and yet he was all I could think about. As the noon hour approached I knew I was supposed to be in the barn, preparing the table and sharpening my knives, but I could not bring myself to do it. How can you cut a boy like him? I think the boy knew something was on my mind though, and yet he had no idea what. But I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and when he was bending over and picking up the next rail for the fence my eyes would go to his ass. His tall thin legs came together there, and his bubble butt seemed to accentuate the virginity of his hol. The very idea of some man violating it for his pleasure was something I couldn't even fathom and my stomach turned with the thought.

I sent the boy for more iron spikes and was working the fence when the noon bell was rung, and I remember that I jumped when it started to ring. I tried to ignore it, and kept at the fence instead, knowing that this was not the time to eat. I figured if I could get the fence done early then it would please the master of the house, and perhaps that would satisfy him and he would be willing to listen to the things I had said. I was hoping that the master would think things through and not push the issue, and as the time past after the bell and I was not summoned I started to let my worries subside. I worked hard, and about the time I thought the boy should be back I saw him coming, only he did not have the bucket of nails in his hands that I had sent him to fetch.

As he approached, before I could chastise him he said this to me: "Sir, the Master wants you to bring me to the barn. He said that there is work for us there, and that is where he wants us now. I came as fast as I could because he has gone back there to wait for us and he has told me to hurry."

My heart sank. I stared at the boy, and my eyes went to the front of his pants and all my hopes for his future dashed in that second. I had to go of course, and to take the boy, and there was no doubt what would happen when I got to the barn. I would be forced to take his balls after all, and I knew now that it was over. I felt sick inside, but I knew there was no way to change what was to be now and it was obvious the master had not changed his mind. I know I was nervous, and the boy picked up on it, but he said nothing and instead waited for me to drop what I was doing and to follow him. Oh if only he knew!!!! His face was so damn innocent, and as I imagined what I would soon be doing, carving out his stones and stealing his manhood, I was sick with dread. I decided I would cut him fast, instead of prolonging it for my usual enjoyment the way I was often tempted to do. Yeah, I would empty his boy bag with two little quick cuts, taking his small stones out as quickly as I could.

I put my hand over his shoulder and then started to walk with him to the place of his undoing. As I did, I looked at the back of his head, and there was sweat there, running down the nape of his neck. His entire back was glistening in fact, and yet as I looked it did occur to me that he would no doubt sweat even more when he was tied out and I was taking his balls.

We walked in silence. I had tears in my eyes, and he kept glancing at me as we walked along quietly. Suddenly, he paused, and then he looked up at me and stared into my face. He noticed the wetness in my eyes. I saw his lip quiver, and then, with words that caught me by surprise, he said "Sir.....what is it? What is bothering you so?"

I looked at him, and I shook my head. I didn't have the words, and there was nothing to say. There wasn’t much in the barn, and every slave knew the table was there, and his eyes opened wide then as he figured it out. He gasp, and then he asked: "Are you going to hurt me? I...I don't want to be a eunuch!"

OH GOD! HE KNEW! I looked back to him, and then took my hand and put it to his face, touching him as I stared into his beautiful black eyes. I let my thumb rub the side of his smooth, downy cheek. I brushed it across the front of his upper lip, feeling the soft hairs there that had only just begun to sprout. Finally I said, "Sometimes we have little choice in the things that are to be. I do not always understand the master of the house, but if he tells me to take your stones then I will have to do it. I would hope that if it comes to that then you would understand. Try and be brave and do not fear it so. If I have to do it, I'll make it quick."

The boy said nothing. I could see it in his eyes, as he contemplated what I had said. He went on with me at that point, without another word, but I could sense that something had changed, and the smile was gone from his face. He was a smart boy, and very brave, and the more I looked at him as we walked toward the barn, the more I hated what it was that I was going to have to do. It was the only thing on my mind at that point, and I walked with dread.

When we entered the barn the master was there, waiting, along with several of the eunuch slaves. He was standing along the far wall, had been eating his noontime meal and there was the remains of some bread and cheese along with the usual bowl of warm butter next to it. The eunuchs all seemed to stare as we entered the room, and there appeared even to be an eagerness in their looks that is hard to describe. Their presence was not that unusual, as there is something about taking another male's balls that can excite a eunuch in ways others could never understand. I suppose they enjoy seeing what was done to them done to another, and in my experience usually their interest is keen and their eyes sparkle when they watch it happen. Obviously the word was already out, and they had come so as not to miss it. I guess there is entertainment in watching a gelding, as long as it is not your own balls being cut.

Of course, nothing was ready. The table had not been cleaned, the way I normally prepare it, and I could see my bag of knives still in their case on the top shelf near it. It had been a while since I had used it, and it was covered with a layer of dirt from sitting there for so long. They had yet to be honed on the stone, and it was obvious that none of the preparations had been made. The plantation's table is thick, with leather straps on the corners that have been there for a long time. They are well worn, and over the years the table has been put to use many times. I always wash it down with a strong lye soap, and scrub it with brushes until it gleams. But it had been a while since it had been used to nut a slave, and it was dirty now and the stains that normally are bleached out were black and visible.

The table had been there long before I had been on the plantation, and everyone was aware of its purposes. Most of the time it was used for whipping a disobedient slave, and more men and boys were whipped on it by far than were cut. Still, when the master desired it, it was used to geld them, and over the years it had unmanned so many that I don't think anyone had a count. Certainly all of the eunuchs in the room were nutted on it, and all of them had at one time been tied down to it and had struggled there as I stole their balls.

Sometimes we would bring them in for a whipping, and tie them face down to the table, with their ankles tied to the two legs and their arms stretched out over the table and secured to the other side. If the master called for it, then I would whip them hard. He liked the stripes to be made at an angle, and I would drive the whip and paint the disobedient slaves ass until it was cherry red. Sometimes I'd allow the whip to curve around and to catch their cock, or come up between their legs to strike their balls. I was good with the whip, and it was something to fear. Sometimes, after they were tied in place for a whipping, the master would change his mind and if he gave the word then I would geld them instead. It made no difference to me, and I usually just did it as the master dictated, and didn't give it much of a thought as I was doing so. For the older men that were cut, I would usually nut them in that position we tied them in for whipping, reaching up between their legs to open their bags and to take their stones from behind. That position worked well for older men, and it exposed their bag and their ass to close inspection before the cuts were made.

For simple geldings where the whip was not brought into play, the slave could be strapped to the table on his back if that was desired. For most young boys that was the preferred method, with the boy on his back and with his arms and legs pulled out to the corners. The table wasn't big enough to do a full grown man that way, so in that case his knees would be bent and would hang over the table, where they were tied apart. When a man was on his back it would work well only if the man's cock was hard and out of the way. Personally, I always thought it was less dignified to castrate a man on his back, because when his legs were tied out and spread wide it reminded me of a woman waiting to be fucked. Because of that, it was not the method I would use for the older slaves to be nutted. But for the boys, well, I almost always did the boys that way, because it gave me better access to their tender balls, and I could take my time as I opened their bags. Of course, having them exposed that way, made it possible for the people watching to see everything as it was done. It also allowed the boys to watch their own castrations as it was done to them. I thought for a boy that was usually a good thing, and it helped in most cases to make sure they remembered their place in life.

