Ayzintion City—Sweet Revenge

I close my eyes, shutting out the sounds around me. For a minute I feel nothing, and the memory takes over. I force my mind to wander. Martin Hamburg. I let the name of the man I hate sit for a second in my brain, before I push the thought of him away. Martin Hamburg, one of the most powerful men in the city, and one of the richest. At least he was, he was until I went into his house, into his bedroom, and extracted my revenge with my knife. Oh yes, and as I remember the moment, his gagged screams and his begging, I know it is all worthwhile. It was only a few weeks ago, and as I let the memory hold me I savor the thought of him, begging me, struggling even as I cut them from him. Of course revenge didn’t fix the wrong, but it was sweet non-the-less, the way it can be. He certainly deserved it, and I would cut him again in an instant. My only regret is he had only one set of balls, and even as I took them I wanted to take them again and then again. When I took his balls I took his power, and when he lost them he lost the respect he had commanded. I hate him! God--the bastard castrated my sons! Yes, he took my two boys and strung them up onto the tables. No...HE didn’t DO it....not the cutting. He’s too big of a brute to wield a knife. But he dictated it to be done, and he laughed as they were cut and he savored it as his orders were carried out and he made sure I was there to watch.

The nightmare takes over again. A nightmare I lived through. I was there...screaming and begging him to spare them, but he laughed as he had their balls tied. He said I owed him money, and he was extracting his payment. I remember him saying that young balls carried a good price. Oh God! I begged him. BEGGED HIM! For money! God...I knew I owed him, but I was working the fields and making it back. He had no right to take them! I tried to go to the council to be heard, but he holds too much power and they would not see me. What could I do? I watched his men lash my boys down, under his direction, to the tables, the fucking gelding tables with their thick wooden dowels. I watched them spread my sons’ legs, and shove their asses over the two dowels, until they popped past their rings of muscle and the greased rods penetrated into them. They were just boys! Not slaves! My boys...my own flesh and blood sons and the only thing left for me in this world. He had no right to take them! OH GOD HOW COULD HE DO IT? My boys screamed for mercy as they were violated, and begged me to save them. They screamed so loud I had to cover my ears. When those wooden rods penetrated into their guts, it hurt me more than anything can hurt a father. No man should live to see his sons spread out that way, with those rods in their ass and their teenage pricks in the air. I remember watching my boys struggle like there was no tomorrow but they held me down and I could not go to them. My sixteen year old, Paul, was fighting so hard, trying to save his manhood, the future of our family line between his legs. Jespher, my fourteen year old, seemed quieter, more resigned to his fate perhaps. I cried...begged for their lives....to save their balls and let them grow into men. God...not for money! No! Oh please no please no please. I begged him! But Martin Hamburg laughed at my begging, and seemed to relish my misery. Oh God the way he laughed. He had my sons, and he wanted their balls just for the few coins they would bring. I told him I would do anything...ANYTHING and he laughed again and he said to me: “Anything? Well, then I want you to watch the show.” Then, to add to my misery he said: “Why are your boy’s pricks so hard?” and then even more: “How much are a boy’s balls worth do you think? When ground to powder I’m sure they are worth something.” Oh God I remember his laugh when he said that! When they tied the leather thong around their balls I remember by boys jerking against the restraints, their individual nuts visible literally bulging in their sacks, the skin so tight that each of their orbs was clearly outlined and oh-so-exposed. I do remember my older son especially, the way that his prick was so large it surprised me and seemed to literally jut out of his small but thick patch of hair. Oh God....my sons....why wouldn’t he take his payment out on me instead?!!! I begged him to do that at least...told him to take my balls if he wanted some to sell...but he refused and then he had me dragged to the front by the tables and then forced to watch as the cutter moved between their legs. The actual castrations were done fast, and one minute my sons were young men, with a hope and a dream and a life, and the next they were hanging almost limp and unmoving, their balls in the bucket and their pricks shrinking to knobs. The crowd had cheered with