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THE FIGHT CLUB - PART III Anticipation: I feel the engines of the Boeing 777 make a change in pitch, and slowly the big jet starts down. I slide my first class seat back, and pick up the flyer once again. My cock stirs in my pants, and the closer I get now the more excited I am. In less than twenty four hours I will be watching my first Fight Club match, and I lick my lips with the thought. I wonder which of the fighters will win, and which will lose. I stare at the pamphlet on my lap. I've read through it a hundred times, and yet I open it once again. The first pages are a general discussion of the Fight Club, and how it works, and there is a reminder of what my benefits are, and what things are covered by my membership and which things are not. Stapled to the front page is my ticket to the match, as well as another for the Observation Windows, along with several tickets and coupons to some of the local attractions. There is also my escort information, and my payment receipt for the woman I have rented with the room. I've never rented a whore....never, and yet I haven't had any sex in such a long time that I have made the purchase. The literature says they are all certified...whatever the hell that means. Anyway, they are supposed to be disease free and all I can say is that they had better be. Shit. I guess I can always change my mind. Hell, I'm almost forty-five for god's sake....and it feels strange even going on this journey. But I need something to spice things up in my otherwise dull life, and the Fight Club seems interesting and it should be more entertaining that another trip to Las Vegas. Vegas used to be fun, and when they were having the fights there it was a big draw for me. I'd pop some money on the fights, and it was fun to cheer for you man. But the boxing itself doesnt do it for me. For one thing they are mostly in their late twenties and early thirties now, and watching two guys slug it out just isnt enough. All that happens in the end is the winner gets his arm raised up high by the ref, and after that the money changes hands and everyone goes home. Shit. What's the excitement in that? My thoughts go off to another time. Yeah, I need to find another woman. When was the last time? The last two were Mary...and Paula. Yeah...Mary broke it off three years ago, and Paula was before her. I don't know...so much water over the bridge. If. Yeah...if. Shit. I think about the blow job I didn't buy. Man....have I ever had a decent blow? No....probably not. Definitely not. The new kids these day, well, they get sucked regularly I hear. But, well, not me. Not in my lifetime. I guess I was born too early, before the girls liked to do it. I look at the pamphlet and think of the blow jobs it talks about. Hell, I almost rented a young fighter for the second evening of my stay, but I'm not gay. Still, I half think I made a mistake, because it would have been interesting to have been sucked off by one of the young fighters. The literature talks about how well trained they are and the one statement in the material comes back to my mind: "Gay or straight, make sure you take advantage of having your cocked sucked when you come for a visit. Our slaves spend weeks learning how to give the best blowjob in the world. Don't miss out on this exclusive membership benefit!" Of course, it's not a benefit you don't have to pay for. Well, ok, they gotta make their money like everyone else. And if they really fight two hot studs and the winner really takes the losers balls off, well, then THAT is a fight! Soon enough I'll see I guess. I drop my right hand in my lap and feel my dick, laying still and flaccid. It's flaccid a lot lately. Part of getting old I guess. Shit. I wonder if it would get up for a blow? I havent had a good blowjob by anyone really, not ever. Yeah...I wonder. I guess if he was good enough, my cock wouldn't care that it was getting sucked by a guy. Still, I don't think it would be my thing. Well, I didn't buy one so it doesnt matter. In the end I had decided to wait on that, for the next trip perhaps, and instead stick to a woman and what I know. As I think of that, I wonder what kind of woman they will have for me. All I can hope is that she looks ok and is as safe as they say she will be. I flip through the maps and other information pages, and pause again on the picture of the Texan, the first boy they list for the match. His image is on the left page, and his stats are printed on the right. I stare at his picture. He's dressed in a blue wrestling singlet, poised, with his two hands out and slightly bent at the waist, staring at the camera and looking ready to fight. He looks young, and he is, and looking at the nineteen year old makes me feel old. His body is perfect, and every muscle seems to ripple, and there isn't much that is left for my imagination. He has a cute face, with freckles that seem to adorn it everywhere, making him look innocent as hell. He's a physical stud, solid muscle, and he looks like a winner to me. His hair stands out, as its a reddish hue, and is striking and it immediately catches my eye. There isn't any sign of a beard or mustache, and his face is so smooth I doubt he has been shaving long. I can see his nipples through his singlet, adorning his powerful pecs, and they are small and pointed, and accentuate his form. My eyes follow down his chest and across his flat abdomen, which is rippled with his muscles. The horizontal lines of his abdominal muscles are clearly visible within his singlet. Also apparent is the bulge of his manhood, and as I stare at it I can faintly make out the outline of his cock cage. I wonder how long he's been in the chastity device, and how frustrated he is. It will be interesting to see him when his cock is hard, and I wonder if his cock will do the fucking, or if his ass will be filled by his opponent's pole and end up getting spurted with the other boy's cream. As I look at him with those thoughts, my own prick stirs in my pants, and a smile grows across my face. On the right hand page are his stats, and I study them. Name: Timothy R, from Texas, USA. Age: 19 Height: 72 1/2" // 185cm Weight: 173 lbs // 79 kg Zodiac: Gemini Cock: 4.5 inches flaccid; 9 inches erect Scrotum: Large; fully matured Hair: Red, natural, cropped to average length for age group. Pubic hair adult thickness, bush limited to thick patch above cock, armpit hair normal for age. Chest hair very limited, a few short strands near the center of his chest with no hair around nipples. Thin line of hair above groin. Red hair on legs and growing up along the inside of his thighs. Normal adult thickness of sexual hair around rectum. Sexual orientation statement: "I'm definitely heterosexual. I hate queers." Penile Plethysmography sexual orientation determination: normal hetrosexual Cock: Circumcised at birth Sexual Status: Non-virgin, sexually active at age 15 (determination by lie detector) Medical evaluation determination: Adult male, disease free Last ejaculation: 60 days prior to match//controlled Method used: Physically restrained; forced manual manipulation of penis to orgasm Last Sperm Count: 85 million sperm per ejaculate, 76% motility and 82% normal morphology. Ejaculate Volume: 5.2 milliliters Question: "Do you have anything to say to your opponent?" Answer: "No...not really. I'm just going to concentrate on my match, and doing my best. I can beat him, and I will. If I fight the way I know I can, then I will pin him and win." Match Stats: Training Matches: 47 Wins: 33 Loses: 14 Actual matches: none I flip the page, and take a hard look at his opponent. He's young as hell, and yet he has the body of a wrestler. He too is in the same poise, wearing a bright green singlet, and his muscles seem strong. He has a stocky look about him, and a determined look to match. Still, he reminds me more of a kid, and looks like he belongs in high school and not fighting in some match for the right to keep his balls. That said, I like him, and the look on his face is determined, like he's strong minded and ready to go. He's from Russia, with close cropped hair that is almost jet black, and I wonder if he's of Slavic origin. There is a wisp of a mustache growing across his upper lip, a feint blackness there that is sparse, almost like he was attempting to grow something. It's hard to tell, and perhaps it had just been a few days since he had shaved. His eyes are deep brown, and he's shorter than the American. He reminds me of a weight lifter, and it's obvious he has worked his body hard and toned his muscles. In the front of his singlet he has a similar bulge to his opponent, and the outline of his chastity device is more evident. His body is shorter than the American's, and as I stare at his picture I wonder how that will translate when its time for their match. I look at his statistics, and try to make a comparison. Name: Borris A, from St Petersburg, Russia. Age: 18 Height: 68" // 173cm Weight: 175 lbs // 80 kg Zodiac: Scorpio Cock: 4.5 inches flaccid; 8 1/2 inches erect Scrotum: Medium; nearing maturity Hair: Dark brown, natural, crew cut. Pubic hair typical for teen aged male in mid stages of puberty. Bush limited to small patch above cock, armpit hair thin and localized. Chest devoid of hair, no hair around nipples. Pubic patch localized, hairline does not extend towards navel. Some hair on legs and growing up towards his anus. Rectum hair typical for mid-teen in later stages of puberty Sexual orientation statement: "I like women. I'm totally heterosexual." Penile Plethysmography sexual orientation determination: gay male with tendency towards pedophilia Cock: Uncircumcised Sexual Status: Virgin (determination by lie detector) Medical evaluation determination: Late stage pubescent male, disease free Last ejaculation: 60 days prior to match//controlled Method used: Physically restrained; forced manual manipulation of penis to orgasm Last Sperm Count: 62 million sperm per ejaculate, 70% motility and 42% normal morphology. Ejaculate Volume: 4.9 milliliters Question: "Do you have anything to say to your opponent?" Answer: "Yeah....I'm going to turn his ass into a cunt and after I do then I'm going to geld the bitch. Tell him I can hardly wait to take his balls!" Match Stats: Training Matches: 49 Wins: 31 Loses: 18 Actual matches: none It was all pretty interesting. The information was extensive, and it occurred to me that the organization had a good handle on things. I picked this match to be my first one to visit for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that this particular month