I stared at the table, and it seemed to be waiting. I decided right then to do the boy face down, as if he was a man. I didn't want to look at his face when I took his balls, and he deserved to have it done with as much dignity as possible.

I looked around the room. Kagis and Brandon were there, waiting to help, as they always were when a cutting was on the agenda. They are my primary assistants, and have helped me for so long that they are experts at it. For eunuchs, they are both huge men, still powerful and intimidating and very strong. Kagis has dark olive skin, from the western lands, and I still remember when I cut him as if it was yesterday. He was so strong then, stronger by a magnitude than he was now, and that is really saying something. On that day those many years ago his big fat pole had jutted hard, up between his legs, parallel to his belly as I had him bent over the table.

I remember his struggling, and he humped that edge of the table almost as if he was fucking it. When I pulled back on his sac and pushed the knife into his bag he had squirted for his last time, grunting out one of the biggest wads I've ever witnessed. It was all wasted though, spurted into the dirt under the table. I do remember it though pumping out of him as I started the knife and pushed it into his sac. Oh he had bucked so hard the entire table had shaken, and he had screamed into his gag as I unmanned him with a cry that I'll never forget. At the time I thought I had destroyed his soul, but he healed and before very long the things that had interested him were no longer important to him anymore. In the years since he has helped me geld many more slaves, and in fact it was his strength that had helped me when Brandon's turn came for the table.

Brandon was twenty-five when he came to the plantation, and right away he caused the master problems. He was a captured soldier from the Balkans, and he didn't like being a slave. Consequently, when he was first purchased he had not resolved himself to it and he was high spirited and refused to work unless he was whipped. He escaped again and again, trying to get back to some woman he had known before he was drafted into the army. He hadn't seen her in a very long time, and now captured and made into a slave he would never see her again. The third time he was caught and they dragged him back for yet another whipping I wasn't sure what we would do. I had all but given up and had even suggested we sell him and take our losses. But the master liked him, and he had me whip him one more time, especially hard and very thoroughly. I did; I whipped him so hard that his bare ass was striped with lines of red, and by the time I finished his bottom looked like raw hamburger. The master had watched his whipping that last time, and when it was over it was he that decided to do the rest. Just before I untied him the master stopped me, and told me to nut him first.

Oh I'll never forget the look on his face, and how his eyes had bulged out and how he had begged and grunted into his gag. I think I actually enjoyed nutting him, in a unique sort of way, and it was almost fun to unman him and to put him in his place. Now, some six years later, he has lost that spirit and fight that caused his problems, and now he just does what he is told and never shows any emotion. I think I broke his spirit when the master had me take his balls.

I'll never forget his fat sac though. That man had the biggest sac of balls I've ever opened. He had been a hell of a man, so strong and virile it had seemed a waste to cut him. But the master had wanted him calmed down and to forget a girl, and so I took his balls. He too didn't like getting his bag emptied, but it did calm him and after that he did his bidding without protest. He stopped trying to escape, and whatever woman had drawn his interest was no longer important to him. Now he's a good worker and does what he's told, and I've come to count on his help when I am tying down a slave and preparing him for what has to be done.

I turned my gaze from the two big eunuchs, and then looked up at the master. Before I could say anything he spoke to me: "Hector, why is this table not ready? I am not used to having my wishes ignored, and you have defied me in my own house. You hesitate to remove the stones I have told you to remove. What is so special about this boy's bag that would make you ignore what I told you to do?"

I stared at him, and swallowed. I glanced to the boy and of course he knew at this point he was about to be unmanned, and he was staring straight ahead, at the table, with his eyes glassed and wet with fear. Of course, as a servant in the house he knew his fate was in the hands of others and if the master wanted him gelded then he was smart enough to know it would happen. It was just the way it was, and it was something he had grown up with so it was not something he questioned, even when it meant he would be spreading his legs and feeling his balls be cut from his body.

I gave up, and knew I had to do him and resolved myself to doing it. Trying to explain my earlier disobedience, I said: "Sire....it was not that I was ignoring you. I only thought that the Hungarian lad would be better for your friend and I was trying to get you to understand....."

"PUT HIM ON THE TABLE!"

The master's voice was angry, and I gave up then with a shrug of my shoulders and turned to do what the master had instructed. I saw the two big eunuchs come forward to help me then, toward where the boy and I were standing. There wasn’t anything I could do to protect the boy at that point, and so I resolved to do him quick and to make it as painless as possible. The Slavic youth was terrified, and he turned and tried to back away, to somehow save himself from being unmanned. I sympathized, but it was time and the master's patience was clearly gone. Consequently, I reached to grab the boy and to take him to the table.

As I was doing that, Kagis reached out too, and grabbed my upper arm, and as I turned to him with a questioned look Brandon grabbed my right. I started to pull away, and the black sleeve of my shirt ripped, as I tried to jerk my arm free. Then I spun around and started to protest. What the hell????

"UNHAND ME YOU IDIOTS...WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

For an answer, they gripped me harder, and then started to pull me across the room. I turned to the master to get him to stop them, but when I caught his gaze of ice it scared me to the core. The master watched, with a look of concentration, but he said nothing and allowed things to continue. I started struggling then, to pull away until this could be sorted out, but they spun me around and started to drag me onto the gelding table -- backwards, as if I was a slave! I was looking away from it when they pulled me up and onto it, and as soon as I realized what they were doing I went absolutely ballistic. God I fought them then! Before I could say much else they jerked my wrists down to the corners of the table, and tightened the worn leather straps that secured them there, my arms spread. I was jerking like a wild man then, kicking with my feet and yelling at them to unhand me.

"REMOVE HIS PANTS!"

Shocked, I looked to the master, hardly believing what I had heard him say. This time I locked eyes with his cold stare that went straight then into my soul. I had never seen him so angry, his face red, and as I started to beg him I felt Brandon undo the rope around my trousers and then before I knew it I felt them being pulled down. I tried to bend my knees to prevent my pants from being taken, but soon enough they pulled them off and after that they were no longer mine. Naked below the waist, I screamed at them, scared in a way like I have never been scared, my feet flailing as everything that made me what I am was suddenly exposed and on display. By this time I was thinking he was going to whip me, to make an example out of my disobedience. In hindsight I don't know why I thought that, but the possibility of anything else being done to me just didn't enter my mind.

My own cock was not that big, and on that day it was just a nub poking out of my nest of hair as the fear gripped me. The eunuchs were smiling as they were tying me down, and the feeling of disbelief and helplessness cannot be adequately described. Just before they tied my ankles, the master said "WAIT.....GET THE PEG! I WANT HIM PEGGED TO THE TABLE WHEN HE'S CASTRATED!"

