Arena

The Arena

I stood on the street corner and watched the little cabs go by. I don’t know, I mean, what made me go there and chase a ghost of a place I’ll never know. It was spring break, and I should have gone with my roommate to watch him chase the girls or hit the beaches, but I had another interest, far more pulling, and so here I was, in the middle of my spring break, and my heart was pounding. Was I really this stupid? But God, I had that feeling, and sometimes you have to go with the feelings you have. I was in Mexico, and I had found the street corner all right. Just exactly where the weirdo in the chat room had said it would be. Still, if there was a real place called “The Arena” I wasn’t sure about it, and all I knew was that I was a long way from the University of Washington, where I was a student. Still, at 22 I was young and blond and a might bit adventurous, and my hair was a little longer than it needed to be. But I’ve never just stayed mainstream, and so, perhaps, that’s why I made the trip and sought out the place that I had only barely heard about.

About two in the afternoon I spotted it for the first time, the small little cab with the rusty bumper and the letters “ANERA” on the plate. When I saw it my heart raced, and I waved in desperation but it went right by loaded full of people. Shit! I waited then, with some anxiety that I might have missed out on the one and only opportunity. Sometimes I even felt like a fool as I waited watching all the other cabs go by and standing there just for the one I had read about. But I had seen it—the car at least was as he had said it would be! Still, in the back of my mind I knew that if the Arena was real I would probably have read about it somewhere else other than the net, and yet, still, I searched out the fantasy because there were so many clues and over time I had become too interested.

It was almost an hour and a half when he came back, and by then I had had two Corona’s and had a light buzz going. I waved him down and he pulled over this time, and as he started to ask where I wanted to go I cut him off I was so anxious. Then, without any small talk and with my heart pounding, I said simply “The Arena—I want to go to the Arena!”

That caught his attention! He spun around and looked at me, eyed me up and down, and then he squinted his eye and said very slowly, “One hundred dollars amigo, all American. It’s a special place, and if you want to go there you pay the price or you don’t go.”

My heart pounded. So, IT DID EXIST! God...a hundred bucks though! I knew I should argue about the price but I didn’t. For one thing, he just struck me as someone I couldn’t bargain with. Besides, the man on the web had said this cab was the only way, the only portal for a stranger to take, and if there was another way I did not know it then. At least he hadn’t laughed! God! So, it was real then? I’ve wasted that much on other things, so, I paid. He wanted it up front, but I refused that. I was in Tijuana, Mexico, and while I might be dumb I knew enough about the barter system not to be that stupid.

He drove, and I asked what he knew, but he said nothing. Not a word. Not to me anyway. He did make a cell phone call, but he said only a single word and then he put it away and drove in silence. There was zero small talk on any subject after I had used the word Arena. In fact, other than the one word phone call, he never spoke a single word while he drove after that. Instead, he stared straight ahead, driving, and as I watched the middle of the dirty city disappear, I wondered still if I was being stupid. But it didn’t matter now; I had to know, and the twitch in my groin was too intense not to find out now if the stories were true or false. The cab was real enough, and so I rode.

After about thirty minutes we were down in an area where the tourists normally didn’t come. That was obvious. There were no sidewalk vendors selling trinkets and chess sets here for one thing, and the bustle of the city was different, and the squalor was more pronounced. I could tell I was in a manufacturing center of sorts, and the shanty town I could see that seemed to surround me was as much a part of where I was as the warehouses and factories. Finally, the cab stopped, right behind a little green car, which apparently had been waiting at the corner.

“There Senor. He will take you the rest of the way. You pay me now.”

I argued, but he pointed to the other driver and said that the green car was from the Arena, and if I wanted to go then I had better do it now. As we set parked my driver looked nervous as hell, and while I started to have second thoughts when I saw the car switch I had come too far and paid too much to turn back now. Besides, the green car seemed to be waiting for me, and so I swallowed my fear and decided to go for it.

I paid him his money, minus the tip, and then walked hurriedly to the green car. Of course, there I had to open my wallet again and I tasted a scam. Still, my options were limited. This time we settled on fifty dollars, no pesos again, and after that matter was decided then he agreed to take me to the place I wanted to go. He had one other requirement, and it was not something he would negotiate about. I had to wear a blindfold. I protested, but hell, I didn’t really mind, and while I put it on I had no idea where I was anyway so not knowing where I was going didn’t matter.

Once the blindfold was on, he started off, and another twenty minutes or so went by and then we were there. Or, at least, we were somewhere. I don’t think we had gone all that far, although it was more of a feeling than something I knew for sure. I had the thought that I might have paid a lot of money to be transported what was probably a very short distance. Still, when I removed the blindfold I was at the end of a long dirt road, and a high wooden fence blocked my view of the surrounding area. We were parked next to a large, dirty building where there was a small steel door. It was about as plain as buildings go, without a single window or outside marking that I could see, and yet it was huge and had to be somewhere near the heart of the industrial part of the city.