was the only one I could get away from work for. October is a dead one for our company, and yet even so I had to struggle to fit in this trip. Hopefully, it will all be worthwhile. Although I was limited on my choices, I am not disappointed with the two fighters. I decide to side with the American, and I'm actually looking forward to watching the Russian kid get his nuts cut off. The "gay male with tendency towards pedophilia" really sticks in my mind, and it surprises me that they do those kinds of tests on their slave fighters. That has to be expensive as hell. Of course, so was my membership, so it is not totally unexpected. I look at the picture of the Russian, and I find myself really hoping he gets nutted, and it would be good to watch the braggart fighting it. I figure if they take his balls they would be doing him, and the rest of society a favor. As far as I'm concerned, based on what I have read, he even deserves to be gelded. It occurs to me that he was born in September. A Scorpio it had said. That means he is barely 18, by a month, and still into the last stages of puberty. That is good. He's up against a strong male, a man, and while the kid has a lot of obvious muscles I figure the American will best him. The American is more than a year older, and I figure that will be an advantage too. Still, their weights are the same, and so it's hard to say how it will really go. There is a chime that sounds and then repeats again, and it draws my concentration back to the airplane. I raise my seat, and put away my Fight Club pamphlet in preparation for the landing. Then, I stare out the window, watching the big jet as it turns and the ground looms closer. There is a lot of desert here, and a lot of sand. The city though is modern, and we are low enough now to see the bustle of traffic. I finger my passport in my shirt, and then I hear the rumble as the big jet begins to configure for landing. As that happens, my thoughts go to my plans, and I can only hope it will be as they have said. I am supposed to be picked up by an escort, and as we get closer I begin to wonder how I will find him. My Arrival: "Hello Sir....I trust your flight went well?" he says. I stare. There are two men, and the younger of the two is clearly one of the fighters, although not one of the two I will be seeing in the match tomorrow. But I recognize him from one of the pictures in the Fight Club materials I have at home, and I can't take my eyes off of him. He looks solid, with muscles, and to me he appears as an oversexed high school kid. He's an American, that much is obvious, and with his striking blond hair and bright blue eyes he's clearly got the surfer look. He reminds me immediately of one of the neighbor boys at the end of our block, a boy who always seemed to have a girl at his side. I wondered if this boy has ever been with a girl? He certainly has the body of a girl magnet. I stare at him, and it strikes me that he looks like the high achieving type of kid, with that killer look and the focused eyes that just tell you he's going places. I wonder how he ended up here, as a fighting slave for the Fight Club. A thousand questions race through my mind. I smile at him, and he returns it with a big killer grin. I glance to his pants, and wonder if he's wearing his chastity device. He must be. Next to him is the man that spoke to me, and he is an Arab male, and he looks totally professional. He is standing there beside the boy, and then he reaches out and shakes my hand. After that they escort me out past customs, where they pause for a second and chat with the guards. Seconds later I am waved through, and the official there only gives me a cursory glance. The younger boy goes to get my luggage, and I go with the Arab outside, where a limo is there to meet us. As we are waiting for the boy to return, it occurs to me that the slave is not being watched. I say: "Isn't he one of the slaves from the Club?" The Arab laughs, and says "Yes....you have a smart eye. He's a promising lad, and he's well trained. He's totally smooth, and if you want him for your bed it can be arranged." I blush red, and feel a flush of anger. Then I stammer: "No....shit no....I..I just, well, just didn't expect the slaves to be allowed to roam around the city unescorted. Aren't you afraid he might try and escape?" He laughs. Then he answers me: "Don't worry. Will isn't going anywhere, and he can't escape. Not here, for there is nowhere for him to go for one thing and the authorities would return him to us if he tried. Besides, he's got a shocker in his ass right now, and if he tried something stupid I'd zap him. But he knows better, and he won't. Besides, he's well trained." As he said that he pulled what looked like a remote control device, with a red button on the top of it, out of his pocket and showed it to me. When I looked at it, he grinned. Then he continued "If I hit the button the boy would crumple like a rag doll. It's useful to get them to do things they sometimes don't want to do. This one doesnt need it through, but it's just a precaution." I asked: "So, he's got something up his rectum?" He grins. Then he answers: "Yeah....a shocker. It's locked in place with a key, and he can't shit it out. If he tampers with it then it will go off automatically, so they don't mess with it when it's in place. They always wear a shocker when we take them out of the compound. It's pretty good insurance. If you shock em, they go down, hard, and they stay that way for quite a while. It's a thousand times worse than a kick in the nuts and it doesnt go away for a damn long time." A few minutes later the boy was back, with my suitcases, and then the three of us got in the limo. As I looked at the boy more questions raced through my mind. What the hell was an American boy like him doing here? How did he get into the Fight Club? In a way he looked like any good looking kid, except that he was totally under their control. Truly, he was the modern equivalent of a slave, and powerless to do much about it. As I looked at him, and thought about his cock all sealed up in his chastity cage, I had to wonder what it was like for him. I tried not to stare at his bulge, but it occurred to me as I glanced at it that unlike most teenagers his age, this one probably hadn't masturbated in a very long time. The ride to the hotel took about twenty minutes, and during the ride the Arab talked about the club and told me to call him if I had any problems. The boy stared at me the entire time, and sat quietly with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He didn't seem to have much of an expression, and I wondered what he was thinking about. I would have loved to talk with him, but the Arab was too busy chatting and telling me about different things, and so even if the boy wanted to he wasnt given the opportunity. Just before we pulled up to the hotel I winked at him and he looked down, his face flushing red with embarrassment. When we arrived at the hotel the Arab took me to a side room where he went over a few of the papers, while the slave kid took my bag to the room. He checked my certificate of health from my doctor, and then made sure I had the information and schedule for the match the next day. Satisfied, he handed me the key and escorted me to the express elevator that went straight to the suite floor. As I got in I saw the boy again, and he was waiting in the lobby like a well behaved young man, all dressed up and waiting for the Arab, and for whatever it was they wanted him next to do. In the room When the elevator opened I was on the top floor, sixteen stories above the city. Finding my room was easy, as there were only four suites on the entire floor. I opened the door, expecting to find a room and a bed and a bathroom. Instead, there was this immense living room that had a side door leading to a bedroom, which was open. My suitcases were already there, on a stand by the door. The windows were full length, and stretched clear across the far wall, which opened to a patio and a breathtaking view of the sea out the window. As I was staring, my mouth open as took in the stunning grandeur of the hotel room, all I could think about was this was much nicer than I had expected. "Mr Jennings?" I jumped, the woman's voice coming as a total shock. I turned and stared, stunned. I had barely walked through the door and now standing there, and apparently coming out of my bedroom and waiting for me, was simply put one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on, barring none. She had big, gorgeous tits, and they were firm and jutted out from her halter top. This being the Middle East I had not expected that, not at all, and she definitely looked out of place. I couldn't care less. She laughed, and then came over to me. I didn't know what to say. I manage to find out she is from Sweden, and had been working for the Fight Club for about three years. She pulled me backward into the bedroom of the suite, and my heart was pounding in my chest. Right away I hit it off with Linda. I don't know what I expected, but then she turned to me and kissed me, deep, and that stunned me beyond anything I could have expected. I licked her lips, and felt her firm breasts, and my dick went rigid, which surprised me. She worked me to the bed, and I fell backwards, onto it. I started to stammer....the sudden thoughts about sexually transmitted diseases rushing into my head. My condoms were in my bag, by the door, and I had not expected anything like this, at least not as soon as I arrived. She tossed off her top, and her firm breasts jutted upward and at me. Then she reached in her purse and produced a health certificate, which she handed to me. My heart was pounding at that point, and as I stared at the official governmental certification card, with a Fight Club stamp on it, I noticed it was re-certified that very morning. Name: Linda Haggalak, Age 24. Health Certificate Guarantee The professional woman pictured has been tested and found to be free of all disease, is HIV negative, and is reproductively sterile. She has been sexually inactive for sufficient duration to validate this certificate. It will remain valid until her next sexual encounter, after which recertification will be required. In no case is this certificate valid for more than fifteen days. The sex begins: As I looked at her image on the card, I felt her unsnap my pants, and as I looked down she opened them and then pulled my cock up and out from my boxer shorts. I gasp, and look at her, and she says "That's why I'm so expensive. I only have sex on occasion, and every time I