CASTRATED!!!! OH GOD! THEY WERE GOING TO CUT ME! They were, the master was going to have ME nutted! Hearing his words shocked me to the core. I think up until that moment I had figured it was some kind of joke, or perhaps he was going to give me a whipping. I don't know what I had been thinking really, but I know being nutted wasn't in my thoughts. I mean, I might have expected a warning or even the lash to teach me a lesson, but not with a knife and not my balls! I wasn't a slave for one thing, and he did not have the right to treat me like one. Suddenly, the fear gripped me in a way that cannot be described. Now that those words had been said and were hanging in the air it was crystal clear where things were heading. I screamed, like a madman, and started to protest: "No....OH FUCK...WAIT! NO! NO I SAY! I AM NOT A SLAVE DAMN IT....I AM NOT!!! YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT---OK--OK OK OK! LET ME GO!!!!! SHIT! I'M SORRY! I'LL CUT THE BOY DAMN IT!!!!! I'LL CUT HIM I SAID!"

I was staring at the master as I was begging, and he just jerked his head, nodding, to one of the slaves. The man grinned, and then as I watched he went to the drawer next to the table and retrieved one of the wooden pegs that are sometimes used to secure a man to the gelding table. They are used on many tables in the city, but I don't normally employ them myself, although they have their uses and if your purpose is to humiliate a man there is nothing better. Sometimes of course, that is desired. There is nothing more embarrassing for a man than to have a peg fucking his ass when his balls are being stolen.

The standard peg is a wooden rod, about ten inches in length and three-fourths of an inch thick, that is pushed into the slave's anus, piercing him like a wooden cock. Once it is in place, the other end of the peg is put into a hole in the table that is there for that purpose, which holds it upright at just the right angle, and that forces it to jut into the man tied over it. At that point, it prevents the slave from moving side to side, which helps make his unmanning go smoother than it might otherwise.

I started to yell again, to protest what was happening, and to make sure the master knew I was willing to cut the boy. I was trying to get him to listen to me, to understand I would do the kid, when Kagis pinched off my nose and jerked my head backwards, hard. I am certain now that the master had put him to it, but at the time I didn't see any signal and it caught me totally by surprise. When he pinched off my nose I started yelling at him, but as soon as I did he stuffed a dampened rag into my mouth, filling it, and shutting off my protests and turning my words to mumbles in the same instant. As he did that I was so scared words cannot describe it. As my yells were stifled, the master said to me: "I'm tired of listening to your excuses Hector. You had your opportunity to obey me and chose not to take it. You've spoken your last words as a man."

The two big eunuchs laughed then, together, and then they pulled my legs wide apart. I saw another eunuch hand Kagis the rod then, and he turned and started to push it towards my rectum. Nothing has ever been inside me, ever, and the very thought of it was abhorrent, and with the others there, watching, the prospect was too humiliating to contemplate. I was the foreman for God's sake! I panicked. My eyes were wide, staring at it, and I was shaking my head side to side. I don't believe in pegging a man I'm cutting, and so to have it done to me made it especially embarrassing. No, I never peg the men I nut, never, as it takes all of their dignity and the truth is that is isn't necessary. But they seemed to be determined to do it to me, and all I could do was to pinch my ass closed and stare in fear and jerk hard against the bonds that had outstretched my arms.

The master suddenly said "STOP......NOT THAT PEG! USE THE BIGGEST ONE. I WANT HIM TO FEEL THE ROD WHEN IT IS IN HIS ASS."

Brandon grinned, and Kagis laughed. Kagis let go of my right ankle and then he turned around and opened the drawer there, and extracted the biggest of the plugs. The one he grabbed had never been used, not in all the years since the table was built. It was a massive dowel, with a big end the size of a boy's fist, and it was more than a foot and a half in length. The entire rod was thick, and solid, and when they pushed it up against my hole I screamed into my gag. There was no way my ass could accommodate such a thing, and I knew that if they used it my hole would be stretched beyond its limits and there was a good chance it might even split. That didn't seem to stop them, and they pushed it up against me and tried to get it past my sphincter anyway. They pushed, and I grunted, my eyes wide. They pushed harder, and I screamed. Still, there was no way it would go into me, and I kicked with my free foot and slammed Kagis backwards with the hard jab.

Suddenly, watching in frustration, the master said:"Come on guys! That's the right peg, now lets get it in him. Grease it up with some butter, and then try again. I'm sure it will fit if it's well-lubed. Make sure you give it a twist and then push it as hard as you can. I want it in his ass when I nut him."

I stared at the master then, my eyes wide, begging. I still could not believe what was happening. I tried to fight them, and whenever one of the eunuchs would try to put the rod to my ass, he would let go of my ankle and I was able to kick and jerk. I was desperate to keep that thing out of me. I struggled for several minutes, with the master growing more and more impatient. Suddenly, he yelled out "YOU IDIOTS! TAKE HIS ANKLES FOR GOD'S SAKE...AND HOLD HIS LEGS APART, WIDE. NOW, LET THE BOY PUT THE PEG IN HIS ASS WHILE YOU KEEP HIS LEGS SPREAD!"

Suddenly, they handed the big fat pole to the Slavic boy, and when I saw the big dowel in the boy's small hands I shook my head and screamed into the rag. He couldn't do this to me! The boy had a look on his face I didn't understand, something between fear and excitement. As he came toward me with it in his hands I could not believe what he was doing. His eyes seemed to sparkle, and he didn't hesitate and just did what he was told without question. The pole was slick with butter, and before I could believe it, he was pushing the big end of it up against my tight hole as the big eunuchs held my legs so far apart it felt like they would pull me in half.

I threw my head back and screamed into the gag, and then I felt this feeling like no other feeling I've ever had. The boy twisted the buttered rod back and forth and then put all of his weight behind it. He pushed so fucking hard, and I banged my head back into the table, again and again as the pain in my ass seemed to just explode. Then, suddenly I screamed even louder into my gag as it popped past my ring of muscle. I almost felt like I was being skewered! It went in deep, very deep, and I thought it was going to spear my guts and come right out my mouth. GOD IT WAS DEEP IN MY ASS! It seemed to bottom out as it hit my prostate, and I arched my back and struggled in a panic. Both of the big eunuchs laughed as I did that, and they relished in my misery. My hole gripped the rod, and I know my face flushed red with the humiliation of it. I could hardly believe what the boy had done to me!

One of the eunuchs then took the base of the rod and pulled it down toward the table, which forced me to lift my ass to relieve the pain that was generated from what he was doing. He turned his hand, and the curved rod rotated within me, and I arched my back and literally thrusted my pelvis into the air, jutting my cock and balls high off the table, to accommodate the pressure. It felt like a giant cock was pushing into my guts. Soon he had the angle he desired, and once he did he dropped the peg in the hole in the table then, and after that it was in me, deep, fucking my hole without mercy as if my ass was a woman's pussy. I felt that rod jammed into me and it seemed to fill my soul. I had my feet bent and flat on the table, my back arched, trying to lift my ass off of the rod and to relieve the pressure on my prostate. It was a useless effort, and then, suddenly, they pulled my ankles down, hard, and secured them to the front legs of the table. In so doing they shoved that rod even deeper into my guts. I would not have believed the pain if I had not experienced it. Still, the strange part of it was that as they did that my own pole began to thicken, and then slowly as everyone stared at it my prick rose from up between my legs until it was standing tall, stiff and eager and dripping, and well off my balls. It almost seemed my cock was trying to get out of the way, to make it easier for them to castrate me. God!

