The Poker Club

Yeah....it's true. All of it. I was in the Poker Club, and during the months I played with them I was good and made a name for myself. But that's skipping ahead a little too far. I am about to graduate from college now, and have earned my degree, and so that time in my life is just one of those things that I just don't think about a lot anymore. Still, it was a hell of a club. Now that I've left them I've gone on to other things, and cards don't even interest me anymore. Still, it was a hell of a time too; a good time even, and without any question those poker games were the best I've ever played. Now don't look at me like I was someone evil, or did something that another man wouldn't have done. I'm not that different, and I really haven’t done anything that was that radical. Well, OK....I've done a few things, but then, haven't we all?

Yeah, yeah...the questions. I know, why would a guy take another guy's balls? And how could he get away with it once it was done? Well, I know too that you're thinking that if I cut your nuts off then you'd go straight to the police. Perhaps you would. Perhaps you wouldn't. The only way to really know what you would do for sure would leave you with a wet noodle between your legs, hanging their lifeless and dead and not really much worth having after that. So, well, don't judge me. You have no idea.

Two years ago it happened. I was twenty, and cocky as hell, a college stud who fucked the girls and was having the time of my life. I've got bright red hair, with freckles on my face, and I was built and had that perfect body that all the girls crave. I liked to lift weights, and while I wasn't big or really muscled, I was well-toned, with a firm body and a flat stomach that was laced with horizontal lines. I was proud and I liked to show it off and use it to get the girls.

The poker games all started out innocently enough. They were just Friday night poker games in the dorms. We bet little stuff really....a few coins and crap like that. Once we bet our baseball caps, and another time we bet swats with a paddle. All normal, college stuff, except well, that as I played these games I got addicted, and kept wanting to up the stakes and play for something more. I just felt this tremendous rush when I was holding the cards, keeping my expression solid when I held them in my hands. I knew when to hold, and when to fold. Soon I was winning a lot more than I was losing.

Now, it takes money to play the game, and while I never had a lot I did have some. I had managed to save a little money left from my summer job, and my father gave me pretty much anything I wanted. Not only did he pay for school and books and the dorm too, but he also gave me a few hundred dollars of fun money each month. Now, it's not that my parents were rich, because the opposite is true. My dad was a fireman by trade, and we never had a lot of money because he didn't make shit. He was a good man though, and he taught me first aid and how to put out a fire. And he pushed me to college, so I could get ahead and "be somebody." He was generous with what little he made, even if it wasn’t much. Still, what he did make he spent on me and my mom.

All in all I had it pretty good. I drove an old pickup truck he had bought me when I was a senior in high school. It wasn’t much, but it ran, and it didn't eat the gas too bad. So, I had enough dough to play poker, and I blew what I didn’t bet on poker chasing pussy. I was on top of the world, without a care in the world. I had everything going for me. I blew whatever cash my dad gave to me each month on chicks and parties and cards and lived the college life. I really wasn’t in college for the studying, and my grades weren't the greatest. But I was having fun and so what-the-fuck. The girls were hot and there were lots of them and I fucked them regularly.

I don't know when I found out about the Poker Club....just not sure when really but I heard about it and I was curious as hell. It was rumored to be so secretive that you had to have an invitation, and the more I inquired around the less I could find out. Meanwhile, our own dorm games were getting bigger, with lots of students showing up for them. I got a reputation, and I deserved it. I was good. I could count the cards, know what was out and what wasn't, figure the odds in my head and make guesses that won me money. I also learned about the tricks of betting, where you can win a game even if you don't have the cards to do it. All you really have to do is to out bet your opponents, and if you can get them to throw their cards then you of course win anyway, even if your own hand is shit. You know, that’s the thrill and the secret to the game, and yet most of the guys that play have no idea what they are doing. They are so stupid that they think they have to have the cards to win.

But you don't have to have shit, not every time, and nobody does either. But if they THINK you do it’s the same thing, and so that's the trick of course. So, if you can figure them out, the guys you are playing against, read their expressions and figure out what they are holding, then you can even win when they otherwise would beat you. I was good at the bluff, and I got away with it more than I didn't. My favorite trick is to throw down a big bet they can't cover....and so they stare at you and fold....even though they are pretty sure they could beat you if they stayed. I never showed my cards when that happens, so they never knew for SURE, and I got good at keeping the expressions and making the faces that won me the games. As any true poker player knows, it's not the cards that are really important, at least, not as important as the bluff and the stare and the little grin you make before you make your bet.

