Even the other intact male prostitutes out trolling the fishing grounds all came up dry. Us eunuch whores usually do better than the naturals, but not tonight. Still, even though it’s not my fault, my owner will beat me because I didn’t get paid to fuck or suck enough cocks tonight. What can I say? It’s always the same old story. A slave whore’s life just isn’t never easy nor ever fair.

So before my owner whips me unconscious tonight as he will, let me introduce myself while I still can. I am a born slave by nature. I have always been a 100% bottom and now a eunuch slave. I am the property of Master Steel who has owned me ever since he took me into captivity and cut my balls off.

I used to be one of your standard high-income conventional metrosexual execs. I had it all before my balls were cut off. Big salary in a top position for a powerful New York money firm, sleek Manhattan condo, slick foreign car, silk Italian suits, requisite beach house, frequent Caribbean and European vacations. I thought I was a master of the universe, except by nature I was really a universal slave.

I had the whole package wrapped up until the man who now owns me decided to abduct me into bondage and make me into his eunuch hole. In a single night I went from boardroom to ballroom. My life was transformed when I wandered into a gallery exhibition of his slave art. My soon to be owner had used a dozen captive-bound slaves to exhibit his powerful images of submissive perfection. I was at first overwhelmed then immediately enthralled by the wild extremes of his dominant creativity.

Seeing my obvious attraction, he smoothly engaged me in conversation and subtly suggested he could use me as a prop for his next work. As an expert master, he easily aroused my interest and in my naivete I agreed. I knew I was getting into a bondage scene and eager for it. Being a total bottom, I have always enjoyed playing out S&M scenes with other men. I expected we’d have a fun night and if lucky, hoped it might go through a whole weekend.

I didn’t realize when he took me home with him that it was his intention was to take me into permanent slavery and castrate me. Ignorant of my destiny as I was then, in hindsight I now see that I knew he was the man destined to own me and wanted to be his slave. He was to be my deepest dream come true.

I liked it when he put the handcuffs on and even more when I was switched into manacles and fetters. I was still turned on when he trussed me spread eagle on a table and started to shave my chest. However, then he turned the razor onto my head and started to shave my hair off. I immediately yelled, “NO, STOP”. He paid no attention and swept another slice of hair from my head. Enraged, I pathetically attempted to order him to stop saying I could not go into my straight job with a shaved head. He took a moment and said that wasn’t a problem. I would never be going back there again.

I panicked and started screaming for help. My cries were useless because we were in his basement dungeon and no one could hear me. He continued to shave my head and when almost done, stopped again and told me to shut up. He said he was tired of hearing me whine like a slave. I continued to resist until he took out a syringe and injected something into me that paralyzed me in minutes. I remained fully aware but couldn’t move a muscle or make a sound.

Once he finished shaving my head, my eyebrows were removed and then he cleaned off the last remaining hairs from my body. Satisfied that I was done, he stepped back and took a long look at me. With a big smile on his face, he told me how good I looked hairless. He said it was a good start and how much he was going to enjoy making many more changes to me. Mute and immobilized, I understood his intention and it terrorized me.

Then he flipped me on my stomach and raped me. Over and over he shoved his monstrously enlarged cock in and out of my fuck-hole until after more than a half dozen times he shot his cum deep into me. Some kind of leather cover was thrown over me and I heard my abductors heavy boots clumping up the stairs from the dungeon.

Hours dragged by and he did not return. Slowly the effect of the drug wore off and I began to regain feeling and ability to move, except that shackled to the table, I couldn’t. Finally after being trapped there for what had to have been a full day or more, I heard him coming back down. At this point, miserable, hoarse from screaming and drained by hours of crying; I was an emotional wreck and I begged him to release me. He pulled the cover off me, sat down next to the table I was bound to and began to speak softly to me.

He told me his name was Master Steel and from the moment he locked me into bondage that he became my new owner for the rest of my life. He said that I was his property until the day I died. My old life was over and I would suffer until I accepted that fact. Shaving me hairless was just the beginning of the modifications to me he intended to make. My hair would eventually be permanently removed. I would have a heavy chain collar welded closed around my neck. My ears, septum, nipples and cock would be pierced with rings inserted. My body would be tattooed.

And he told me that most importantly I would be castrated and as his eunuch slave, I would service his cock until the day I die. Hearing that I screamed and begged him not to. In desperation, I offered to pay him to free me with the full value of my savings, real estate and whatever else I owned, just to let me go. He chuckled and said that since now owned me, all that was already his and he would soon have it anyway. I broke down into tears and convulsions and he walked away again saying he would be back when I had calmed down and started to behave like a proper slave.

Eventually I cried myself out to exhaustion. Hours later he returned and told me my training would start then. Totally immobilized, a fat dildo was shoved down my throat and another one up my asshole. I was hung from the ceiling beam and he began to whip me. I was beaten to a pulp until the pain was so great that it no longer hurt. The lashes continued until I was reduced to begging that I would do anything he wanted if he would just stop.

He kept on going. Then the pain started to ebb and each lash of his whip turned from excruciating torture to a loving caress. I suppose that my nerves had overloaded and shut down. However in that shutdown, my resistance also failed. I didn’t understand it yet, but he was releasing the power of my core submissive sexuality. I began to feel that I loved this man and finally offered and then pleaded to myself to be owned by him. Long past the ability to fear, more than anything else I ever felt I wanted to be his slave. I needed him to take control of my life.