I could still move up and down, to the extent the ropes would let me, but any movement to either side was impossible with that rod impaled within me. I was helpless, and my dick just went hard and stiff without control, and as I looked around the room in a panic everyone seemed excited to see me in such a state, spread eagled and impaled, my prick up high and with my balls hanging down all by themselves and oh-so-vulnerable. I was straining with every muscle in my body, trying to pull my knees together to protect what I had.

"TIE HIS KNEES....I WANT HIS KNEES WIDE APART SO I CAN GET TO HIS BALLS."

Two more ropes were placed around my knees, and then jerked hard, stretching my legs apart even more. It hurt like hell, and with that rod in my ass and my knees so wide apart now everything was exposed and I was totally helpless. I lay there then, feeling my ass being violated by the wooden rod, and knowing that they were really going to do it and my life as a man was about to end. The humiliation I felt right then was almost more than I could bear.

It was so unfair! For a moment, I allowed my thoughts to go to my woman, and her pussy that I loved to fuck. She was a hell of a lady, and she loved to do it often. She had way more stamina that I did, and we seemed to do it every chance we got and when we did the sex happened with an intensity and a desire that was all but rampant. She was hot as hell! What would she say to me once my balls were gone? Would she hang around, or dump me like a piece of garbage. Without my balls and with a limp noodle for a cock, I knew I would not hold her interest, and I was smart enough to accept what it is I cannot change. She hates eunuchs, and thinks they are worthless and a waste for society. There was no doubt she would be done with me once I had been nutted and as I thought of her and her tight cunt I wanted to cry. I don't know why I thought of her then, but I did, and as I pictured her pussy and thought of her tits, my cock got even harder and the end flared big.

As I was having these thoughts the master then slowly walked over to me. As he approached, he reached down to the bowl there and scooped up a big gob of butter in his fist, and then he just walked right up to me, so that he was standing right between my thighs. Our eyes met, and we stared at each other for a very long time. Then, slowly, very slowly it seemed, he reached out then and grabbled my throbbing rod in his buttered hand, and gripped my shaft then, working the butter into it as he slowly began to jack my slickened pole.

I grunted with the feeling. He was twisting his wrist and squeezing it as he jerked my rod, up and down, running his slick hand up and down my cock. I was soon as hard as I have ever been in my life. As he did that, he leaned over me, until his face was only inches from mine. Then, he said: "Hector....you sure have a hard cock now....very hard. You should never have disobeyed me. Never. Soon your hard prick will only be a memory. I know you have a girl Hector....what's she going to think when she finds out you disobeyed me and up and went and got yourself nutted? Seems a pretty stupid thing to me Hector. Pretty damn stupid. Well, it was your decision, so live with it. How does it feel having your cock jacked for the last time? Feel your boner Hector. It's very likely the very last erection you are ever going to have. I hope that you enjoy it. The memory is going to have to last you for the rest of your life."

I wanted to cry, and the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming then, watching him jack my boner and knowing as he was doing so he was about to take my balls. I stared at him, looking at me, and that's when he asked me: "So....tell me Hector....if I changed my mind and let you up, are you ready to do what I say and cut the boy now?"

OH GOD I WAS! I nodded my head up and down in desperation, letting him know that I had learned my lesson and I would castrate the boy as soon as he let me. I had made a mistake, and I was sorry for it! I grunted into my gag, trying to tell him I was ready, ready to nut anyone or anybody he asked me to and without question or discussion. Simply put, to me the boy's sac of acorns was no longer important.

Then, he grinned. And he said: "I bet you are! I BET YOU ARE! But you know Hector, I think you will be even more willing to empty the sacs I tell you to if your own balls are missing. That's what I think Hector. I think as a eunuch you will make a far better cutter than you have been, and I'm betting you will be much less likely to want my slave boys to keep their balls when I tell you to take them."

Then, turning to the young Slavic teenager, he asked: "What do you think boy? Do you want to trade places and let him empty your scrotum? You saw him nod his head. He's anxious to nut you now. What do you say to that idea? Are you ready to be castrated or do you want to watch him be the one to become the eunuch instead? What do you think boy? Go ahead, tell me."

The young teenager looked at him, and he looked scared. Really scared. He looked back to me, and then, slowly and very carefully, he answered: "Please sir...I want to grow up. I want to be a man. I don't want to lose my balls." Then, bravely, he looked right into the master's eyes and said "But....but if you want me a eunuch then of course it is your right to make it so."

The master laughed....really loudly, still working my cock meat up and down. Then he said "I like you boy. So, you want to keep your balls, do you? Well, I am starting to think that you might be worth keeping as a man. I like a boy that knows his place and doesn't question my authority. And who knows...perhaps Hector's girl would enjoy a young cock in her cunt."

Suddenly, the master grinned, and a few in the room giggled when he said those words. Then, staring at the Slavic boy as he continued to pump my rod, he said: "IS THAT A BONER IN YOUR PANTS? DO YOU HAVE A BONER BOY?"

The kid looked down then, at his own pants, and his face flushed red. Bright red. I hadn't taken notice but as I looked the boy's pants were clearly bulging out in the front, and it was obvious suddenly that he had sported a boner within his pants as he looked at my big cock and watched it being jacked.

The boy's cheeks blushed a brighter red, and his hands went to the bulge in his pants as he tried to cover the area. But the master said "Don't hide it boy! You're dick's tall and proud. Hell, take them off....take off your pants boy and let us see your cock. If your dick wants out of your pants that badly, let's not disappoint it. STRIP I SAY--NOW!!!!!"

The boy's face was beet red, like a ripe cherry, but he knew better than to hesitate to do as he was told. He pulled the rope to his pants, and then glanced around the room. All eyes were on him. I saw him swallow, and look down in shame, but then gathering up his nerve he grabbed the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down with a single, swift motion, and as he did his teenage cock bounced upward, slapping into his belly before settling down to about a sixty degree angle. I had never seen the boy with an erection and it was obvious he was very excited. It was a thin pole, about five inches in length, and yet it looked big on the small frame of the boy, growing up from the little tuft of hair above it. The boy's foreskin had retracted, so the purplish end of his cock was exposed, and it was glistening in the light. He was obviously well into the beginning of manhood, but he still had a way to go. I stared at him and his hard cock and as I looked it just quivered and bounced to his heartbeat.

I couldn’t' take my eyes off of his teenage dick. It occurred to me that even though it was thin and more of a boy's pole than a man's, his little rod was still rock hard, and unlike my own cock, it seemed now that there would be many more erections in his future than in mine. He was certainly excited watching me trussed out and waiting to be castrated, and I realized of course that it was his first time to ever see it be done. God....when I had made the promise to show him, I had never thought I would be showing him with my own legs spread!