Anyway, like I said, I was good and I slowly over time became the dorm champ. Then, after a particular hot game one weekend, where I sucked out some $500 bucks from my buddies, this man came up to me in the student union and said "I hear you're a hell of a card player." He was almost twice my age, with grey hair on his temples, and I took him for a college professor. Well, it went from there, and then, almost before I knew it, I was invited into the Poker Club and that's when things changed.

The Club met on Saturdays, once a month, in an old warehouse on the edge of town, down near the industrial center. It was sort of creepy in a way, but I didn't care about the sleaziness and I just enjoyed the cards. The players were all a lot older than me, with the youngest in his thirties. They were big men, powerful men, and yet they didn't talk about what they did or who they were. Instead, they talked about poker, and how much they liked the game. I liked them in a way, because I liked the game, and they joked around and we shared stories. They were always asking about my last fuck, about the young college girls and their shaved pussies. Yeah, we had a lot of fun and I loved telling them what being a college stud was like. They were pretty old, and yet I could talk to them, and they always seemed interested.

The card games we played were very intense. For one thing, there weren’t any limits in the games we played, and even though I didn't have a lot in the bank when I started the first game netted me some real money and within a month I had almost five thousand dollars. You played these games with chips, and you could have as many as you wanted. Of course, after the game was over, you needed to pay up what you had lost so generally speaking the pot didn’t get that big. Generally speaking. But, I didn't lose very often. Of course, one rule, as in any poker game, is that you can never bet more than have. That wasn't a problem for me, and everyone always paid up.

I was winning more and more, and so my account grew over time. And of course, the more games I won the more I had I could bet. They seemed to like me even so, even though I was taking their money, and we had some good games together. For the most part, they were good players, but I was better and I think they knew it. Or, at least I remember thinking that way. Now, looking back of course, I'm not so sure they would agree with me. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway at this point. Regardless of the reason, soon I had won quite a bit of money. Yeah, month after month I started winning, putting the money in my account and watching it grow. It wasn't long before I forgot the dorm games altogether, as they weren’t worth my time, and so instead I just lived for the Poker Club and soon I was a regular. Then, well, it just slowly got out of hand and that’s when it happened and the razor came out.

I'll never forget that night. I hadn't started out doing that well. By the time the night was late, and the evening was almost over, I had lost about six thousand dollars. Still, I had twenty in the credit union, so it wasn't that big of a deal. It was the last game, so we agreed to up the ante to make it interesting. The cards were going out, with the initial ante of a grand each on the table. I figured it was time for my luck to change. Anyway, there was one ace out already, with three left in the deck. A pair of kings and queens had gone in the trash on the first round, and one jack too. That didn't leave a lot left in the deck. I wanted to win, bad. When they dealt out the hands I knew the card count was down, and the odds of getting anything good for any of us wasn't that great. Then, almost from nowhere, I got dealt three aces....along with a three card and a seven of spades, and my heart started pounding as I fought the smile. Wow.

I bet three thousand bucks, but acted cool, just sort of pretending that I was betting high because it was the end of the night and we'd all be leaving soon. That’s a lot of money, even for the Poker Club, but a five spot had been bet once before so it wasn't totally unheard of. I was hoping it wasn't too big. The trick in poker is to draw them in, to make them stay and pay and of course that's the key to winning big. So, well, three grand was a big bet, but not that big, especially for the end of the night. As luck would have it they all three stayed. They matched my bet, and with the ante's on the table that put sixteen thousand in the pot, and that’s nothing to sneeze about.

Well, I dropped the three spot and the seven and picked up two more cards. The guy on my left took two as well, and the third guy took one. The dealer took four more, the most he could, so it was obvious he didn't have crap. When I looked at my own cards I almost shit my pants. They were both queens, the last two in the deck, and with the FULL HOUSE and the three-ace anchor I had the best hand of my life! God...I never cracked a smile, and instead, looked disappointed, just for a second. Then, after I let them catch that look, I looked up and gave them my poker face and made them think I was faking a smile. The ruse worked, I could tell. I was hoping they would think I had nothing, and was now trying to cover it up.