each sweep of the knife, and I remember watching the cold steel do its dirty work on each of them. My older boy screamed with the slice, and then he bucked his hips and as the rod in his ass slid in and out of his hole I watched him shoot his seed into the air like a fountain. He grunted with the cut, and as he shot his juice Martin Hamburg almost screamed in delight. My younger boy Jespher didn’t squirt his seed, and for all I know he might not even have been able to yet. His prick had no hair, and his balls were still young, although they had begun to grow and his smooth sack was filling out and was well on its way to making him a man. I know he had a girlfriend, but I just don’t know about his seed. But I do know that when they took his balls he just grunted, and when they stretched out his sack and hooked the knife around it I could see that his eyes were wide with fear. Of course, I was made to watch him as the cut was made. He bucked his hips as it was done like his brother, his ass riding up and down his own rod from the table, and as he bucked the air he struggled desperately. Then, almost in an instant he was just a ballless boy fucking the air as the crowd laughed with glee. His balls were taken so fast it was hard to follow the knife. Then as I watched, his eyes rolled back in his head and he feinted and it was then that the tie came off. Oh God....why? It just came off; the cutter made the slice too close and the tie came lose and after that he never woke up. When the tie slipped off the cut was open then, and the blood came like a river. I screamed for him, and as I watched, they worked to save him. After a while they dragged him away and took him to the station and tried to burn the wound closed but he didn’t make it even then. Now, in hindsight, perhaps he was the luckier of the two. I don’t really know. I do know he is dead, dead for nothing and his last thoughts were as his balls were taken and the crowd was cheering as it was done. Now, he is gone and in the ground and I cannot bring him back. I hate Martin Hamburg. Now, I don’t even know where my older son is. Not anymore I don’t. I tried to see Paul after he was cut but they wouldn’t let me get too close. I could see him across the yard though, and listen as he whimpered and cried and held his legs wide from the pain. I do know he recovered---I saw him standing just yesterday, as he was taken through the square with his wrists bound like a slave, and I’ve heard now only this morning that he was sold. I don’t know what they tell me anymore. Perhaps they want me to know or perhaps they make the lie. I was told that Martin Hamburg had him sold as a slave to a caravan for entertainment. I don’t know but I know the caravans stop here sure enough. I hope it was not a caravan that bought my boy, but I have heard of it and I know it rings true that they often pass by the city and stop for the boys they need. They are barbarians. Usually, they only buy one or two, and the criteria they seek isn’t the looks or the weight or the color of the hair. No, the only criteria they seek is the age of the boy, the tightness of his hole and the smoothness of the cut that took his balls.

I shake my head, and let the nightmare recede. I cannot bring them back, and their balls were left in the bucket and by now they have been ground to powder and sold and have brought money to the man I hate. Yes...now the memory of my revenge is all I have left. So sweet. I remember sneaking into his home, past his servants and his guards and right into his bed chambers. It was easy to take him then, the surprise total, and before he knew anything I was tying his hands to the giant posts in his bed. I gagged him then, so he could not cry out. Then, I took the other rope I had brought, and looping it around his ankles I pulled his legs up, and over his head, until I had him doubled in half and tied to the same posts as his hands. I remember how he looked then, his feet up near his ears, and his balls hanging down and his hole, open and exposed and oh-so-vulnerable. His thighs were huge, and he was covered with hair. His balls were hairy too, and his legs were covered with the black strands. Even his ass had hair all the way down his crack, and the hair on his groin seemed to grow right up and across his fat belly and over his chest. I remember looking at him, and his hole, and the hair that surrounded it and the way it was puckered as he tried to close it. His prick was a knob, small and insignificant. I think he was ashamed of its size. For one of the leaders of the city and the man who was singularly responsible for more than a third of the slave business in the city, he didn’t look so powerful with his tiny dick on display and his legs trussed apart and his ass wide open and exposed.