Still, I had my doubts. This couldn’t be it! Still, there I was and there was the building, and the driver insisted that this building and the Arena were one and the same. The building was sure real enough, and to say I was excited would have been a gross understatement. I told the driver to wait, and then I walked up the stairs to the door. As I did the driver took off, and I cussed but what could I do? The door looked like it was solid steel, but I noticed the concrete stairs appeared to be well worn. The whole place sorta gave me the creeps, and it sure didn’t look like anything I had been expecting to find. Funny, I never knocked...a small window opened in the door from instead and then through it a voice called out, asking me what I wanted. When I told him I was an American, and was looking for the Arena, I heard some rattling, and then the door opened for me and I was led inside.

They frisked me down as I passed through the well guarded entrance, and then they pointed me down a long hall where there was another metal door. They buzzed me past this second, security door, and I had the feeling the place was more like a prison than the giant thundering auditorium that had been described to me. After I went through the second door and continued to walk the noise level began to rise, and by the time I reached the end of the hall it had risen into a crescendo.

Then, almost like walking from night into day, I rounded the corner and there it was, the bright lights, the people, the seats and all the rest, and of course, that ring, the Arena! God! The noise was incredible. As I came inside it all overwhelmed me; the stories from the chat room came flooding back from the recesses of my memory, from what I had read, and it was all there, right off the chat room and the web and just exactly as it had been described.

The stands were big, and full of spectators, and there were several thousand people in here and they were screaming and cheering like there was no tomorrow. As I came in from the hallway I could see that I had been dumped right at the top of a huge chasm that went down, all the way to the basement of the building. I was surprised by the size of the space and by the number of people that were inside.

It was not unlike a giant basketball gymnasium on the biggest night of the hottest game that has ever been. The stands even leaned backwards and upward from the floor and were built the same way as they are in some gyms. Only on this floor the basketball hoops were missing, and instead of a court there was a ring, a ring with ropes and mats. It reminded me of something you would expect in Las Vegas or at a professional wrestling match.

The place was packed, and just as I came inside I could see pandemonium was taking place, and it was obvious that I had missed something. There, right THERE, in the center of the ring, a man about my age, a very naked man I should add, with a smooth chest and a flat stomach was being helped to his feet. He was only semi-conscious, and the guys lifting him up were holding his weight. Next to him another man stood, wearing a bright blue jock, and nothing else, and holding what seemed to be yellow-handled hand axe high over his head, the instrument pointing at the ceiling in triumph and drawing every eye to it.

I was confused, trying to make sense of it, and then all of a sudden I saw the chopping block and it all just became crystal clear. I looked again at the man, at the one they were helping! As I looked, STARED even, that’s when everything clicked at once. I realized he had no balls. Gone. Nothing. He was hanging under the arms of two men who were obviously dragging him from the stage, collapsed and with all the strength drained from him. As they dragged him off the stage I could see what must have been the remains of his red jockstrap, ripped and laying beside the wooden chopping block where his scrotum was. But what took most of my attention was his dangling prick hanging down above an empty void. God...in that instant, with that single look, I knew that it was all TRUE...every story I had ever read. The Arena was real alright, and oh God...at least one man had really lost his balls!

My heart was pounding then, and oh I was more excited than I had ever been, ever in my life before. I wanted to rush down to the mat, to see it, SEE IT ALL, to find a seat and to watch the show. I needed it even, to SEE IT FOR MYSELF if nothing else, and I was so anxious and so excited that words cannot convey the feeling.

A gentleman, dressed in a suit and tie like an usher for a play, was standing beside me and for a minute I thought he might ask me for a ticket or something. Then, as he looked at me, he smiled and said in perfect English. “Senor, let me welcome you to the Arena. You must place your bets between the bouts, and then once they are placed you may find a seat to watch. Are you new here?”

I nodded, and said I was.

He said “I will help you find a seat, but first you must place your bet.

I answered him: “Ah...I...I think I’ll watch first, to get the hang of things....then, then I’ll try and bet some later.”

He frowned as he looked at me. “Senor, you must bet on each round. Everyone bets. Everyone. Non-betters have to leave...we do not allow watching unless you are playing.”

He then motioned for me to move to the betting window, and there was already a long line of patrons coming up from the seats in the ring, obviously to make their wagers before the next show began. I had no idea, but moved along with the crowd, and as I came to the betting window I could hear that the next contest was between the “CRUNCHMAN” and the “CASTRATOR.” I almost laughed at the two names, and knowing nothing else, I of course decided to bet on the second one.

“What’s your bet? Come ON! WIN ONLY? Or WIN AND SHOOT? Let’s hear it guy, make your bet!!!”

I had no idea what he was talking about. But I saw a large sign on the wall, and so I stepped back and took the time to read it, and it explained the basics of what I needed to know. First of all, the minimum bet was fifty dollars, and only cash in U.S. dollars was accepted. No credit cards! I gasped. I didn’t have a hell of a lot of cash left, and I knew I had to save something for the cab ride to get me home. Of all the rumors that I had heard about this place and of the two guys I had found that would chat it up in the chat rooms, nothing had ever been said about the money I would need.