His eyes stared at my pole, which was much thicker and longer than his own. Mine of course was slick with butter and was making a slurping sound as the master jacked it with increased speed. The feeling was building, and the sperm inside my balls was beginning to boil and to churn. As I was feeling this, I knew I was going to shoot my last load. I stared at his little boner with envy, and my eyes fell upon his full little scrotum. God I wanted to cut him then! Damn! It suddenly occurred to me that I was envious! Envious of a fucking teenager and the sexual life he would lead! Soon the pubescent boy would be far more of a man than I would ever be again and it was a terrible thought that seemed to consume my soul.

The master squeezed my cock, harder, and pumped it faster then, faster and faster as he stared into my eyes. I looked at him, and at his fist that was going up and down on my shaft in a blur. As I watched the feeling built and grew. I gasped, and my nostrils flared, and I knew I was about to ejaculate and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I was close, and he started to flick his thumb across the acorn of my dick head, working it in circles as he pumped me like a piston. I slammed my head back, as the feeling started to go, and it felt so damn good it cannot be adequately described. Then, suddenly, I arched my back and closed my eyes in anticipation of the feeling that was starting to overwhelm me...

At that precise second he STOPPED and then, he just let go of my cock.

I opened my eyes in disbelief, on the very verge of my orgasm. I looked down, at my rock hard pole, and it was twitching. For a second time seemed to stand still. The end of my dick seemed to expand, and I felt another little twitch deep inside of me, the initial spasmodic pulsation that seemed to hang on the edge. I stared at my cock, and a bead of white cream oozed out of the tip as I was looking at it. I bucked my hips, fucking the air in my frustration, and as the rod in my ass drove into my prostate it almost took me over the edge. But not quite, not quite, and so instead my cock twitched and the little bead of cream grew and anointed the tip until it glistened. Frustrated, I stared at my dick, wanting to feel the feeling and to shoot my load so fucking bad. Instead my dick just twitched and jerked and bobbed, the feeling of pleasure and closeness slowly giving way to utter and complete frustration.

He was grinning, and then he said: "Nah.....can't let you cum Hector....can't allow that. I'm not about to give you the big reward by jacking you off until you squirt. You don't deserve it, even if you were a friend. No...I am sorry, but that's not about to happen. Who knows, maybe you will shoot your wad when your balls are taken. You know better than I that a lot of men do that when they are nutted. Of course, it is not a very pleasurable way to cum I suppose, and I'd think the pain of the knife would more than offset any pleasure you would feel. I don't know of course, and I guess you will just have to wait and see what it is your dick decides to do for you. But as for me, you won't be getting any more pleasure from my hand."

As he said that, he turned to Brandon, and then he said "Hand me one of the gut strings. He looks anxious, and his cock is certainly ready. I think its time to tie his balls so we can get this done."

Brandon grinned, and reached to the side and opened the drawer where the leather ties are kept. They are supposed to be soaked in saline, and I've found that it's important to use a heavy concentration of salt in the brine. The infection rate is lower when the strings are soaked before they are used, and if they are tied wet when they dry they tighten up and they won't come untied. As I looked at the string of leather that was meant for me it was totally dry. I couldn't believe that they were going to use it that way. I screamed into the gag! They had no idea what they were doing, none of them, and I feared that if they used the dry string it would never hold the knot and if that happened then things would not go well for me.

The master took the string anyway, and started to loop it around my scrotum. My sac was pulled up tight against my body, my nuts drawn so far up that they were almost inside of me. I had the thought that the tie would never work with my balls so tight. Of course, he had caused my scrotum to pull up tight when he had jacked my cock to the brink of an orgasm, and by not tying me first it made it almost impossible now. It's strange as I think back on that hour, but I was actually worried that if he cinched that dry string of gut down on my sac the way it was it might well cut or crush a ball right in half. There was no way it would seal my bag, and if they opened it unsealed then I would likely bleed to death.

Brandon sensed it, and as he watched with a keen interest he said: "Sire....perhaps...if I may say, it would be better if you pulled his balls to the bottom of his sac before you bind his scrotum. Right now he's got them up and high in his sac, and I think to tie them properly they will need to be pulled to the bottom of his scrotum before the knot is made and the noose is closed."

I opened my eyes...staring, in disbelief. The fucking eunuch was telling him how to castrate me! The master grinned, and then he grasped my nuts, hard, squeezing his fingers into my scrotum so hard I screamed. I felt him pinching into my sac, grabbing one ball, and then the other, and then slowly pulling them down as he held them tight. I bucked my hips, and slammed my head back into the top of the table. GOD IT HURT! I struggled, and still he squeezed and pulled. I could feel him literally pulling downward on my two testicles, hard, stretching out the cords and pulling them away from my body. My eyes watered, and I grunted as I lived the feeling and felt the pain of it.

He was tugging down on my sac so damn hard, and it hurt so damn much I thought I was going to die. Brandon said: "That's it sir.....very nice....I guess he doesn’t like that much, but you are doing it right and I think his nuts are probably where you need them to be. Yes sir...I think he's ready to be noosed now."

Every eye was looking at my scrotum. The loop of leather was still loose around my sac, and so when he finally got my two testicles where he wanted them, stretched out in my sac, it was a simple matter for him to grab the ends of the tie and to pull them tight. I grunted, and the feeling then as he made the tie was more painful by far than I thought it would be. I have tied a lot of men and never gave it much of a thought, but it’s a lot different when it's your own balls being noosed. He jerked the knot closed; but he only used an overhand knot, and not the proper cinch knot of the trade. He had no idea what kind of knot is required, and so he just tied a double overhand knot and cinched that closed as best he could. Then, seeing that it had not cinched off my sac completely, he took one of the loose ends, and started to wrap it around and around and around the top of my scrotum. I bucked my hips and screamed, as he pulled the string as tight as he possibly could with each and every wrap.

That of course was working, although it made for a wide band of flesh that wasn't getting any blood nourishment. As he was cinching off my sac, he said: "I wish I knew how to tie your sac Hector...but I don't. Not like you. You're the best, and I know that. Of course, I'd ask you to do it now, but you look a little preoccupied at the moment and I'm not sure you could tie your own balls right. I might not have the knot perfect, but I'll still guarantee it is cinched off tight. I know you could do it better, and you've certainly had a lot more practice at it than I. It must seem strange to be on the other side of things I bet. How DOES it feel, to have your own balls noosed by another?"

He didn't really want an answer of course, as he left me gagged and seemed to enjoy just listening to me grunt. As he was talking to me he finished wrapping the loose end around the top of my scrotum. He pulled the cord tight with each wrap, and soon enough my nuts were cinched off, and after that there wasn't any blood flow to them at all. I could feel them start to burn right away, and from the look of satisfaction on the eunuch's faces I knew my nuts were turning the darker color they do when they have been tied tight. In a very real way my unmanning was in progress at that point, and the feeling of hopelessness was devastating. I didn't want to lose my balls!!!

The master then went to the drawer, and started to rummage for something. He said: "Where is the knife? Where does he keep his fucking gelding knife?"