do I have to wait to be recertified. I'm totally clean....as disease free as any virgin. But I've got a lot more skill, and you can't get me pregnant. And for the next two nights, I'm all yours." I nod my head, stunned, not sure what to say. Then she opened her mouth and took in my pole, sliding it all the way, deep throating me for the first time in my life. God. I stared, in disbelief really. I had barely arrived and my cock was already buried in the mouth of one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her delicate fingers tickled my balls, and she played with the hairs on them, toying with them even as she sucked down my cock. Then, slowly, she slid her mouth upward, along the length of my shaft, and then back down again, up and down. I watched until my neck grew tired, her staring into my eyes as she sucked on my pole. Oh it felt so damn good! I let my head fall back, flat on the bed, and just stared at the ceiling as she worked my rod. I just couldn't believe the feeling. My cock was thick, really thick, and it was as hard then as it had ever been. I thought of the bottle of Viagra in my suitcase, and realized I didn't need it. God she was just so damn good! I pushed my hips upward, fucking her mouth, and she took the entire length of my pole down her throat when I did. I was in heaven, and it was more incredible than any blowjob I had ever even imagined in my entire life. I fucked her mouth, literally. Oh yeah it was oh so sweet. She was sliding her lips along my pole, working the skin and tickling my nuts, and the feeling began and I knew it was way too soon for that. I tried then to slow her down, finally telling her I didn't want to cum yet. She looked up and smiled, grinned really, and then ignoring me she started licking the end of my dick as if it was a Popsicle. She paused, and looked at me then, and I raised my head again and looked at her. That's about the time she said: "Don't worry....shoot your wad. We have all night and I want your load and I plan to keep your nuts satisfied and very empty. Don't worry, I'll keep you hard. Let go and enjoy the feeling and let it overtake you." She took in my cock again, ALL THE WAY IN, and I threw my head back then again and just let the feeling build. I couldnt believe it, and while I had dated a lot of girls in my life there had never been one that talked like her or sucked like her. Never. I felt her lips against my groin, my entire cock down her throat, and she just sucked it that way, sliding her lips up and down my shaft as if there was no tomorrow. I was going to cum. I tilted my head farther back, and arched my back as the feeling peaked, and then, like a teenager in heat, I started shooting out my cream. I know I came more violently than I ever had before, and I felt my nuts exploding as the sperm flew out my shaft. She swallowed every drop, every single drop, sucking it all down as I blasted my load past her tonsils. I came and came, just pumping out my jism, and she drank my goo as if it was sweet cream and was grinning as she was doing it. Finally, and like never before, I was spent, and the feeling of bliss washed over me and in that instant the jet lag and lack of sleep caught up to me. I lay totally wiped, my muscles twitching in post-orgasmic pleasure as that women continued to suck on my pole long after it had pumped itself dry. I heard a rustling in the covers, and my prick stirred. I was dreaming of her, of her hot mouth, and how her tongue was working on my shaft. I thought of her pussy, of her womanhood, and of her tits. Then....oh GOD...I opened my eyes and she was there, between my legs, and I was flat on my back and she had my pole. It was dark outside. How long had I been asleep? I blinked my eyes, and she grinned then, sitting there on my legs, holding my pole and massaging some kind of oil or lubricant into my cock. I stared, and she smiled, and then she started to slide her slick hand up and down. I had obviously been asleep, literally, and my eyes shot to the clock beside the bed and it was eight pm. SHIT! Wow. The entire afternoon had slipped by me, and yet as I looked at her and stared I didn't really care. She sat up on her knees, and spread her legs, and as I stared at her shaved snatch I watched her as she leaned forward and guided my erection into her pussy. Oh GOD....OH...OH...OH. She was hot....and wet....and tight. Very tight, and yet my cock slid into her, deep, all the way to my balls with a single movement. She rode up then, and down, riding my cock, and as I felt her vagina gripping me my prick grew even more rigid than it already was. Up and down, up and down, riding my pole and fucking me with her pussy. She spread her legs some more, raising up and giving me room to thrust, and I moved my hips then, shoving my eager cock into her, as she slid back down onto it at the same time, coordinating her thrusts to mine, so that we slammed my cock deep into her pussy with every thrust. Up and down, in and out, and my nuts started churning with the feeling of bliss. She giggled then, and I felt her pussy muscles literally just grip my shaft. Then, in a surprise move, she just turned around, with my shaft still inside of her, so that she was facing away from me and sitting on my cock, with me now fucking her from behind. Then, somehow she started twitching her cunt muscles, which gripped by pole like nothing I had ever felt before. God she was good, and oh so hot, and as her pussy gripped me it felt like she was pulling me into her. She literally used her muscles to suck up my cock and massage the head of it. I could feel her pulsating, and I pumped into her harder, and she shuddered and her tits grew to points. She was cumming then, and yet she just moaned with the bliss and fucked me harder, faster, sucking my cock deep into her pussy, almost like a vacuum cleaner. I could not have believed it if I had not experienced it. Her cunt pulled on my cock, and massaged it, Her vagina had talents I didn't even know women possessed! I felt her heat, her wetness, and the feeling of her sex was so incredible I was stunned. I fucked her. She fucked me. On and on and on it went. Finally, I felt the feeling, and knew I was going to cum. For a second I realized I had no rubber, that I was really feeling HER...feeling her pussy, feeling her juices and feeling the essence of what made her a woman. I gasped, and then my eyes went wide and I started to shoot out another huge load. God I came! I shot and shot and shot, my sperm flying out of my prick with such pressure it is hard to describe. It all literally blasted into her cunt, filling it with my load of seed, and as I realized what I was doing I just hoped she was really clean. I hadn't had unprotected sex but a few times in my entire life, and here I was, in a foreign country, in bed with a woman I hardly knew. OH GOD WHAT A LOAD! My nuts pumped out my cream and I shuddered, and after that my back was slick with sweat and my legs quivered as I filled her vagina with my seed. After I was done she stayed on top of me for quite some time. I started to go flaccid, and my cock was sore and I rolled over on my side to attempt to slide out of her. She stopped me instead, and I felt her pussy muscles playing with my pole, working the shaft somehow as I lay inside of her and felt my load of cream dripping out of her. My cock was mostly soft at that point, and I thought for a moment it would slide out of her hole at any second. But then her vagina muscles pulled on it, sucked on it really, and she literally sucked up my soft prick and held it inside of her. I just couldn't believe the feeling. I looked at her tits, and she pulled my head to her chest. I sucked a nipple, and ringed by tongue around it. My prick stirred, still inside of her, and then as I worked on her tit her pussy muscles seemed to just grab the very end of my dick and I could feel them rippling over the head of it. I got hard all over again. She spun around again so she was facing me, my cock still inside, and then she rolled over then, holding on to me, so that she was down on her back and I was up, on top of her, staring at her tits and with my pole buried in her cunt. I started to move my hips, sliding my dick in and out of her pussy, and I grew even harder with every thrust. Soon I was rock hard once again, and so I fucked her all over again. Hell, I fucked her like a hadn't fucked since I was a teenager. She whispered into my ear: 'That's it...that's it. Fuck me....fuck my pussy. Fuck my pussy harder....HARDER. FUCK MY PUSSY BOY. FUCK MY PUSSY. FUCK ME FAST AND FUCK ME HARD." No girl had ever spoke to me like that. I fucked her, fucked her pussy as she begged me to. In and out, faster and faster and faster, like a desperate teenager fucking his first girl, I fucked this women as if there was no tomorrow coming. As I did, I stared at her tits, and finally after several minutes, I felt the feeling once again. "FASTER I SAID.....FUCK ME FASTER AND RAM YOUR COCK INTO ME!!!!" I moved my hips in a blur then, just slamming my pole into her as far as it would go. She started to moan, and then she tossed her head back with the pleasure she was feeling. I was sweating like a pig, my back slick and wet, and even the crack of my ass was drenched with it. I fucked her and fucked her, my cock so stiff and eager I could not have believed it. Suddenly, she shoved a finger deep in my ass, and as she did she said "SQUIRT YOUR LOAD BOY....SQUIRT IT NOW!" And I did. A spasm racked through my entire body, and I screamed with the feeling as she curved her finger and ran the tip into my prostate. I began to shoot yet another load, depositing my man cream into her twat, filling her again as I emptied my balls. As I ejaculated she screamed, and then she too was cumming, her twat gripping my cock in rhythmic contractions as she pulled on my dick and drained me dry. After that, I was spent, my balls totally empty and my cock sore. I pulled out, and got out of the bed and headed for the bathroom and a well needed piss. God.....my prick felt like it had been fucked right off, and yet the feeling was oh so incredible. I was hungry. Room service took care of that, and together we dined on fresh lobster and caviar, with French cheese and two bottles of wine. A Dream Sated, I went to the couch and held her in my arms, enjoying the wine and playing with her nipples as I feasted on her with my eyes. Sometime later, early in the morning, I moved to the bed and held her fast. Later I had a wonderful dream about another hot little twat, my first girl I laid when I was a teen. I was in her deep and fucking