It was my turn again, to start off the bets, and so I dropped a five chip and laid it on the table. Five thousand dollars. The guy to my left called me, but not immediately. Everyone was looking at me. I knew what they were thinking....that I was trying to bluff them gone.....win the pot by scaring them off. The next guy threw in his cards and folded, but the dealer stared and hesitated. Finally, slowly, very slowly, he looked at me...stared at me, and then he squinted his eyes. Then, almost like he was trying to figure me out, he called my five....and then, then he raised me, raised me ten thousand dollars!

I stared at the dealer. He stared back at me. The guy on my left tossed in his cards, and that left just the two of us, the dealer and me, eye to eye, staring at each other and trying to figure out who had what. Then he said "You don't have shit." I swallowed, pretending to waiver. I had him. I had him, and if he was going to play big and try to win by making me run, he had picked the wrong hand to go against and the wrong guy to try that with. He had taken four cards, and I figured the best he had was a straight, or perhaps even a flush, but more probably three of a kind. It was my lucky day! I smiled.....then I slowly picked up the chips and slid them to the center...matching his ten. Then, I added two more blue chips, notching things up another ten thousand dollars. My heart was beating so fast I couldn't even think straight, yet I kept my face and never smiled. And then I said "You better have the money if you make the bet."

There was over sixty thousand dollars on the table at that point, and it would cost him ten thousand more to see my cards. He looked at me, and I saw his Adams Apple move. He swallowed, scared, and the sweat on his face was visible. I had bet nineteen thousand dollars at that point....virtually my entire credit union account, and yet I knew I was going to win and so it really didn't matter. Besides, I had won most all of it from them in previous games, so the money was mine to wager. Still, it was intense, way out of hand, and yet I had it won and I waited for him to fold or to make the call.

He answered me then: "Well.....yeah....and so had you. If you don't have the money you are betting your balls." As he said that, he called my bet with two blue chips, and then, hard as it is to believe, he added three more blue chips to the pile! The guy to my left said "FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

I couldn't believe it. God. Another fifteen thousand dollars in the pot! I hadn't expected him to raise me, and now I'd have to match his bet to win the game. Well, hell, I had a full house for God's sake and I knew he was bluffing. And there was no way in the world I was going to fold. Man....I was shaking though. I forced a smile then, the game all but over, and I said "Well Henry....that's a hell of a bet." I picked up three more blue chips out of the hopper....and then I said, as a kind of comeback, "I think you're the one that's gonna be paying......so like I said, you had damn well better have the money. Otherwise, it's your balls--not mine." As I said that, I laid the three chips down on the table, calling his bet. As I did that, I flipped over my cards, and showed him my full house. When he saw it, I grinned, staring at him, feeling on top of the world as I watched his face and looked for his eyes to pop out of his head.

Only he didn't change his expression. He didn't even frown. He didn't smile either. He didn't gasp. He didn't do anything. Instead, slowly, very slowly, he just turned over the first of his cards.

A ten of spades.

I looked at it, staring at him and trying to sense his thoughts. But he never moved, and his expression never changed.

Then he turned over the second one.

A two. A duce. Also spades.

So, he had a straight or a flush. I smiled.

And the third one. Another two. A pair.

His straight was in the toilet and so was the flush.

I laughed then, grinning from ear to ear. So, he hadn't had shit.

He turned over the next card, and it was also a two. He smiled then for the first time.

I stared.

Suddenly, I felt warm...very fucking warm.

So, it was a two as well, three of a kind. He had one more card to go.

Time stood still, and my heart started to pound. He stared at me. I stared back...my mouth so dry I couldn't even swallow. Then, he turned over the last card, and suddenly I wanted to vomit. God. It was also a duce...a fucking duce! The fucker had a quad...four of a kind, and his fucking little shitty two's had wiped out my full house. While the odds of that hand were infinitesimally small, especially with his four card draw, nevertheless he had it and I had lost!

I stammered.

FUCK.

SHIT!

He was grinning from ear to ear now.

With the six I already owed, I now owed forty thousand dollars. FORTY THOUSAND! God. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Henry looked at me, and then he said, I want it by Monday afternoon. You had better have the money kid. I stammered. Then I said, "Henry....shit.....I....I don't.....I mean....I'll get it. I'll get you the money. It's gonna be a while though...I....I only have twenty in my account."