I’ve never fucked a man, but I fucked him. I pushed my dick into that hole, past his ring just like the wooden dowel on the tables that had impaled my boys. Yeah, he deserved to feel my dick in him, and I remember the way his eyes were wide and how he shook his head and grunted into the gag when I entered him. I remember feeling the tightness then, knowing he had never felt anything like that before and knowing his virgin ass was mine. He knew who I was, and he knew what he had done to my sons. He didn’t know how I had gotten to him, but he could sense my anger and I know it scared him to the core. But even in his fear I could sense his shame when I mounted him like he was a woman. I could sense it in the way he looked, and in his eyes that pleaded for mercy. I know when he saw it was me he knew it was no use and I loved his expression as he felt my cock sliding into him, buried to my nuts inside of his ass. Martin Hamburg crunched up his face as he felt me fucking him, and I could see him trying to threaten me, to warn me off perhaps, but he had already hurt me more than any thing can hurt, and so I mounted him with a vengeance and I fucked him like an animal. That’s when I showed him the knife...when I was in him and fucking him and feeling his hole. He was struggling hard then, knowing the anger of a father, and yet he was helpless to do much and even though he was screaming and begging the gag contained most of the sound. He was begging me like a madman, almost the way I had begged him, but it was far too late for that and he knew it. And so, I took my knife, with its little rusty four-inch blade, and while I pushed my cock in and out of him I laid it up against his huge ballsack that was so full it bulged. When he saw the steel and the knife and felt it resting against his balls he went ballistic, straining against the ropes and jerking so hard his entire bed was shaking. He shook his head back and forth, screaming into the gag in his desperation to call a servant or a guard and somehow perhaps save his balls. I laughed then, as he felt the knife and knew his balls were mine. I didn’t tie his nuts, and I didn’t want to. Instead, I just pushed the little blade right into his sack, and I savored his misery as he grunted from the cut and thrusted his hips in some primal urge that made me laugh. He shot his goo then, and as he was pumping out his seed onto his fat belly I remember feeling his ass spasming around my dick, squeezing me, milking me and feeding me pleasure even as I pumped in and out of him. I pushed harder then, in and out as he ejaculated and enjoyed the feeling as he gripped my dick. I loved the pleasure, and the misery of what I was doing to him. Then, I just took the knife and as he watched me I pushed it harder and it just sliced his nuts right in half...right down the middle of his scrotum and with a twist of my wrist I just filleted it open until his bloody balls fell out, still attached by their cords. You should have seen his expression as he felt it happen. I didn’t hesitate then. I grabbed his exposed right nut just as I started shooting, and as my orgasm began I just grabbed that ball and crushed it between my fingers. Oh God it felt good to do that! As my dick shot my wad I yelled out “This is for Jespher” and that’s when I squeezed and flattened his ball. He screamed into his gag then and jerked wildly as he felt his bloody nut pop. I jerked the bloody pulp hard then and it ripped free in my hand, the cord snapping back inside and the crushed ball no longer his. I dropped it then, like a piece of garbage, and took his right ball next...jerking it down and stretching the cord out long and thin. He screamed again as I played with his one remaining ball, rolling it in my hand and squeezing it as I was pumping out me seed into his guts. Oh it felt so good to hold the last remaining bit of his manhood. Finally I tired of looking at it. “This is for Paul” I said, and then I took my little knife and I sliced his nut in two. He was screaming into the gag then, his fat hips pumping the air as I slowly castrated him. Finally, I slipped the blade through the cord, completing his unmanning, and when I did he grunted, his eyes wide with the realization of what he had lost. Then, as my orgasm subsided, I reached down and grabbed his empty shredded sack, and I pulled down on is so hard that it was stretched out like a long sac of empty flesh. Then, I started slicing it off....just a bit at a time. It came off in slices....and I kept cutting. Blood was going everywhere then, and he was struggling and fighting and jerking as I finished his nutting. Finally, it was done. He had nothing left where his balls had hung. Nothing. The blood surged out of where they had been and filled his bed. My prick stayed hard as I nutted him, and as he struggled his asshole jerked open and then closed, at least closed as far as my stiff cock would allow. Finally, my satisfied dick slowly began to soften but still I didn’t pull out. I savored the feeling of his hot ass that was still convulsing from the cut, and as I felt his spasms I started moving slowly in and out. As I did so I grew rock hard again from the combination of the feeling and the thrill of my revenge. I then fucked him a second time, feeling him thrash about, screaming as his castrated cock shrank away to almost nothing. I fucked him long and hard, and let the feeling of pleasure take its time to build, finally building to a second ecstasy. I filled him with my seed the second time, and as I felt my own balls pumping it out I could see him watching me enjoy what he could not. Ah, yes, revenge, how it can be so sweet!