her fast, a sixteen year old with a hard rod. The dream was vivid, and in it I was plowing my first girl and she was begging for more. As I was doing her I felt this hand on my balls, and in my dream I turned to see who it was, and instead of the girl William was there, the boy from the airport. I could see him plain as day, vividly and in every detail and he seemed angry that I had his girl. His blond hair was shining in the light of the room, and then as I looked I saw the knife and my balls and he merged them together until they were one and the same. Just as he sliced me I squirted, my cock pumping out my jism as he took my manhood. I woke up with a start, my cock in a spasm and ejaculating with the intensity of the wet dream. I looked down quickly, half expecting to see the blond boy holding my balls, but instead it was only her, sucking my dick and drinking another of my loads. I blinked, the dream still half real, and the reality of the moment no less believable. But when I blinked again she did not go away, and so I watched her as she licked my cock head and I finished squirting out the last of my jism. As I ejaculated, my dream evaporated into the unbelievable reality that the night had become. Match Day I got up and took a shower, and she got dressed and prepared to leave. It was early morning, and the sunrise was coming up in the east, and the world of the dessert was turning pink in the haze. She poked her head inside and gave me a kiss, and then she said she would see me later in the evening, after the fight was done and I was ready for her pussy. I grinned then, and so did she, and then after that I was alone. I started to get excited. The match was set for an hour past noon, and I wanted a good breakfast and some time for the museum before it started. As I thought of the two men that would soon be fighting, I felt my heart pounding in my chest. The very idea of two strong and viral men putting it all on the line, each trying to best the other, to win the match and to defeat the other, was something to get excited about. It was far more than just one man fighting another. It was a contest of power and of strength and of ability. It was a contest between MEN. And everything was at stake....everything. What would it be like to be nutted? To be UNMANNED. The very term got me hard. A man fucked. A man conquered. A man fathered children and a man hunted pussy. But one of them wouldn't be a man at the end of today. No, one of them would be UNMANNED, castrated; his balls literally stolen from between his legs, and he powerless to do anything to stop it. Afterwards he would just be a hole to fuck, a ballless being with a worm for a cock. He would be an "it." Wow. WOW. WOWWW. I could hardly wait! After breakfast I took the Fight Club limo to the compound, and it was modern and impressive and it smelled of money. It took a while to get inside, as they had to verify my credentials, and then validate my tickets. I still had plenty of time to kill before the match however, and so I headed for the museum and the exhibits. There was a lot on the early history of the Fight Club. There was a section devoted to the methods of castration, used throughout history, and that was fascinating. It was almost funny in a way, because my own prick was so sore from all of the fucking from the previous day that I could hardly walk. I wasn't sure if the ache I felt in my own nuts was from looking at the exhibits and thinking about what I was seeing, or simply because I had ejaculated so many times in the past twenty four hours that they were just sore. When I got to the area of the museum called the "Hall of Shame" I found it deeply fascinating. There, one after the other, were lines of jars, and each jar was filled with the scrotum of a defeated fighter. Above the jars were photographs of the fighter, and of his castration, and each and every one was fascinating to me. Some of the exhibits had several sets of earphones hanging on a side wall, with buttons you could press to hear audio tapes from the actual moment when the defeated male was being unmanned. I listened to several, and my prick went hard. God. It just seemed so unbelievable, surreal in a way, although the jars of balls were real enough. I stared at one set of balls and looked at the picture of the young fighter that had owned them. As I did, I put on the headphones and pressed the button. A young man's voice was cracking like a pubescent teenager, the fear unmistakable. "Oh....OH PLEASE DON.....ARGHHHHHH" His begging was chopped off in mid-sentence with a scream, as he apparently felt the knife and it took his balls. The tape was short, but it was long enough, and as I looked at his balls I realized that every sack of nuts had been taken violently, against the losers will and without any kind of painkiller. There were all kinds of scrotums. Some had hair, and some did not. Some were fat and filled with a big set of nuts, while others were noticeable smaller and much less developed. There were so many! Just so damn many! Each sack of balls seemed unimportant now, just a lifeless piece of meat that floated in preserving fluid. Yet, at one time the balls that were now so useless had been so much more. In fact, they were the most important thing in the world to the men whose pictures adorned the walls. They were their source of pleasure and their source of need. They literally defined the men as men really; it was their stuffed scrotums that made them male. Their balls were their power, their manhood, and it was their balls that made them what they were. The severed scrotums at one time fueled their cocks, and gave them erections and drove them after women. They manufactured the man's seed, and made them each a potential father. In short, they were everything to the men in this exhibit. Everything. And yet now they were nothing. The losers had bet it all, and now their nuts had been taken from them. It was all for a fight, risking it all for the chance to win. Just the idea of that kind of a match had me oh so damn excited, and I could only imagine the intensity of the physical struggle that would leave the loser unmanned. As I looked up then, at just one picture, I stared at a twenty year old with brown hair and a small goatee. I wondered about what it had been like for him. Where was he now? His balls were here, that much was obvious, here in the museum, just like all of the others; snatched between his legs at the very height of his maleness. He had grown his beard with his balls, and they had made him viral and made him male. And now, wherever he was, he was a nothing. Just thinking about it, and looking at them floating dead in the jar, made me rock hard in my pants. I wanted to stay, to see every sack, to look at the images and to listen to the tapes of the men being gelded. I wanted to stay and look and listen so damn bad, but there were far too many and before I knew it I had to leave. Reluctantly, I did, and headed to the Grand Hall, where the ring was set up and where the fights were held. On the way I went by the betting window, and dropped five thousand dollars on the American. Then, with eager anticipation, I went and found my seat. The room was massive, and very modern, and a lot of money had gone into the facility. The blue mat had a big circular symbol of white letters, and the big "FC" stood out. There was an intensity in the stands to, and while it wasn't a huge audience there were several hundred of us in attendance. I glanced around, and most of the members were Arab or of European background, and in fact the only other American looking guy I could see was a fat slob of a man sitting five rows up and over to my right. I recognized him, vaguely, and it occurred to me that I had seen his picture in some magazine. He owned a company, that much I knew, but which one I had no idea. He was fat, and I imagined him with a little cock and tiny balls, although whose to say? At any rate, he was excited, and was slurping down a beer and working on a hot dog as I looked at him. My seat could not have been better. Of course, I had paid extra for it, but I figured if I was going to fly all the way across the ocean to watch the bout, I wanted to SEE the thing. I was right beside the mat , less than a foot from it really, and if I reached out and leaned over it would even have been possible to touch it. I was also only a few feet away from the big set of stocks, where the loser would be taken for his gelding. As I stared at the big blocks of wood, just waiting for a neck and wrists to be clamped in place, my cock stirred. I was right there, and just off to the side, so that I would be able to see every single thing that would take place there. I was sweating, and I realized that the ring was warm, although it wasn't stifling or anything like that. I looked at the man next to me, and smiled, and then I said "This should be a good match! They've definitely got it a little warm in here though." He grinned, and said "YEAH! It makes their balls hang low for their gelding!" He grinned really wide then, and I looked away, embarrassed for some reason. Everyone was excited, and there was an intensity in the place that was different from any other pre-fight audience I had been in before. I think there is something about watching a gelding that excites men, as long as it's not their own balls getting swiped with the knife. A horn sounded, and then out came an announcer. There was a thunderous applause, and lots of yelling and cheering as things got underway. He gave the expected welcome to the Fight Club litany, and reiterated the rules of the match. Right away it was quite apparent that the rules of the Fight Club would loosely follow the Freestyle wrestling protocol, although there would be no points awarded, as points alone could not decide a match. The match could only be decided by a pin, and for the Fight Club, a pin duration had to reach five seconds. I had wrestled a long time ago, in high school, and I remembered how hard it was to pin a guy. And that was when the only thing at stake was your pride. Yeah, a five second pin was going to take a lot of effort, and with their balls on the line I didn't figure it would happen easily. The timing for the Fight Club was a little different than a single five minute match, and when the announcer discussed the timing protocol the crowd went crazy: "This fight will continue in five minute periods, with thirty seconds between periods, indefinitely until one of the fighters is pinned for a duration of at least five full seconds. Once that occurs then a winner will be declared and