The other two guys stared at me, the anger on their faces. Henry wasn't smiling now and his anger was real and intense. He looked at me and said "Yeah....twenty ain't gonna cut it. Nobody skips out in the Poker Club. Nobody. I'd suggest you call up daddy, sell your wheels and find the money somehow. You're gonna pay me dude, or I swear to God I'll have your balls. And I mean it!"

With that, he got up to leave. Just before he walked out the door, he said "Saturday....be back here Saturday at two P.M., and don't be late! No matter what! I'll be waiting right here for the money."

There was nothing I could do. I went to the credit union...and they laughed at me when I tried to get a loan. Hell, I didn't even have a job. I finally called my dad.....told him, told him the story because I had no choice. I needed more money, but he didn't have it, or if he did he wouldn't give it to me. I needed twenty thousand from him...but instead, I got a lecture. He told me I was blowing school, my grades were shit, and that I just took his money and played with it. He had zero sympathy for me. None. He said he had warned me many times not to gamble. And he emphasized that there was no way he was going to let me have the rest of my college money to pay off some stupid poker game. He said that it was all the money he had saved and he and mom and scraped it together to send me to school. He said I needed to work on my grades and stop playing cards. He said if I didn't think my education was important then I didn't deserve one. He then made it crystal clear to me that this was my problem and I had better solve it on my own.

I begged him. I even cried. But he wasn't changing his mind. He said I was twenty years old, and that I wasn't a kid anymore. Then he suggested that I go to the guy I had lost to and make a deal, to "work it out" as he had said. Finally, he ended the conversation with "Perhaps you need a job. If you have time for poker games, you have time to work. Yeah...get a job and get your grades up. And stop screwing around and playing games!"

God. I felt like shit.

I asked around the dorms but nobody had any money they would loan me. Saturday came way before I was ready, and I knew I had to face him and make a deal. I reminded myself that I'd graduate in two more years, and I'd be making good money after that. Perhaps he would wait until then. I took a shower, and cleaned myself up. I put the title to my truck in my backpack, and then I went to the credit union and took out all the money that I had. I would have gotten a check, except that I didn't know Henry's last name. So, I took it out in cash...which turned out to be a bigger deal than I had thought it would be. I tried to explain it away, but I figured they were thinking it was for a drug deal or something. Still, whatever they thought, I eventually got the money, but it took a lot longer to get than I had thought it should take. After I got the money I had to hurry, and even so I was about ten minutes late getting there. I was hoping that being late wouldn't piss him off any more than he already was.

On the way I had tried to go over my options as I drove like a madman to get there. Well, he'd just have to be patient. I was a college student for God's sake. I had the money in my backpack and all I could hope for is that he'd be reasonable. I sure didn't see any point in trying to run, and while I knew he'd be pissed I also was pretty sure all the talk about taking each other's balls was just that. Talk. The best thing for me to do I thought was to show up and work it out. I really didn't know how to get a hold of any of them anyway...the Poker Club was pretty secretive about its members and I only knew them by their first names. When I reached the warehouse I didn't see any cars, and my heart started to pound. Had I missed them? God. I thought for a second I had missed them, and I didn't know what to do. Hell, I was only ten minutes late, but it sure looked quiet. Anyway, I went inside, to see if anyone was there, and he was and that was a relief because I knew we had to talk this out. Henry was sitting, all by himself at the table we used for playing the game on Saturday nights.

He was sipping a beer. He looked up, and said "Good thing you came. I didn't want to have to go and find you and I was thinking you had run. I don't like being made to wait."

I stammered. I opened my backpack and took out the money. Laying the cash on the table, I said "Listen Henry....here's twenty thousand. It's all I have right now. I'm not running anywhere; I'll pay it up. I swear!" I laid the money on the table, and then I said: "I'll give you more soon, but I've got to get a job. My dad won't give me anything."

He looked at me, and his eyes glared. Then he said "You owe me forty thousand, not twenty. This isn't gonna cut it kid."

I said "I..I know. I know. I'll get it....but you gotta give me more time. Listen, here...here is the title to my truck. It's all I have...."

"I don't want a fucking ten year old truck. I want my forty thousand."