I could see it, the green bag of knives on the top shelf, but they did not look up there and instead seemed to concentrate their efforts looking around the table and in the drawers. I don't know why that gave me hope, as there were lots of knives around the plantation. Being a cutter, and knowing the master had no skill, it occurred to me that he had no idea how to do it. I was really worried, because I figured if he made the slits and started digging for my balls with a knife not designed for that purpose he would likely rip up the contents of my scrotum as he dug them out. If that happened, then when the tie was released I'd almost certainly bleed badly and might even die. Nutting a man is not something that should be attempted by an amateur, and the master had no idea and no skills in that area. Knowing that, it intensified my fear a thousand times. An even worse fear was infection, because if the cuts are not done properly and the knife and the wound are not kept clean then for some reason it festers and things turn ugly. Not many survive the fever that follows. Knowing this, I was scared, and the fear ran through me in a primitive, primal way. I shook my head and begged and screamed, but none of them paid any heed and instead they seemed to relish my struggles.

Suddenly, the master almost yelled "Ah..HAH!!!!" As I looked up to where the master was he was holding an old kitchen knife, a butcher's knife, and when I saw the big fat rusted blade my first thought was that it would never work. It was far too unwieldy to open a sac, and the edge was anything but keen besides. Hell, there was rust on the blade for God's sake!!!! Seeing it, with its massive blade of steel, I started to shake my head in protest and I jerked my bonds so hard the table moved. The blade was more than a foot long! Just looking at it scared me to the core. There was no way a knife like that could be controlled, and it would not be possible to make the slits that were required to pop out the balls one after the other. He seemed to be oblivious to my concerns, and instead seemed satisfied with what he had found. GOD!

He held it up so I could get a good look at it, and my eyes went wide with fear. That made him grin, and then he said: "Well Hector...I know...its not the best knife for a gelding. But you seem to have hidden yours, and I think this will do the trick at any rate. Are you ready to become a eunuch?"

I shook my head side to side, my eyes wide, open and begging. I was staring at him, and the knife, and my big cock quivered and jerked and bobbed as I moved. My balls hurt so damn bad, noosed off the way they were, and yet as I bucked my hips and thrusted my groin up and down in my frustration and fear, he seemed to just laugh. He said "Do you like that rod in your ass? From the way you are moving so, it appears you like being fucked like a woman. Well...well....I think it's time. Too bad for you I guess. Are you ready for me to nut you Hector? You know you have it coming."

I shook my head side to side, begging him, BEGGING HIM with pleading eyes.

He stared into my eyes, and his look was something between excitement and concern. Slowly, his expression changed, and grew softer, and for a second I thought I even detected sympathy for me and what was happening. Was he having second thoughts? Then he said something that for a brief second at least, gave me hope and my heart pounded. He said: "Well.....it does seem a waste though. You are a friend Hector, and as my foreman we go way back together. Seems such a shame, doesn’t it? I'm think Hector I'm going to do you a favor. Yes....I am. I think I'll honor your request and not hurt you any further. As much as you deserve it, I don't think I'll cut you. No, I don't think I'll do that after all."

God, I was shaking.....staring, my heart pounding even faster with hope. He was going to let me up! Perhaps it was because I was not a slave, and if he nutted me he might have some explaining to do. Of course, with his friend on the council nothing would happen, and even I knew that. Still, he said he wasn't going to cut me, and I was gasping with relief and hope. And I had learned my lesson I had I had I had. He didn't move though, and just stared at me, watching me and the expression of hope hanging on my face. Then, a sly smile came to his lips and when I saw it a sinking feeling came over me. And that's when he turned to the Slavic boy, who was standing there naked and with his prick bobbing up and down, all eager and hard. Then he said: "Come here boy....today is your lucky day. Hector doesn’t want me to cut him, even though he should know he deserves it. Everybody else at least knows he deserve it. But, he's been a friend, and so I won't cut him. Still, disobedience cannot be tolerated, and unfortunately for Hector here, he's volunteered to demonstrate the importance of remembering that. Hector is ready and anxious to cut you, and he would do it in a moment if I let him up. So, knowing that, perhaps it would be more fair if you worked the knife. He likes to teach you lessons. Perhaps you can teach him something in return. I'm sure that Hector would be very grateful to you if you did the honors instead, and he's clearly anxious and his cock is stiff and eager. It's time I think, time for YOU to saw his balls off and I can't think of a better way to teach him what he needs to learn."

Then, he handed the big butcher knife to the boy!

My eyes went wide, and any hope I had had was gone in that instant. I started pulling hard against my restraints, rising up and down on the fat rod that was stuffed in my hole in my desperation. The eunuchs laughed as I did that. In a way I guess I was fucking it, fucking my own ass with the rod that impaled me. I fought so damn hard. All I know is that I did not want to lose my balls!

The boy stood with the knife, and stared, but he didn't move. Then, he turned to the master and said: "Sir....I do not want to do this. It is not my place and I would rather not."

The master looked at the boy, and then he said: "Decide boy....now. You take his balls now or you will lose your own. DECIDE."

The Slavic teenager held the knife, staring at my dick, and my tied off sac that was bulging with what made me a man. I saw his expression change, and his eyes opened with intensity. I knew then, as soon as I saw his expression, that he was going to do it and his decision had been made. It was so unfair! I had disobeyed the master to save the balls of this boy, and now it was him that was going to castrate me for doing so! I screamed and begged, grunting out my desperation as the boy approached me, knife in hand. The boy was staring at me, and my sac, and he slowly came forward then, to the table. Because the table is high, and the boy was short, as he came up to it my body was chest high to the teen. He looked to me, and then to the master for encouragement and because of his size he wasn't sure how to reach me to do what he was being asked to do. The master lifted him up then, and set him over my left knee, so that his legs were straddling my knee which was bent downward and tied to the table legs below. The master said: "Ok boy.....you can straddle his leg and get it done. There...that's it. You can reach him now. Just grab his sac and cut his balls off. I'm tired of seeing him as a man and from the way his dick is pointed, he's obviously anxious for you to do it."

The boy's feet were off of the floor then, and his boner sprouted just above my thigh as he set on my knee and stared at me with his deep brown eyes. The weight of him was on my leg, and his little sac of balls was pushed up under him and was also resting on my thigh. I could feel them there. The end of his cock was reddish, and slick, and as he leaned further to grab my balls the end of it came to rest on the top of my thigh. He grabbed my balls and pulled out on them, holding the knife in the other hand. I was shaking with fear, seeing my balls in the boy's hand, looking into his eyes then and seeing the look that would be my doom. He returned the look and stared into my eyes and smiled, grinned really, feeling the power over me and obviously liking it. His gaze then turned to the master, perhaps for encouragement or maybe because he was not sure exactly what to do.

The master said: "That's it....now take the knife and just saw it up and down below the tie...just saw it up and down until he's castrated. That's all you have to do."

I screamed "NO!!!!" into my gag. That's not the way you do it!!! I grunted, and thrust, and fought. The knife hadn't been honed and it was very dirty, and there was no way it was ready to slice a man! Worse, he was going to take my entire sac! He was just going to cut off my scrotum, balls and all; just slice it off of me like a piece of trash. That was a terrible way to nut a man! The cut would be huge, and the tie would not likely hold the wound closed with the sac below it missing, and if it did open the chances of bleeding to death would be intensified a thousand times. Further, using the rusted knife almost guaranteed that there would be some kind of infection, and that could easily kill me even if the castration itself did not. No! NO!