the loser will receive his just due. He will be humiliated while you watch, and after he has been dominated by his winning opponent, then he will be unmanned by him before your eyes." As he said the last word, the crowd went wild and the entire room exploded with the excitement his words had generated. It was clear what we were here to see, and it was obvious what the draw of the event was. I smiled at the man on my left, and he grinned, then looked back to the ring, his eyes eager and his lips wet with anticipation. As he did, he dropped his right hand to his crotch, and as I watched he subconsciously grabbed his bulge there and shifted his cock, which was obviously restrained as it tented out his pants. A giant television screen on the far wall illuminated, and the house lights dimmed. They had a great sound system in the place, and as we all watched a movie filled the screen, with lots of hot music and pictures of young men fighting one another. It was much like a music video, with clipped images from various bouts, and with a different fighter in every clip. They had a mixture of close ups in it, with the expressions of the men as they sweated and fought each other to the music. This went on for about ten minutes or so, and then they started showing the pins, one after the other, which led to scenes of the losers as they locked down into the rack. The movie ended with some close-ups of the knife, and then of the men's nuts hanging between their legs, with flashes of their expressions, eyes wide, as they were gelded one by one. The movie didn't show a single slice, but it showed the loser's expressions as it happened, and it ended with a young fighter prancing around the ring, the balls of his opponent clearly in his hand. When the music faded away and the movie ended, the crowd was at a fever pitch and the excitement in the place was intense and palatable. Then, there was another roar, and the two fighters came down the aisle, their arms raised and the crowd cheering them on. As they entered the ring, I stared at them. Both of them were powerful young men, with every muscle within their singlets bulging. Tim, the American, was a lot more buff than his picture had given him credit for, and he struck me as a tank of a man, solid, with a body that had been chiseled to perfection. He was a big man, and strong, and while he was only nineteen he looked a little older than that to me. The bulge in his singlet seemed to define him as a man, and you could just make out the short curved tube that was the home for his locked up cock. His face was grinning, and if he had any fear he didn't show it. I liked his freckles, and his red hair. Almost like a grown up "Happy Days" kid. To me he looked like a college wrestler, although he was a little on the tall side. He certainly seemed confident though, and he struck me right away as the man who was going to win. The Russian boy, Borris, might have been eighteen, but he was shorter than the American, and when they were standing next to each other it was very apparent. He was a stocky young man, with big muscles and he too had obviously been working out extensively, but my first inclinations were that he was more of a high school looking lad than a college type. He had a cute, almost baby face, although he held it in a pretty serious expression. His crew cut somehow fit him. His singlet was skin tight, and it displayed his muscles, and his little nipples were like points poking out the material. The bulge in his crotch was apparent, and you could easily make out the lines of the polycarbonate chastity cage that was holding his entrapped cock. They had him dressed in a red singlet, which was different than the one he had been photographed in for the pamphlet I had been given. I wondered if the red and blue colors of the two rivals were an accident, or were intentional. The Match Begins The referee brought out the two fighters to the center of the ring, and checked their fingernails, then ran his hands along their arms to check their skin, I suppose. Then he looked at their faces, and after checking them closely, then he backed away, and as he did the fighters crouched down, and faced one another. My heart began to pound. One of them was going to lose his balls! Just the idea of that seemed incomprehensible, but here I was, and there they were, and it was all about to happen. I figured the Russian didn't have a chance. But I was wrong. Then the Russian looked at his opponent and said "Hey, American----get ready to kiss your balls goodbye." The whistle blew, and the two fighters lunged at each other, the Russian kid so fast he moved in a blur. He grabbed Timothy's legs at the thighs and drove him hard and fast backwards, and as he did he took him down. The American hit the mat on his back, really hard, but he instantly spun to his stomach, and the Russian was on him like a duck on water. He slammed the American back to the mat , stomach down, and then tried to flip him over. The American spun around, trying to escape, but the Russian anticipated the move and grabbed one of the American's long legs, and used it like a lever to flip him upward. With his leg over his shoulder the Russian boy drove into the American hard, sliding him across the mat as he levered him over onto his back. God! I thought he was going to pin him right then and there, and he might have even, yeah, he might have, except that he pushed him so hard that they went to the edge of the mat and the whistle blew. Man it was intense! The Russian had clearly had the control, and that really surprised me. The two men were directed back to the center of the mat , and Tim went down on his hands and knees, placed in the referee position, also know as 'par terre.' He was the bottom wrestler, with the Russian over him, the left hand of the Russian gripping the left elbow of the American. The two stared at the referee, poised to move. Everyone was screaming. I too added to the din, yelling for the American to get his shit together. God. I had five grand riding on him, and so far he had not impressed me. At the blast of the whistle the American swung his left leg under his right, moving himself into a sitting position, attempting to escape the hold that Borris had. Borris tried to counter the move, but the American was strong enough to spin around, completing the escape. They both jumped to their feet, again facing one another, and I, along with everyone else screamed with the excitement. Borris lunged again, grabbing the American's thighs, and for a second I thought he was going to drive right into him once again. But Tim picked him up, lifting his feet right off of the mat, and spun him around in a belly to back move. He jerked him the other way then, and slammed him down, into the mat, where he pounced on him like he was made of glue. The Russian grunted, and spun around, but the American had the upper hand, and the two strained then, just grunting, the American trying desperately to turn the Russian over exposing his back. He slid a hand under the Russian's neck, and used it as a lever to try and turn him. I stared....hoped. My heart pounded. The Russian slowly seemed to be overpowered by the lever move, and with his eyes wide I saw for a second pure terror register on his face. The American flipped him then, so the eighteen year old was on his back, and as soon as he did the American slammed his full body weight to the Russian's chest then, pushing him down, down, DOWN. Borris twisted his body, trying to lift his shoulder blades, to somehow keep them from touching the mat. The American pushed harder, with every muscle straining, and Borris's back went into the mat. The ref was down on the mat too, looking, his head staring as the space under his shoulders disappeared. He held his hand down next to the mat, making the count and waiting to slap the mat to signify the end when he hit five. ONE---TWO....but the Russian jerked his entire body, straining with every muscle he had, and in doing so he managed to arch his back then, lifting his entire back off of the mat with the muscles of his neck and the muscles of his feet. I was staring right at them then, staring straight into the Russians crotch, seeing the outline of his chastity device and the manhood it contained as he pushed it high in the air in his desperate attempt to keep from being pinned. The American was still trying to push him downward, laying his full weight onto him, and the Russian's muscles were quivering as he struggled to prevent what seemed unpreventable. I stared at his legs, straining, and I could see the sweat there, soaking through his singlet. I was staring at his crotch, staring at where his balls were, and wondering if he would soon be losing them. The whistle blew, and the five minute bout ended, and just in time for the Russian. Damn! The five minutes had passed in an instant. Oh GOD it was so intense. My heart was pounding, and as I looked at the two fighters, taking their thirty second rest, I could tell they were both gasping for air. The sweat just seemed to be pouring out of their bodies, and I was close enough to smell their musk and to feel the essence of their masculinity. They were two powerful and strong men, and their bodies defined the male experience. The referee brought them back to the mat, and this time it was the Russian that was placed in the bottom as the two wrestlers got into the "par terre" position once again. This time Borris was on his hands and knees, and Tim had his left hand wrapped tightly around the left elbow of the young Russian. I smiled. It was good to have my man on top, in the position of control and I hoped that he could do something with it. Then, with another short blast of the whistle they were at it again. The Russian reached back with his right arm, and hooked it around the elbow of the American, and then with a leveraged pull he just jerked Tim right over him, rolling him over and right onto his back. The American had that look of surprise, and he tried to spin over and onto his stomach, but Borris was oh-so-fast, and he slammed the American into the mat as he made the move. Then, he quickly grabbed a leg and for a second time he began lifting it to the ceiling. The American spun to his stomach, but his leg was twisted, and the Russian leveraged it, twisting it so hard that the American was brought back until he was facing the ceiling again. To keep his shoulders off of the mat, Tim threw his arms behind him then, holding himself up, trying to stay seated while the Russian pulled his leg even higher. I leaned forward in my seat, glancing at the clock. Four