As he said that, he stood up, and I stared at him. He was looking at me, angry, and I didn't know what to say. I tried again. "Listen...I graduate in two years...I'll be making good money then. I'll pay you--I swear!" He glared at me. Then he said: "I'm not watin two fucking years kid. Then I said back to him: "Well, you'll have to! I don't have it! I DON'T HAVE IT DAMN IT! YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT!"

I turned around then, to walk out, and that’s when I saw them. There were the other two guys, and they were there, blocking the exit, staring at me as I stared at them. One of them had some rope. I stared at it, trying to figure it out, and as I did I realized how big they were. They looked like football players, and they were big men with muscles that rippled. I turned around and tried to make myself stay calm and to say something, but none of them were in the listening mood. Before I knew what was happening they grabbed me.

I fought like a madman. But they dragged me over to the table, where we had played our games and I had lost my money. One of them ripped my shirt...half off in the front...just tore it half open and it shredded down the front and after that it was only hanging on me. Then they were groping at my belt, and before long one of them unbuttoned my jeans...and I felt my pants being pulled down and then off. God I fought them! I struggled so damn hard, but soon I was flat on my back, on top of the table, with my wrists tied together and my arms jerked up and stretched out across the table and tied to one of the legs on the opposite side. I tried to kick them then, but soon they had my two feet and in minutes they too were tied out separately, spreading my legs, and my knees were bent and my legs were hanging off the side. They tied my ankles to the two legs of the table, and then ran some ropes around my knees, stretching my legs apart, very wide apart. As they were tying them down they pulled my socks off. After that I was only wearing my boxers, and my shredded shirt. Other than that I wasn’t wearing a thing.

I was screaming as loud as I could and begging, screaming out for help like there was no tomorrow coming. One of them stuffed my socks between my teeth, and then they put a piece of duct tape over my mouth, wrapping it around the back of my head several times until it was secured well and was holding the socks inside. I grunted and almost threw up then. With the socks stuffing my mouth I couldn't say a thing or yell for help...and after that all I could do was grunt in fear and jerk hard against the ropes that were restraining me.

One of the men said "He's a cute fucker. I like his little nips....he's got a hot bod. Look at the way his stomachs ripped. Wish I had a belly like that!"

Another one said: "Yeah....well.....he's twenty and you're not. Too bad he's straight. The kid's a girl magnet, that's for sure. I've listened to him brag about the pussies he's had long enough. Guess that's about to change...."

As he said that, he reached down and pulled off my boxers...just pulling them down my legs until they were almost to my knees. My prick was shrunk in fear, small and scared, and my balls were hanging down and oh-so-vulnerable. I couldn't believe this was happening! God...were they actually going to do this? They were talking weird too, and their sexual comments scared me to the core. I started to figure they were just scaring me, and I had the idea that perhaps it wouldn't really go where it seemed to be moving. I guess it was something to hope for.

"I love red heads" one of them said. "Look at those pubes.....God he's got a tiny cock. I wonder what the girls see in that?"

They had never talked like this before, and my eyes were so wide with fear. I pulled down, hard with my hands, but the knots were tight as shit and there was no way to do anything. I was totally helpless. I grunted in fear, begging them as I mumbled into my socks, stuffed in my mouth, but no matter what I did they didn't seem to care.

Henry walked up then and stood between my legs, almost to the edge of the table. He looked into my eyes, and then he said "Nobody bets in the Poker Club unless he can pay. Nobody." He grabbed my scrotum then, hefting it, feeling out the individual orbs within my sac. Never in my life had another man touched my balls. I was shaking, my eyes wide with fear, and then he said "What's a full sac of balls worth? I guess they are probably worth a lot to you. Well, I don't see what's so special about these. But I'm a generous guy, and so I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'll give you ten grand for each nut.....so when your sac's empty we'll call the bet even."

He had me by the balls, literally, and he was dead serious. I was struggling then like a madman, in total panic, but I was helpless and he knew it. I started shaking my head back and forth, begging him with wide eyes and in total fear. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a straight razor, and then he opened it with a click. God I was shaking so hard, scared do damn bad, and when I saw the blade I started grunting into my gag and thrusting wildly, my hips slamming up and down as I fought desperately against the rope that was holding me down. He dropped the open razor on my belly, and it went up and down there as I jerked and struggled. Then he picked up my shrunken cock.