Once he felt my begging to be his slave for life was sincere, he stopped my beating and sat down beside me, gently stroking my raw flesh with his fingers that felt like fire. In his soft mellifluous voice that first seduced me, he said that I had made the first most important step in becoming his slave. And with his ice blue laser eyes he told me that I would come to love and worship him with my entire self and finally become his total property not just in body, but in mind and soul.

He promised that as he modified me into the slave I was destined to be, my consciousness would expand to reach levels of pleasure and happiness that I never dreamed possible. All I had to do was to release myself into his control fully and once I let go of my futile resistance, my future as his slave would be limitless.

He also told me that I would not be castrated until I begged him with my whole heart and assured me the day would come when that would become more important than my very life. With that act, that final gift of my male sexual essence, I would truly be his property for life.

During the hazy time it took to eradicate my former sense of self, my mind and body was altered to his image of what he chose for me to become. The most important modification was erasing and reprogramming my mind, which proceeded my castration. My gelding was the once in a lifetime event that sealed my irrevocable bonding to him. On taking my balls, I became and will remain his property until I die.

Master Steel is an artist and his favorite canvasses are hairless eunuchs. That’s what he decided to use me for too. Once enslaved, he started the process of modifying and training me to be gelded. In altering me into his hole-slave, he stripped me of all sense of self-dignity and self-confidence. When freed of the shackles of individual identity, he nurtured my essential slave nature through the power of captivity, pain, deprivation, fear, isolation, humiliation, terror and training for absolute subservience.

Since he took possession of me, Master Steel made drastic alterations to me. As he promised, I’m permanently hairless and tattoos cover my body. Two snakes with their heads being penises intertwine across my body. One emerges from my fuck hole, coiling up around the neck and over my head about to dive into my suck hole. The other twists down out from my mouth, back and forth circling my appendages and ends with its grossly engorged cock head trailing a necklace of barbed fishhooks ready to plunge into my fuck hole. I’ve got a dozen gold rings inserted into my piercings.

When first taken, I was placed into my owner’s slave pen with a half dozen of his hairless naked eunuch slaves. These geldings quickly became my friends and I soon got over my initial ignorant resistance to my castration. I watched him and other Masters use the eunuch cock holes for nightly frolics. Over time as I got used to living in a stable of eunuchs, I came to consider their castration normal and me still having my balls intact as the deviant.

They were all so happy with their life. My sense of exclusion became too much to handle. My body was beaten beyond endurance and my will broken leaving my sole ready to be taken. So he was right, I finally did get on my knees begging him to castrate me, and keep for the rest of my life.

A week later he cut my balls off in front of an audience of his best master friends with their naked slave properties held on leashes or chained to walls and columns of the room. After my cutting, he gave a big party to introduce me as the newest addition to his eunuch collection. It was the proudest day of my life.

I was displayed naked of course to dozens of the leather-clad masters while my cutting was healing. When ready, I was eagerly kept with his other eunuch livestock offered as for rent or sale. That began months or maybe years of me being sexually used for money. My owner took me out to the clubs displayed in the very minimal leather that would keep me from being arrested. Trotted around all night on a leash almost fully naked, he took orders to rent my two holes from the tops that became excited over fucking me or sucking them.

I am now the perfect hairless canvass he is painting the picture of his perfect slave. Before, I liked to imagine myself as a slave, but it was not until I irrevocably lost my balls that I in fact actually became a real slave. The taking control over my entire body and soul to be the property of another man through my castration was the price I paid to realize my destiny.

That was five years ago. I understand now my owner was right. Despite the fact that I was abducted without consent into this life of slavery, I would not now change a thing. I can barely recall any of the shallow gratification from my prior freedom. The burden of responsibility for me living an independent life is unfathomable today. My entire reason for existence now is solely to be his slave.

I am proud that I am a eunuch slave. I cannot imagine how I ever managed to survive before without his control. The thought of freedom now terrifies me. The confusion and anxiety of balancing conflicting outside decisions often made erroneously with their frequent bad to disastrous results has been lifted by focusing my entire life on serving my master. Where I was a slave to my freedom, I have been freed by my slavery.

Since my cutting, I have been a whore. I enjoy being a eunuch slave and love being used by men’s cocks. I think my owner makes a profit on his investment in me as his slave. I know I don’t cost much to keep. I only wear my leather so he doesn’t have to buy me any clothes. He only has the basic costs of feeding and I guess an allocation for housing me his slave stable. Plus subway fare for transportation to service masters and occasional airfare for my long-distance rentals.

This is my life now as long as I live. He owns me. I am his property. My purpose to exist is solely for him to use and serve his needs, pleasure and profit. With him being a responsible owner, I am kept properly maintained to maximize my income producing potential. However the residual sense of loss from the absence of emotional nurturing is a deficiency that remains to be expunged. I look forward to the day when that last remnant of my former humanity has been fully purged and I will be the object I am.

The painful part of the life I exist in is that soon after he cut my balls off was the last sexual use he has himself made of me since. Once I was added to his inventory of eunuch whores, he wanted me for no other use. I had deluded myself to think I was special. I was devastated when I finally understood that I was nothing more than another investment for him. I can’t complain however, this is what I always wanted.

Ultimately, as his income from me decreases, I will probably be sold. Maybe that new owner will keep me or I might be passed along again and again to other men. The one thing I am certain of is that for the rest of my life, I will always be someone else’s property. So this is my life as I want and so it should be.

I became exactly the kind of hole-slave we wanted, a human dildo.