minutes to go. Damn that was a LOT of time! Borris grinned, and grabbed the other leg of the American, and then crouched down to give himself more leverage. Then, as we all watched, he just picked them both up and lifted them hard, spreading them apart as he lifted them upward, folding the American in half almost, his legs going high into the air and up, up, up and over his head. Timothy's eyes went wide, and in that instant his arms collapsed, unable to hold himself up against that much pressure on his legs. He slammed down, then, his head bouncing into the mat, and a look of shock and disbelief then went straight across his face. His shoulders touched, and the Russian lifted his legs even more, pushing his feet then toward the American's ears, holding him bent doubled and now with his shoulders against the mat. The American screamed "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" as he strained every muscle. ONE TWO THREE His eyes went wider, and the entire house came to its feet. Everyone was screaming, and I was yelling too, yelling at the son of a bitch to escape, to fight, to be a MAN FOR GOD'S SAKE AND WIN HIS MATCH! FOUR Time stood still. I was staring at the power of the Russian teenager, holding the freckled-faced all American boy in a position of defeat, beating him, besting him. As I watched five thousand dollars go into the trash, my heart pounded and I was angry at my man, angry at him and his lack of ability. He had failed, failed me, and he had lost. I looked at his crotch, and had the thought it belonged to a LOSER. FIVE. The ref slammed his hand into the mat, and it was over. Suddenly, I was anxious to see my man lose his balls. Unmannig the Man The Russian jumped up then, raising his arms into the air as he pranced around the ring, pumping the air with his fist and jumping up and down with glee. As he dropped Tim's feet the American seemed stunned, the look of shock and disbelief on his face totally obvious. I don't think he could believe what had happened! At that same instant, two officials jumped into the ring and grabbed him by his wrists, and then they just flipped him over and spun him around and pulled him right over to where I was seated, dragging him across the mat like a sac of garbage. They just pulled him right straight up onto the big wooden beam right in front of me, hurrying to do it, and they didn't stop or hesitate until they had dropped his neck and wrists into the cutouts in the wood that were made for them. Then, virtually the very second they had him there, they brought the top beam down so it slammed right up against the bottom one, forming full cutouts for his head and wrists, and locking him into position then and completing restraining that portion of his body. As they locked the top beam down it made a clicking sound, and when it did the red-headed teenager totally panicked. He was less than three feet in front of me, and his eyes were wide with fear and I could see him straining to pull his hands backwards through the cutouts. He was sweating like a pig, drenched really, and his pungent smell seem to fill the air. He struggled so hard that the rack shook, and his feet went wild, as he kicked them in all directions. The two guys had some rope, and they just looped it around the nineteen year old's ankles, so that they had a short piece of rope on each foot. Then, they just pulled his struggling feet apart, wide apart, and when they did it almost seemed they were going to pull him in two. The American boy screamed and fought then, trying to pull his legs together, but the ropes were slipped over a couple of pegs in the floor and then, like a pulley, they were winched apart and then pulled forward, so that his legs were up against a second wooden beam that was there and made to accommodate them. They had his legs apart so wide at that point that the boy was on his tiptoes, and then, with his knees against the restraint bar, they brought the other half of the crossbar around so it was up against his legs from behind. Then, with another locking pin, they locked the two halves of the wooded beam in place, and after that he was pretty well trussed out and in a very vulnerable position. His knees were straight, and his buttocks was jutting up into the air, held that way. To make sure, the two men set a square cross piece under him, so that it rested right up against his hips, next to his stomach, and then they levered it upward enough to force his bottom to jut outward even more. The boy was so close to me, that I could see the fear in his eyes as this was all being done to him. He was looking all around, at the crowd of men that were laughing with glee, and the Arabs clearly had no sympathy for him. When he saw me, we locked eyes, and I smiled at him. That's when he said "Please.....please don't let them castrate me!" I didn't know what to say to him. So, I said nothing, nothing at all, and just stared at him as they trussed him out. One of the men then took something that looked like a hook, and just slipped it up to the neck of his singlet. With a single pull he slit the outfit from neck to ass, just slicing it right down the fighter's back. They continued cutting it off of him, taking the hooked blade right down his legs, one after the other, and then, to the roar of the crowd they pulled it off, and in that instant he was naked. All eyes of course went to his crotch, and where his cock was crammed into this little cage, crushed in there and stuffed inside of it, making it look insignificant and unimportant. His face flushed red. Bright red, and I laughed. Why I did I don't know, but everyone was laughing, laughing at the loser and his shrunken manhood that was stuffed into its cage. One of the men picked up a grease gun, and shoved it up the American's ass, pumping the handle and filling his rectum with sexual lube. As it was being done the nineteen year old stared at me, the expression perhaps one of disbelief as his hole was filled with the goo. The look was one of panic perhaps, or dread, and as I looked at him it was obvious he knew that they were preparing him to be fucked. For some reason, I was looking forward to it, as was everyone around me, everyone at least except for the fighter whose ass was being filled with lube and made ready for it. Borris had already stripped off his own singlet, and was prancing around the ring, pointing at his genitals and obviously anxious to have his chastity device removed. He was jumping up and down, like an eager kid, obviously proud of his body and anxious to dominate his losing opponent. He kept raising his fists in the air too, making the sign of victory as he waited for the loser to be made ready for him. One thing was totally obvious. The Russian kid was so eager his cheeks were flushed red with his excitement. They rolled out a big mirror, that was six feet high, and placed it directly behind the teenager's bottom. Then, as I watched, one of the men picked up what had to be elastrator pliers, and while he was working on them the other man took a key and slipped it into the padlock on the loser's chastity device. As he was unlocking him, the American said "Oh.....don't.....oh....leave it locked please!" For those of us that heard it we burst out laughing. Leave it locked? Shit. There was no way anyone wanted his cock left in its cage, and besides, they needed to get to his balls and with the cage in place that would have been much more difficult. The polycarbonate cage was slid off of his cock, and the ring behind his nuts came off next. It apparently is a hinged ring, and once the padlock is removed its possible to open up the ring and take it off his nuts. As soon as they freed his package, his cock started to grow, and within seconds it seemed it was up and eager, almost as if the nineteen year old was anxious to be nutted. It was fully hard, and his nine inch cock seemed to bounce up and down, bouncing to his heartbeat as if it was looking for a woman. Leaning over, I had a good look at his package. His cock was circumcised, and jutted outward from his reddish patch of pubic hair, and his balls were hanging down then, hanging down loose and swinging beneath his legs. He had big balls, really big ones, and as I looked at them and contemplated their fate it somehow seemed appropriate. He should have fought harder, should have beaten the Russian. Hell, the winner was just a kid really, and this idiot had failed himself as far as I was concerned. Yeah...he had failed HIMSELF, and me of course, and now that I was out five grand it was good he was going to be out his balls. Just then the man with the banding pliers walked around in front of the man waiting for them, perhaps to let him have a glance and to see the ring of rubber that would start his unmanning. I don't know why he did that, but the trussed out and defeated fighter sure noticed them! As the man walked in front of the loser he opened the pliers by pressing the lever, so that the castration band was spread apart, obviously in preparation for being placed over his scrotum. As he saw that happening, Tim panicked. He started shaking in his restraints, and was jerking his entire body so hard that the apparatus that was restraining him shook with him. He was trying desperately to pull his legs together, to protect his scrotum from what was coming, but the reality was there wasn't anything he could do at this point. One of the men working on him grabbed his balls, and pulled down on them, hard, pulling his two stones down and making sure they were in the bottom of his sac. As that was being done to him Tim screamed, and his eyes went wide and then he started to babble. "Oh...NO! Please.....don't....don't band me! DON'T BAND MY BALLS!" He started trying to hump the rail then, his hips and ass slamming into the cross beam, swinging his balls in a desperate attempt to keep them away from the man who was after them. The man dropped his nuts, and picked up the banding pliers from the other man, and then he carefully slid them over the swinging sack. He worked it up, high, so it was near his body, and as I watched he then pushed on a lever and the little band snapped off the hooks and constricted the top of his sack. "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" the loser yelled, bucking his hips in a wild attempt to shake it off. Boy, he did not like getting his balls banded! No, he did not like it at all. "SHITTTTTTTTTTT. Oh...OH MAN...that FUCKING HURTS!" As he struggled, the man reloaded the pliers and then slipped them once again up and over Tim's dangling scrotum. The young man felt it being done to