He leaned over and spit on it....letting the drool from his mouth fall down and wet my stub of a pole. I was so damn scared! As he was doing that, spitting on it, he started to rotate it in his hand and slide the skin up and down along the length of my shaft. Even though I was in a panic, my dick started to stiffen anyway, from the intensity of the feeling if from nothing else. I stared. And then he said, as he worked my pole: "Yeah....I thought you'd get hard if I held it. You know, I ought to just nut you right now, but well, I'm gonna be nice to you and let you squirt your wad one more time before I do. Ever had a blow job from a guy?"

I stared at him, and I shook my head even harder....shaking it side to side as I begged him and grunted into my gag. God, he was gay!

He laughed. Then he said: "Well....I like sucking young men, especially red heads. And I've been thinking about sucking you for a long time now. Yeah, you are about as hot as they get. And I also enjoy the taste of a young man's cream." He leaned over me then, his mouth near my face, and then as he stared into my eyes he said: "Know this and believe what I'm saying. When you shoot your wad I'm going to steal your hot young sac of balls and collect my bet. So, if you want to keep your jewels, I'd suggest you keep your wad."

Then, he slid downward, his tongue on my chest....and he licked my nipples one after the other. He ran his tongue in little circles over each nipple, and then he blew air on them until they perked up and were pointed. Then, slowly, he licked his way down lower and lower. Finally, he reached my cock, and then he slid his tongue out between his lips and started licking my pole like a popsicle. At the same time, he reached up and picked up the straight razor that was resting on my stomach, and then he turned it up on edge. Holding it that way, he began to run it downward, scraping it along my skin below my navel. The thing was so sharp it was shaving the hair there, dry shaving me. He kept at it....shaving me....pulling the knife downward until he was dry shaving my pubic hair and taking it off in big tuffs one after the other. As he started to do that, he began to run his tongue up and down my cock, licking the end, playing with my prick with his tongue. He was good at it, very very good at it. He worked down to the base of it again, and there he gently chewed on the bottom of my cock, working the sensitive spot under my pole and above my balls. Then, again, he ran his mouth up the side of it...licking the end again when he reached it. Then, almost like a woman's pussy, he opened his lips and sucked in my pole deep inside. As soon as he did that, he began to slide his mouth up and down over my shaft, literally fucking it with his lips.

I grew rock hard in his mouth, and that seemed to excite him. With one hand he worked the razor, shaving all of my pubic hair, and with the other he fondled my balls...feeling out my testicles as he sucked on my pole and worked my sex. I had never done anything sexual with a man before, and I didn't want to now. Still, it felt good on my dick, and knowing the consequences for ejaculating I fought the feeling with everything I had. But he was good, and knew how to suck a cock, and it was immediately obvious that mine wasn't the first one he'd had down his throat.

The other two guys were giggling as he was sucking my cock, sliding his mouth up and down and up and down....working my pole like it had never been worked. God it felt so damn good! I bucked my hips to stop the feeling...but that only intensified it and the movement shoved my dick down his throat and that made him suck even harder. God. Fuck! His razor was taking my pubic hair, and it was so humiliating. But the fear was the worst of it....the fear of what was going to happen. I stared at the blade, as it shaved my pubes, knowing my nuts were next. I stared at him and the razor and the men that were watching. The feeling began to build....and I knew I would never be able to hold things off.

He seemed to sense it, and he let my dick pop out of his mouth as he concentrated on the shave he was giving my sex hair. My prick quivered, bouncing up and down, the end glistening from his saliva and the tip anointed with a bead of my precum. God I was hard! I think he wanted my red hair before I ejaculated. A few minutes went by, and then it was done and my groin was as smooth as a baby's ass. One of the men put my pubes into a ziplock bag, keeping them as a souvenir. As he did that he was grinning. Still, my hairless cock was jutting, eager even, stiff and tall and bobbing to my heartbeat as it rose up from my bald groin. My dick was jutting its full eight inches, but without my pubes I looked like a ten year old! He smiled then, and leaned over and went back down on my prick, sucking it like a vacuum cleaner.

Right away this time I felt my balls begin to boil....I was losing it. One of the other men said "He's sure hard now. Yeah.....go ahead kid....shoot your wad. Shoot your wad so Henry can castrate you!" As he said that, he reached over and grabbed my nipples, and then he started to pinch them, squeezing them between his fingers as Henry worked my pole. It was too much.