I feel it then, and I am brought back to the present as I become aware of the metal against my sac. I open my eyes and stare at the crowd. There he is, Matin Hamburg, right in the front row. He’s a lot whiter than when I saw him last, and he has lost a lot of weight and he looks weak and sickly. He should have bled to death, and he almost did but he didn’t. Well, I can hope that the infection will finish him, and I can think he is a dead man, even though he is alive and I see him now. He isn’t laughing now, and the sparkle in his eyes when he nutted my boys is missing this time. He is without balls, that much I do know, and it is enough to keep that memory. Everyone in the city knows it too, and I can take some satisfaction in that at least. I don’t care anymore. I struggle one more time, and as I jerk my hips I can feel the wooden dowel in my ass, deep inside of me, pushing hard right into my prostate. The table is literally fucking me and forcing my cock to grow hard and stiff. I squeeze my ass shut, but the wooden dowel fills my hole and there is no way to shut it out. I glance down at my cock then, jutting up hard and stiff, like it is eager for my balls to feel the knife and is anxious for it to happen. As I look beyond it I can see my own balls bulging in their sack, trapped there by the leather tie that is literally changing their color as I watch them die. They are a deep, darker red now, and they hurt. Still, I don’t care. They are gone anyway, and I know it, and there is nothing I can do about it. The crowd is large, with several hundred standing to see what they can and watch my balls be taken. I feel the knife there, against my sac, and I grit my teeth and steal myself against the pain to come. I will not cry out, or give him the satisfaction. Then, I see it moving, and NOW OH GOD I FEEL THE CUT, and then as the crowd roars I bite my tongue as I feel the spasm, and then suddenly my dick is spewing one last time. The cutter saws the knife through them, working the steel blade back and forth slowly as my prick spits my seed, taking his time. I’m unable to keep from bucking my hips but I somehow manage not to yell and give Hamburg that satisfaction. Finally, the knife completes its task and they are HIS, and as I see the cutter holding them up to the crowd I feel my dick finish shooting the last of my cream. I don’t care. I close my eyes then, and let the roar of the crowd blend to nothing, and the darkness of the night swallow me as I begin to drift into a dreamless sleep. Oh yes, revenge. It is fear and hatred and ecstasy all wrapped up into a single emotion. I open my eyes one more time and look at him, the man I hate who owns my balls. He is staring back at me, trying to gain some satisfaction from what has been done. I almost laugh, knowing he is watching me with his empty groin and missing sack, his mangled body the new laughing stock of the city. There is no pleasure in his eyes. Yes, revenge, oh so sweet it can be. I understand it, and I can savor it, the sweetness of it. Yes, it’s an emotion I understand fully, and I embrace the memory, and then I smile at him, a big toothy grin and suddenly I’m laughing, even with my final seed spilled on my belly and my own balls in his bucket.

[Author comment: If you read this story, and enjoyed it, please tell me. Thanks. All rights reserved. Nathan--- ([email protected])]