him again, and he shook then like a mad man, shaking in his desperation and scared to the core to feel it be done once again. It was long, and then the second band came off the pliers with a SNAPPPPPPPPP sound, closing his scrotum like a drawstring on a leather purse. "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OH FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!. Get THEM OFF...GET THEM OFF OF ME!" "PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" he yelled. The crowd laughed. The Russian laughed too, and as I looked at him he was behind the loser, staring at him as he was being banded, his own prick out of his cage now and jutting up and eager. The Russian lad was dripping a string of goo out the end of his dick, and it was obvious he was eager and his cock was drooling with the anticipation of finally getting its relief. From the pamphlet I remembered the last time he came was six months ago, when they had restrained him and jerked his pole, capturing his sperm to be sampled and analyzing his manhood. No wonder he was so eager and his cock was jutting like a piece of steel! As soon as the second band went on his nuts, the nineteen year old American went crazy, slamming his hips even harder into the beam and fucking the air like a madman. He just humped the air, thrusting his cock as if he was trying to fuck something, before he couldn't. The pain in his nuts was driving him insane, and the look on his face was one of absolute disbelief, as he lay there with his legs spread wide and feeling his nuts banded as if he was a horse being gelded. Borris reached down and stroked the skin on his cock, up and down, just giving it a couple of strokes to make sure it was hard and ready for what he was going to do with it. His pole was jutting upward at a 45 degree angle. It was rock hard, and while it was long enough to satisfy any woman, it was definitely shorter than the cock of the man he had pinned. Of course, he would be keeping his balls, and so in that since his nuts were the lucky ones, and while they werent as big as his opponents they weren't going into a jar either. Taking his Hole The Russian boy was so anxious it almost seemed funny. Perhaps it was the desire to just empty his balls that was driving him. Perhaps it was more. He seemed to want to dominate his opponent, and I don't think he could have been more anxious if he had tried. He had won, fairly, and completely, and now as he proved his manhood he would take another's. Somehow, for some reason, that just seemed fitting, and what needed to be done. Borris eased himself up to the American's ass, and reached him between his cheeks and took some of the lube that was oozing out his hole. Then he took his slickened fist and slid it up and down over his own cock, coating his pole with the lube until it glistened. The American boy felt that, felt him reaching between his legs to get some lube, and thats when he tried to turn his head to see what was happening. Of course, that wasnt' possible. Then he said: "Please.....don't do this. I don't want to be fucked like a whore!" The Russian took his hand and slapped it hard against the losers banded nuts; so hard in fact that they swung like a punching bag. The reaction was immediate. "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Oh...OH SHIT....Don't....." He did it again. "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! OK...OK........OK! STOP THAT!" The Russian laughed, and said "Beg me for my cock bitch! BEG ME FOR IT! BEG ME TO FUCK YOUR HOLE!" Then, he slapped his opponents nuts again, harder this time, flicking his hand into them and getting them swinging. After that he just popped them continuously like a punching bag, and when he started that it didn't take the loser long to figure out what words needed to be said to stop the onslaught into his super sensitive and recently banded manhood. "OK........YEOWWWWWWWWW. OK...OK DAMNIT. DO IT...JUST DO IT....OK...FUCK MYASS HOLE....YES.....PLEASE, FUCK MY HOLE!" Borris laughed, along with the rest of us, and then as we all watched the eighteen year old pushed his eager cock into his opponent's rectum, sliding it in until he had buried every single inch of it. When he was into him to the hilt, Tim grunted, and his face went red with the shame of what was being done to him. His nuts of course hurt so damn bad, and now, with his hole being fucked he must have felt like a worthless whore. I was right there, seeing it all, and as the Russian boy slammed his cock in and out of Tim's hole I could see both of their expressions. The Russian sweated as he fucked, and he was desperate, fucking him fast and furiously and obviously anxious to cum. Judging from the way he thrust with his hips, I don't think the Russian had a lot of sexual experience. Still, he had the instinct down for fucking, and he got his cock moving and he seemed to be enjoying himself even if his technique was poor. The Russian teen seemed to be getting into it though. He reached out with his two hands and grabbed the sides of the man he was fucking, so that he could use his grip to lever his body and gain greater momentum with his thrusting. Soon, he was slamming his cock in and out of the man's hole, fucking it with a vengeance. As he was doing it, he grinned, and then he panted out "OH YEAH....YOUR ASS FEELS GOOD BITCH. IT FEELS VERY GOOD. TAKE MY COCK....TAKE IT ALL." The nineteen year old stared straight ahead, his eyes wide and his mouth open, gasping, grunting really, grunting with each thrust of the teenager's cock that was slamming into him. The Arab crowd was laughing at him, at the way one man was fucking another, owning him, besting him, defeating him, and humiliating him. For their society, the action signified far more than a sexual outlet for a Russian teen. Far more than that. It was one man over another, one man unmanning another. As far as they were concerned, the man whose hole was being stuffed with a cock was already far less of a man than anyone else that was there. The winner was fucking him deep now, slamming his cock in and out of the loser's hole like a jackhammer. Borris looked around as he was fucking, and then he locked his eyes on me, probably because I was an American. As he did he grinned, and then his eyes glassed over, and he started to grunt. When he did he looked down at the sweat on the back of the man he was fucking, and then he said :"Oh....YEAH. I'm CUMMING...I"M CUMMING BITCH. BLOW YOUR LOAD AND SHOW HOW MUCH YOU LOVE IT!" I knew he was shooting it then, his cream shooting out his nuts and pumping into the man he was fucking. He fell into him, the boys two sweaty bodies merging as one, the seed of one boy pumping into the other, almost as if he was trying to fertilize the other's bowels. I could tell Tim was trying desperately not to ejaculate, biting his lip and squeezing closed his eyes to avoid the humiliation of doing so. The Russian boy reached around him then, and grabbed the nine inch prick that was jutting there, and then he started stroking him, milking him like a cow and forcing him over the edge. "NOOOOOOOOO.....DON'T...DON'T MILK ME!!!" "OH GODDDDDDDDD!" Suddenly, they were both cumming, the two teenagers pumping out their load of goo, their six months of pent up cream jetting out of their cocks like a fire hose jets water. The American boy shot his load straight out of his cock, the younger boy milking it out of him, pumping him and forcing him to ejaculate. He came so violently that his cream shot all the way to the stands, laying out in front of us in ropes of cream. To the men watching, it was more demeaning than anything they could imagine, and they booed and yelled and screamed as Tim took it up the ass and shot his load while it happened. I don't know how long they squirted, but the Russian boy seemed to just cum and cum and cum. It had to have been a hell of a load, and in the mirror you could clearly see it pouring out around his cock and running down over his opponents banded balls. I'd guess it lasted for a good minute. In the end there was a hell of a load painted on the floor, and for the nineteen year old loser the look on his face was one of total shame. He just lay there, sucking in the air through his open mouth, staring straight into the crowd with the glassed over eyes of a man who has just ejaculated. I could sense his defeat, the loss of face, and it was obvious now that he was just waiting, waiting for the rest of it and for his gelding. Time to be Gelded: Borris pulled his cock out of his opponent's ass with a pop, and then he was grinning from ear to ear. One of the helpers handed him a knife, and it was obvious then that things were moving rapidly towards their conclusion. I had a good chance to see the knife, and looking at it caused my own cock to stir. It's hooked blade could destroy a man in under a second, and seeing it there in that teenagers hand, next to the hanging scrotum that was waiting for it, sent chills down my spine that I can't describe. I leaned forward, and my entire body tensed with the anticipation of what was about to happen. Borris slapped his hand into the banded balls he was about to take, and Tim grunted and slammed forward into his restraints. Borris said "You ready Timothy? Ready to kiss your balls goodbye?" As he slapped them again, the loser grunted, his eyes open, scared, and in a panic. He grunted even louder with the second hit to his nuts, and then he answered: "Just make it fast.....for god's sake man, just get it done and do it fast." Borris laughed. Then he took his left hand, and wrapped it around the sack of nuts he was about to steal. He started to fondle his balls then, tickling them in a way, as he laid the castration knife up against them. Then slowly, very slowly, he started to slide the blade between the two bands. As he did, he said "Nah.....not fast Timothy....I'm not about to nut you fast. You didn't fight like a man, and I sure wouldn't want you to miss the feeling of having me castrate you. No...I want to squeeze your balls hard and make sure you enjoy every minute of your gelding." I don't know exactly how hard Borris squeezed the nuts he was holding then, but I do know that the young nineteen year old fighter started screaming then, a loud, primal, piercing scream. His eyes were wide open, and he stared at me as he was being castrated. He just stared at me and screamed, and his voice cracked and still he screamed. His desperation was so intense that he just threw his head back in a total panic, rocking the restraints that were holding him and screaming continuously. His voice went so high