I totally lost control then, and I began to ejaculate, squirting my seed right down his throat. God. My entire body shuddered and I shot and shot and shot. My girlfriend always spits out my wad when I ejaculate, as she hates the taste. But not Henry. He greedily sucked on my pole, sucking out every single drop as his mouth milked me dry. I jerked, and thrusted into his mouth, and my entire body spasmed with the intensity of my orgasm. I had never had a feeling as intense as that one, and I'll never forget it as long as I live. At the time I wasn’t thinking it was my last wad, but it turned out it was and it’s now just a memory that I'll always have. I squirted and squirted, splashing my load into the back of his throat, dumping my load out with a vengeance while he swallowed it down. Finally, I was done...but he kept sucking me...sucking me totally dry and getting every ounce of semen that he could. Even though it was empty, my dick dry spasmed as he continued to suck on it like it was giving him nectar from heaven.

He didn't stop even then, and the tip grew ultra sensitive. I bucked my hips and grunted...screamed into the gag, the entire cock so filled with feeling that every single nerve tingled. It was way too intense. It was literally painful, the feeling so good and so intense that I couldn't stand it any longer. Still he sucked. Harder then, sucking up and down and pulling on it with the pressure of his lips. He shoved two fingers in my ass, and then he started working my prostate as he sucked my rod. Strangely, I felt the feeling again, building, a second orgasm approaching, my cock still hard and eager.

I had never had that happen, ever, and yet sure as shit after about two minutes I started to squirt again, a second load right after the first. It wasn't quite the same, but it still was intense, squirting out even more jism. I shot again and again. He was milking me, milking me dry and there was no way to stop it. He kept sucking, kept working his fingers in my ass, and he just sucked and sucked and sucked as I jerked and screamed and bucked my hips. He still didn't stop...not until my dick started to shrink even as he sucked on it. He kept sucking...kept pulling up on it, and working the tip, but nevertheless even so it was just too spent and it slowly turned into a noodle even as he sucked on it like a baby sucks a tit.

Only then, when it was totally spent and flaccid in his mouth, did he finally let it go. My dick was like a noodle then, the end red and raw, and my balls were completely empty, my last wad in his stomach. One of the other men handed him what appeared to be a thick multicolor nylon string that looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly I realized they had taken it from my boots. He took the long cord and tied it around my nuts, at the top of my sac and just where my scrotum hung from my body. As he did that, he said "We wouldn't want you bleeding to death when I collect my bet." Just as he muttered those words, he jerked the end of the cord hard, closing the knot, tight, and trapping my testicles inside the bottom of my bag.

I've never felt anything like that, before or since. God it hurt! It was so damn tight it felt like he was crushing my sac closed! Oh shit, I bucked my hips and grunted, my eyes wide with panic. I knew right then he was going to really do it. I screamed and jerked like a maniac, but he didn't care. Next, he pulled out on the long end of the string, and then, as tight as he could, he wrapped it around and around my balls.....so damn tight, right at the top of the sac and tight enough that my balls started to immediately darken. Then, satisfied, he took the short end and tied a second knot, effectively isolating my balls from my body, my sac of nuts cinched closed and now beginning to die.

I bucked my hips and grunted into my gag as hard as I could...literally screaming for mercy. Oh GOD IT HURT SO DAMN MUCH!

He picked up my bound nuts then, and his straight razor, and then he said "Well...sorry kid, but I hope you enjoyed your last wad. Your sperm was really hot, and very sweet. It's such a waste to nut you. Oh well, a bet's a bet, and so now I'm going to take your balls just like I warned you I would."

He laid the sharp steel right up under the wraps he had made with the bootlace, and then he started to saw it back and forth, very slowly. I think he wanted to drag it out, to make me feel it for a while as he was castrating me. I was screaming then, as he worked that blade, and as he was doing that he was grinning. I stared into his face, and I noticed some of my semen dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He looked into my eyes then as he castrated me, and as he was making the cut he said: "Yeah...oh yea.....this is very hot. You've got a big sack boy....a lot bigger than the other boy's I've cut. I'll always prize having it. I'll never forget you. Too bad you tried to play cards with the big boys."

My God....he had done this to others!

He looked over at one of the other two and grinned, and then he said "This is fun.....he sure doesn't like losing his balls!"