As I screamed my protest and panicked totally, the boy didn't seem to care or to take any notice of my increased struggles. Instead, he lay that dull knife up against my sac, holding it there vertically with his right hand as he held my balls with the other. The master said "That's it.....that's a good boy. Now....just saw the knife up and down, and let it do the work. Use the knife to saw his balls off--NOW."

The Slavic boy grinned, from ear to ear, and then I felt the boy's hand go into motion. I felt the rusted edge of the big knife start to cut into my sac and I bucked my hips in desperation and closed my eyes to the pain. I screamed, and it felt like a thousand yellow jackets stinging me there, the cut burning into me like a poker. I thrusted up and down, up and down, riding the rod that was fucking my ass as if I needed and wanted it. I jerked, and screamed and begged, and yet the boy just kept on at it, moving the knife and slicing it up and down and up and down. My eyes went wide then, and I kept screaming and screaming even as the boy kept cutting.

He had no idea what he was doing, and he didn't put any pressure on the blade at all. If he was going to do me that way he should have just jerked the knife through the top of my scrotum with a single, quick slice, but instead he just sawed slowly and without any pressure at all. GOD IT HURT LIKE HELL! My castration just seemed to go on and on and on, and as I jerked and twitched and felt my nuts slowly being severed from my body, the master laughed and the eunuchs in the room started giggling with glee. Everyone seemed to be enjoying watching my castration, everyone it seems but me.

I felt a wetness then, on my thigh, and as I looked down there to see what it was I saw the boy's pole, and it was squirting out a load of teenage semen in lines of cream. He was ejaculating as he nutted me, and the look in his glazed eyes was one of utter and complete satisfaction. His own orgasm was rocking his body with extreme pleasure as he worked the knife and cut off my balls. He looked down to his own dick then, with a look of surprise at what he was seeing. His mouth was open, and he was gasping, and for some reason it came to me that it was almost certainly his first time. He was literally becoming a man and the same instant he was unmanning me!!! I think the thought of that was too much and I slammed my head backward, arching my back and giving one hard last struggle as all hope was lost.

At that precise second, I too began to ejaculate. My own cock began to shoot, and my load of pent up cream just came shooting up out of my cock like a small spurting fountain. My jism shot out, pumping out of the tip of my dick in thick spurts that splattered across my black shirt in gobs of white goo. It was a big load, but the pain in my balls hurt so bad that the pleasure normally associated with the orgasm was missing. Still, I squirted out my last load while the boy squirted out his first, and together we came he and I. The boy started pulling out on my sac as he was cutting me, which hurt even worse and caused the cut to become wide and jagged. As he pulled downward on my sac my cock was pulled downward, and was shooting vertically then. The boy started jerking my sac, trying to rip it off as he sawed the knife, and as my dick was pulled in all directions spewing out my goo some of it splattered across his smooth chest and a few gobs landed in his hair. It was the biggest wad of my life. I screamed even louder, and that got the boy to start cutting even faster. On and on and on it went, like hell on earth, the boy's load of spunk forming a puddle on my thigh as we both shot our wads together. Finally, just about the time my prick finished shirting, my nuts came free in his hand and then it was done.

Oh the feeling of emptiness! I can't really describe it, but suddenly when I felt my balls get taken everything seemed to just collapse, and all of the fight within me disappeared in that instant. I was beat, defeated, and unmanned, and now as a eunuch everything had changed.

The master leaned over me then, and took my balls from the boy. He held them up, and showed them to me. My entire scrotum had come off in one piece, and it was still quivering at I looked at it, my two testicles still stuffed inside. Where my balls had been there was only a deep, primal ache between my legs instead. They untied my bonds then, but I was too weak to move and instead I just lay there, still impaled on the wooden rod and with the feeling of defeat totally overwhelming me. My spent cock deflated almost instantly, and was already laying like a dead hose across my belly, laying on my black shirt that was well spattered with my own final load of jism. I had the thought that it was my last wad, and it had gone wasted for nothing. The big eunuch pulled the gag from my mouth, and for a second I almost vomited.

The master looked me right in the eyes, and waited until he had my full attention. Then he said: "You will never disobey me again....NEVER. You will unman any slave I tell you to, and when I say to do it. You got that Hector?"

I stared at him, and nodded. His expression changed then, and grew softer. He smiled, and patted me on the head like a man would pat a boy. Then he said: "I still like you Hector. You are still my foreman. You made a little mistake, but you've paid for it. It's over and behind us now, and I'm even grateful for your willingness to serve as an example for the others. I will let you rest now, and for the rest of today, but after that you will need to castrate the blonde Hungarian boy and make him ready to serve my friend. I want him healed up in time so his hole can be fucked. Do you understand me?"

I nodded. I understood him perfectly. For some reason the thought of castrating the Hungarian was something I wanted to do and I was anxious to do it too. I could imagine him with his blonde hair and bright blue eyes, all tied out as I emptied his sac. For reasons I could never explain, suddenly I wanted to nut him badly in a way that was different than before. I didn't want him to have balls! I didn't want anyone to have them for that matter! I felt so inferior, so unimportant, and the humiliation of not being a man was almost overwhelming.

Then, almost as an afterthought, the master looked at the Slavic boy, who had climbed down off my leg and was standing beside the table, a line of drool still dripping from his teenage cock and hanging suspended there, swinging off of the tip of it. He was still erect, jutted up and ready to go, in spite of the fact he had just ejaculated. The stamina of youth is like that I suppose. At any rate, the master then put his finger to the very end of the boy's dick, and wiped off the string of goo. Then, he pushed it sideways through the boy's puddle of virgin spunk which was still pooled on my leg, picking up a big gob of it, which he lifted to his nose. He smelled the kid's load and then he grinned, wide, and as he saw my expression of defeat and hopelessness he laughed.

The glob of semen on the end of his finger was big, and it glistened in the light. I looked at it and stared. The boy's cream was different than my own, a lighter shade of white and a little more watery. As I was looking at it, the master slowly put his finger down until it touched my lips, and I knew what I had to do and I had no power left to resist. So, I opened wide, the feeling of humiliation total and complete. When he slipped his finger into my mouth I closed my lips upon it and my face flushed red with embarrassment.

The master smiled, and then he said "SUCK IT HECTOR."

I sucked on it, eating the boy's salty jism and sucking the master's finger like it was a cock. As I did, the master worked his finger in and out, in and out, almost like he was fucking my mouth as I sucked on his finger and swallowed the young boy's load.

Finally, the master laughed, and pulled his finger out with a pop. Then he grinned, and he said: "You know Hector.....I think that is good for you and you do that extremely well. Yes, very well indeed. I've been thinking, since you wanted the boy to keep his balls, I've decided to allow that to happen. You were a good mentor for the boy, and he needs mentoring. For one thing, from the mess on your leg it appears he has no control of his seed and that cannot be tolerated."