it sounded like a woman's, and while his balls had nothing to do with that the effect was the same and the audience as a whole got a good laugh as it happened. I can't describe his scream really, but it was a primal scream, something less than a man certainly and not even quite a boy's scream either. To me, his screaming seemed to emphasize the power of one man over the other, the ultimate domination of a male. The nineteen year old man being castrated jerked and his muscles seemed to spasm as he was slowly being cut, and I could see his powerful thigh muscles tense and jerk as he fought to pull his legs together. He seemed to struggle and struggle, screaming the entire time, until, finally, FINALLY, his balls came free. Just as it happened, a single line of sperm shot out of his cock, squirting with such intensity that it hit the cuff of my pants. In that same moment, he just totally collapsed, the reason to fight and struggle gone with his balls. After that he lay like a rag doll, with all hope gone and with nothing to live for. He was unmanned. His entire body was bathed in sweat. He glistened, and his smell permeated the area. He was done as a man, and it was like his manhood was all spilled out for everyone to see. The Russian boy held up the big sack of nuts, and then he walked around until he was standing in front of the rack, so that the two fighters were facing one another. One was a man, and one was not. The neutered one was staring at his manhood in the others hand. The Russian boy from St Petersburg was grinning from ear to ear, and then, as I watched, he leaned forward, and still holing the loser's balls, he pushed them forward and held them to his opponent's mouth. Then he said: "Go ahead....kiss em.....kiss your balls goodbye Tim" And he did. After the Nutting: After that they wheeled the stand he was locked into to an adjacent room, and the winner headed off for his three days of sexual bliss with his trio of women. As for me, I didn't know what to do. It certainly had been intense, and yet, I suddenly wanted it all to be over, to go home, to relax with a beer and to contemplate what I had seen. I wasnt happy about losing the five thousand I had bet, but it really didn't matter anymore and the intensity of the fight and what had followed had been far more intense that any fight I had ever seen. I was in fact shaking afterwards, the memory of it all just exploding in my brain. I had no desire at all to fuck the new eunuch's ass, and certainly didn't want to see it being done by others. The big fat American though was on his way there, and as I saw him leaving I just couldn't even imagine that man fucking anyone, or anything for that matter. I thought about going back to the museum, but the castration I had witnessed was enough for me to see. There was my ticket to the mirrored rooms where the Russian boy was headed for his three days of fucking. I don't now. Somehow, watching his cock pumping into some pussy just didn't seem to excited me right then, and so I left the Fight Club and wondered around the city. It wasn't very long before I had had enough of that, and in the end I just headed back to the room. Linda was there, and she came to me. Funny....but I didn't want her either. I told her I was feeling low, and just wasn't into it tonight, and so I sent her away with an extra hundred, for the tip. It was my last night in the city before I flew home, and I figured I was making a mistake but her pussy was not what I needed. I tried to sleep...tried....but I kept the American teenager's nineteen year old sack of balls, hanging down, banded, with the winners load of cream running down them. The knife, the slow cut, and the scream were all filling my brain. I dozed, but didn't really sleep. About two in the morning I was laying in the bed, sweating, and then, on a whim, I picked up the phone and dialed a "4". "Hello sir, this is Amanda, from the pleasure center. What may I do for you?" I stared, not sure what to say . "Ah.....yes. Is.........is the one...what's his name? Will...yeah...that's it.....is Will available this evening?" There was a pause. I waited, breathing into the phone, not even sure what I was doing. "Yes....yes sir, he is available. Do you want him with, or without his key?" I wasn't sure of the question. Then it dawned on me. Ah...his chastity key. Of course. I answered, my heart pounding like a jackhammer: "Ah....with his key. Yes...definitely. Send the boy up, and also the key." About ten minutes later room service brought up a single silver key, which I stared at for a very long time. About ten minutes after that I heard a knock, and when I did I slid the key into my fist and hid it in my hand. Then I pressed the button on the nightstand, and buzzed my room door open. The boy I had seen at the airport walked in, dressed in a crisp white shirt and pressed dark pants, much like he was when I saw him at the airport. He was unsure of himself, and yet he came to me, closing the door. He stood on the edge of the bed, and he looked nervous. Very nervous. His blond hair radiated in the room light, and I sensed a wisp of a mustache across his upper lip. I look into his deep blue eyes, and then I ask "William, how old are you?" "I turned eighteen sir, four days ago." "Have you ever pleasured a member?" "No. It has not been allowed me." "But you know how." "I.....I hope so. I....I have been trained." "Undress, and come to me." The boy was shaking, but he took off his clothes, and as he slid down his underwear I gazed at him. He was very young, and to me he did not look like a man. He seemed oh so innocent, his chest hairless. Even his groin was devoid of hair above where his chastity device was attached. I had him raise his arms up, above his head, and the pits there were totally smooth as well, like a boy not yet on his way into manhood. "You do not look eighteen" I said. "Well, I am. They shave my hair sir, all of it. They said I can keep it when I win my first match. If I lose, then I will be castrated as a hairless boy. It is not something to look forward to, so I know I must win whenever my time comes." My heart was pounding. "Come closer. And ...tell me, when was the last time that you had an orgasm?" The boy stared at me, his face unmoving. He came forward, onto my bed, and I drew him towards me. I was laying down, on my back, with my head resting on two pillows. I drew him up, on top of me, so that his legs were apart and his caged cock was above my chest. I examined the cage, and the plastic that contained his genitals, and the little brass padlock that locked it all in place. The boy said nothing. I could since his fear. Then, I played with his cage and saw how it worked. Then I examined the smooth skin of his shaved body, and as I was doing that he finally answered me: "It's been a very long time sir. I....I have not been given the chance really. I am kept under key, and the master feels I deserve to stay frustrated until a member desires me. I've been caged for nearly two years, and I cannot masturbate." His face grimaces. I can tell he is in pain. He sees the questioned look on my face, and then he says "The cage bites my prickle sir, when I think of sex. It is designed to poke me if I try to get hard." Then the boy says "Do you want me to suck your pole now sir? I will make you feel wonderful." I slide the key into his lock, and he looks down and stares, his eyes wide with disbelief. I pull off his polycarbonate cage that contains his pole, and then I unsnap the ring behind his scrotum, removing it as well. As I feel his dick, it stiffens, rapidly, and soon it turns into a teenager's pole, the pole of a young man intense with desire, eager, the single eye of it glistening with precum. His bag of nuts falls onto my chest, heavy. They are totally smooth, and yet they are fairly large; the balls of a man and proof to me he's a teenager well into manhood. I put my hands behind his round bottom, and pull him closer. His cock twitches, up and down, and the end begins to drool a thin, transparent line of semen. I pull him closer still, and then I open my mouth and slide his pole inside, pulling him to me as I take his cock. I feel his cock expand, and he has no control. None. His eyes go wide, and they glass over, and the blue becomes even more intense. As it happens, he says "Oh...OH GOD....OH..I'M SORRY SIR...I'M CUMMINGGGG" And he does. His watery jism jets into my mouth, under pressure, and for the first time in my life I swallow the cream of human male. I drink it up, sucking his cock, swallowing his pent up teenage seed and drinking every drop of the boy's nectar. For some reason I savor it, savor the feeling, enjoying it as I give him pleasure while he still has his balls and I can. Quotes from The Fight Club's last match: "Hey, American----get ready to kiss your balls goodbye." -- spoken by Borris A., age 18, to his 19 year old opponent, Timothy R, just before his match commenced. Borris won the match, and went on to make his opponent kiss his severed balls. [winner: Match #217] "Oh.....don't.....oh....leave it locked please!" -- spoken by Timothy R, age 19, as he begged for his chastity device to remain in place, in order to stop the preparations for his pending castration. [loser: Match #217] "Please.....please don't let them castrate me!" -- spoken by Timothy R, as he begged a member to stop his castration. Seventeen minutes later he was gelded. [loser: Match #217] "OH YEAH....YOUR ASS FEELS GOOD BITCH. IT FEELS VERY GOOD. TAKE MY COCK....TAKE IT ALL." -- spoken by Borris A, age 18, and he was sliding his cock in and out of his opponents lubricated rectum, prior to castrating him. [winner: Match #217] "SHITTTTTTTTTTT. Oh...OH MAN...that FUCKING HURTS!" -- spoken by Timothy R, age 19, as he reacted to the placement of the constriction band that had just been snapped over the top of his scrotum by the elastrator pliers. Twelve minutes later he was castrated. [loser: Match #217] "NOOOOOOOOO.....DON'T...DON'T MILK ME!!!" -- spoken by Timity R, age 19, as his opponent fucked his ass and jacked his cock while doing so, forcing him to ejaculate his jism in front of the crowd. Four and a half minutes later his balls were being severed from his body. [loser: Match #217] "Go ahead....kiss em.....kiss your balls goodbye Tim" -- spoken by Borris A, age 18, to his opponent as he held the nineteen year old's severed scrotum to his lips. Timothy R kissed his own balls while everyone watched. [winner: Match #217] [Authors note: © Copyright September, 2004. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. -Nathan// [email protected]] |