The man was grinning as I was being castrated, and he said back: "Yeah.....well, you warned him. Wonder what his girlfriend will say when she finds out?"

They all burst out laughing at that thought. As he said that, Henry started pushing the straight razor in then with greater force, much deeper, and I grunted and screamed. I threw my head back, staring at the ceiling as he cut off my balls. Suddenly I felt the blade cutting like nothing else on earth....it was a searing pain that ripped through my groin and for a second there was nothing else on earth but that blade and my balls and that blade and my balls. And then, suddenly, that all changed in an instant and after that the pain disappeared and only a dull ache remained.

He held up my sac and laughed, and said to me: "Well kid...it's a nice sac. Not sure it's worth twenty thousand, but I guess it will have to do and it will make a nice addition to my collection."

One of the other men was holding a jar, and they dropped my entire sac of balls into it, the liquid inside rising up almost to the very top. My nuts floated there, and then sank slowly to the bottom. I couldn't take my eyes off of it....he had MY balls; MY entire scrotum filled with MY testicles and now in the jar. He had literally taken my manhood. I looked down and all that was left was a wilting cock hanging limp from a bald groin, and the feeling of emptiness really can't be described. I felt so weak then, and all of my struggling ceased when my sac was stolen.

They cut the cord that had held my hands to the table, and then they left me there, flat on my back and a deep ache between my legs. I felt so violated, and now, nutless, I didn't have any idea what to do. I slowly forced myself up, and used my teeth to work out the knots, and after about twenty minutes or so I had managed to get my arms free. After that, all I wanted to do was get out of there.

I almost went to the police. The problem was that I had no idea who really had done this. I could describe them, but I didn't know their last names, or even if their first names were real. I felt so stupid, so humiliated, I really can't describe it. I knew though that I didn't want anyone to know. I know that sounds stupid, but I knew my balls were gone, and I knew there wasn’t anything anyone could do to get them back. They were gone, floating in Henry's jar like some showpiece for his amusement, part of some perverse collection of lost manhoods. God. I wanted to cry. He had taken my money and my balls. I never saw any of them again. I guess they left the area and took the club to a new location.

One thing I was certain of. I knew if my father found I'd lost my nuts for a stupid bet that he'd disown me, plain and simple. So....I decided to live with it, and that's what I did. I never went to the doctor either. I used my first aid skills and treated the wound like you would treat a really bad cut, and the first aid training my dad had taught me as a kid came in handy. I got lucky too in a way, as it never got infected and the healing of the cut was pretty smooth. It never bled. So, yeah, on that part I got really lucky. None of my friends had any idea. I just stuffed a sock in my pants, and so nobody suspected and its amazing how well that worked.

Of course, I dropped my girlfriend, and no matter how hard she tried to get me to take her back of course I never did. Hell, soon enough I wasn't even interested in her. A couple of days later my dad phoned. We had a nice conversation, and I never let on what had happened. He apologized for being so hard on me, and told me if I really needed the money he'd find it somehow and get me out of the mess, but it would be the last time. I told him it was alright, that I had worked it out with the guy, and it was all behind me now. That seemed to make him very happy. That's when he recommended that I check into Gamblers Anonymous. I told him that I had been cured of betting, but if I ever got the urge again then I would.

I miss my balls. Still, I have found a few positives. My grades made a remarkable comeback for one thing. I started studying hard, concentrating in my classes like I had never concentrated before. Poker and the parties and the pussy chasing were of no interest to me after that, and I got a job on campus and slowly started working my bank account back. One Friday night the guys tried to get me to play poker with them, and I started to go.....but as soon as I saw the cards the bile came up in my throat. I almost vomited, but didn't, and instead just smiled and changed my mind and told them I was busy.

So, now I am about to graduate and I'm glad. I wonder if I'd have made it if I still had that sac of balls swinging between my legs. I wonder, but I guess I'll never know. Sometimes I think about the Poker Club, and wonder whatever happened to it or where it is now. I'm sure they are still playing, somewhere, meeting on a weekend night and suckering some new fool into their lair. I wonder one more thing. I wonder how many others have made their bets and lost their balls.

[Authors note: © Copyright January, 2004. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. If you liked the story, please write and tell me. Thanks. -Nathan// [email protected]]