He continued: "As my foreman I'm sure you understand better than anyone that we just can't allow my slaves to just get hard when they want or to squirt their jism on a whim. This boy has a big load already, and it's going to be very difficult for him to learn to control it. To me, it appears that he either needs to be castrated or have his balls emptied regularly. Since you didn't want him nutted I'm going to acquiesce to your wishes and let him grow into a man. But that means that we need to keep his prick under control and to keep him empty. I am thinking it would do you good to do it for him. Do you understand me?"

I stared, and I shook my head, as I was not certain where he was going and I had no idea what he was trying to say.

He grinned, and then he said: "It won't be that that difficult Hector, not for a smart eunuch like you. You'll get used to it at any rate. You see, one of your new chores from now on is to suck the Slavic boy dry, every morning, so he will start his day with his nuts empty and his thoughts on the work that has to be done and not on his cock that otherwise would occupy his thoughts. Yes....that will be good for you, to suck him off regularly and often and to drink his cream. And don't you dare spill a drop, or forget to suck him. Now do you understand me????"

Tears flooded into my eyes. He waited for my answer. I nodded, and then I said "Yes Master...I understand." I was totally defeated. To make sure he asked then: "What is it exactly that you understand?"

I looked back at him, and then to the boy. Then I said "I'll suck him dry if it is your desire."

He grinned, and the boy grinned, and I felt sick inside. The master said "Yes Hector....IT IS MY DESIRE. Every single morning without fail I want you to suck him like a whore and keep him satisfied. Yes....in fact, anytime he feels a need for relief he is to come to you, and you will provide it, no matter how many times a day he wants it. He's a growing boy, with growing balls Hector, so I'd suggest you get used to a pulsating cock in your mouth and a teenage load of spunk in your stomach. You will suck him often as he grows into a man, and keep him happy and well satisfied. Whenever he gets hard you will suck him until he's soft. I mean it. I want him to grow up with a soft, well-satisfied dick. Do not forget it."

I wanted to cry. The boy was grinning, a huge grin on his face, and his cock had stiffened somewhat with the thoughts he was having. It was crystal clear he was suddenly excited about the prospects for his future.

There is not that much else to the story. They say I castrated the Hungarian the next day, but I have no recollection of doing so. I don't remember anything of the Councilman's visit either. The fever had me by then, and the infection that followed was intense and serious. I remember nothing of that time, and yet I've been told that it was the two big eunuch slaves, and the boy and the master that was the key to my recovery. I lay between life and death while the days blurred into weeks, the infection in my groin festering. They washed me every day, and dressed my wound, and cooled me with the snow from the mountains. The poorly made gut tie sloughed off, and I bled then, even as the slit where my scrotum had been turned black and rotting. Perhaps the bleeding is what allowed me to beat the infection. Who can say for sure? I soaked through the dressings, one after the other, and it was a miracle that I did not die. The infection spread and went to my cock, and at that point I was on death's door. The master paid for a healer from the city to keep me alive, and he reopened the wounds and cut off the areas that were dead. I don't remember any of it. I know I was given a number of potions from the apothecary shop, and I've since learned that the master purchased the most expensive and rarest of them in order to save my life. The ground eye of the tiger, the arrowroot, and the rarer than rare golden powder probably helped me a lot, but its difficult to say what was luck and what was not.

When the fever finally broke I do know that I was glad to be alive. Still, it was a long slow road to my recovery, and I did not escape it without some scars. My own cock is a shortened stub now, and the end is flattened and has no feeling. Without my balls it doesn’t matter, and it still works to piss and I guess that's all I need. I do not blame the healer, and I'm sure his skill was one of the reasons that I survived. It was my own stupidity that cost me my masculinity, and blaming others for it serves no purpose. I'm just glad I didn't die, as there is lots still to live for. Whatever the reason for my luck, eventually the wounds healed, and since that time my shortened prick has hung like a dead worm between my legs, the way it does on the other eunuchs that I have cut. I used to laugh at that, and the look of their dead hoses, but of course, now it doesn’t seem as funny and I don't laugh anymore. My cock used to be thick and massive and ten inches long once it got hard, but now its nothing to look at and is almost a nub. It's very short, and I don't think about it much anymore. For a while I tried making it hard, and I would sometimes rub the skin raw on the knob as I tried desperately to make it grow. But, like the other eunuchs I've made, my prick stays lifeless and dead no matter how hard I stroked it. I suppose, it goes with being a eunuch and I've found you do get used to it. My cock just isn’t important anymore. I've never been hard again and the pleasure that it used to bring me is now nothing but a memory.

There are some good things though. I have found that life without my balls is better than no life at all, and that's a good lesson to understand. The master treats me as he always did, and I still run the things on the plantation as I always have. The slaves listen to me even more than they did before, and perhaps it is because they know I am anxious to cut them on a whim. I still eat breakfast with the master of the house, and our friendship has endured and is even stronger than it was before. Now, he often asks me for my advice and he really listens when I give him answers. Still, I know my place, and I do whatever it is that he asks, always careful never to question him or to disobey one of his directives.

As for the Slavic boy that nutted me, he's grown into a man, and over the years his cock has lengthened and his load of spunk has grown thicker and stronger. He's eighteen now, with a fit body that is strong and powerful, and as instructed I've kept his sex pole well satisfied. In the evenings when he's feeling the need he calls for me and I come. Sometimes he puts his pole into my mouth and makes me suck it until it hardens, and then keep sucking it until it squirts and then grows soft again. He loves doing that, and sometimes he keeps it there until it grows hard once again and then I repeat what I have done. That used to make me sick, but over time I've grown used to it and his games. I never protest, and just do his bidding as I was told to do. He is hard every single morning, eager for me and my mouth, and I suck his prick until he grunts out his load. Morning and evening, and often in between, I suck him like a whore until his balls are empty and his cock is soft. He has a lot of cream, and he makes me suck him often. His scrotum has grown in size over the years, and his man-sized orbs fill his sac now. Sometimes, when he's thrown his head back and is pumping his jism down my throat, he makes me gently fondle his balls to increase his pleasure.

There is only one real thing that bothers me. Its not that I have an interest in the woman I once was fucking, because I don't and neither does she. But soon after I had healed the master assigned the boy to clean her home every Saturday, telling me it was compensation to her for losing her man. The master grinned when he said it, and there was nothing I could do but let it happen. Of course, I know the woman well, and from the beginning there was never a doubt that the boy would fill her hole. I'll never forget that first Saturday when he left to clean her home. That evening, when he returned, he was grinning from ear to ear, and he was so excited thinking about what he had done that soon enough he was calling me to come give him relief. Of course, as soon as I took in his eager pole I smelled the woman on his cock and tasted where it had been. That really bothered me, but there was nothing I could do but suck and drink his jism. It now happens weekly, and every Saturday he fills the woman I once had with his young seed. I hate it that its happening, but it's something I have accepted and as I suck him and feel him squirting his wad down my throat I remember the need and understand his desire. Sometimes though, I fondle his big nuts while he's grunting with pleasure. I feel the hairs on his balls, and the way his twin orbs bulge out and fill his scrotum. I feel them there, the essence of his manhood, and as I drink his load of spunk the tears come to me and for that moment at least I am racked with envy.

[Authors note: © Copyright June 2004. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. All comments are appreciated, more than you can know. [email protected]]









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