Still, I was here, and it was REAL, and shit, I had already paid $150 dollars just in cab fees! Damn. I just had no idea that this place was going to be that expensive. It was supposed to be cheap down here....I was in Mexico for God’s sake and beers were less than a buck!! Perhaps I could win more. It was something to hope for.

I read on. The sign said that the Arena only pays if you match your bet exactly, otherwise they pay you nothing. There were only five variables and two contestants, and so the betting happened fast and they had lots of employees manning the betting windows. Money was flowing like water. You could bet your player to WIN, or LOSE, or DRAW, and also for the loser to SHOOT OR NOT. As I read the sign my heart was literally pounding, and not having any idea what I was doing, I pulled out a fifty and put it on the CASTRATOR to WIN.

The guy behind the window grabbed my money and said “OK, fifty to WIN.....you bettin’ on the wad or not?” God, what a question!!!!! I had no idea what I was doing, but opted out of that idea with a shake of my head, since I figured that if sex was a part of the picture equation I didn’t figure a guy losing his nuts would feel like shooting much of anything. Anyway, I got a receipt, and with it a “free” Corona, and as I turned around the man who I had been talking to was waiting for me.

He said “Good seats can be had for a price.”

I hesitated but I wanted up close. I opened my wallet, and gave him a twenty, and then, looking at him and judging his expression, I added another. He smiled and said “Ah, amigo...you are very generous. I will give you an excellent seat, but remember, never forget to bet or you will be told to leave.”

I followed him to my seat, and he took me all the way down to the front and removed a “reserved” sign from one of the stadium seats right in front of the ring. God, the seat was perfect! It was right beside the ring, center stage, right next to the floor. Hell, I could smell the odors down there, even feel the thunder in the movement of the seats, and in fact I was so close to where the action would take place I was almost a part of it. I thanked him, and he smiled, and as I watched him go I admired the view of it all. I couldn’t help but smile, and I immediately began to like the people here.

The betting windows stayed open for close to half an hour, and it gave me time to look around the Arena. They had a cleaning crew working on the ring, and the ushers moved through the seats, checking everyone’s betting stub and making sure there were no slackers. The place was packed, and I figured it was about half full of Mexicans and about half full of other nationalities, mostly Americans. There were several Japanese men in the stands, as well as some Europeans too. There were even a few women in the group although the vast majority were young men. In fact, judging from the group there were quite a few of college age like myself and a few more that even looked military, although they were not in uniform. That surprised me somewhat, but I guess you can do whatever you want on military leave. Regardless of who they were or what age they looked like, everyone seemed excited for the next bout to begin.

Finally, the ushers had checked to make sure everyone had placed their wagers, and after that things started happening and my heart began to race. An announcement was made in Spanish, and then in English, and after that the next two contestants were brought out, to their respective corners. They were both dressed in nothing but brightly colored jock straps, their genitals bulging within the cup of material and everything that made them a man supported by the stretched material. God they were both hunks in their own way!

I looked at the CASTRATOR and had to smile...he was Mexican, and big, really big, with thigh muscles that were huge and his torso was ribbed and solid muscle. His belly was flat, and ribbed with horizontal lines, and his arms were powerful and glistened in the light. I figured he must have spread some baby oil or something on himself to give him the shine. He was a huge, powerful man, like a football player, and there wasn’t much of a doubt he was as big a man and as strong of a man as I had ever seen.

The other guy, the guy I now was hoping would lose, was on the opposite corner, away from me. He was American looking and built too, but not in the same way. I noticed right away he didn’t have the same look of confidence, and perhaps the look on his face was more scared than excited. I let my eyes linger on his body. He too was a man that knew how to take care of his body, and while he wasn’t as big or as strong looking as the CASTRATOR still his body was well muscled and strong. In some ways he was like me, a college man, with a hard body made in the gym and the muscles to set it off.

What especially got my attention was the sac between his legs—it was big and bulging and looked like it more than filled the jock he was wearing. I could have sworn he was hard under it, and his prick seemed to be holding out the front almost as if he was eager to get it all done. He was thinner, and looked like more of a hard, wrestler’s body, with a hairless chest and tight, tiny nipples that were round and sharp and defined. He too had spread oil over himself and his hard body glistened. Still, it was his package that stood out, literally, and God, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

In the very center of the ring there was a large square cube, and at the top of that cube was a knife. The knife looked awesome, one of the special, modern, Hollywood-style blades with the intricate steel and the futuristic lines that looked terrifying. It all looked very intriguing, like something out of some science fiction movie or something. The knife was resting in a neat little stand, that seemed to emphasize its importance and there was a bright spotlight on it. I was seated so close I could count the rivets within the handle.

My heart was pounding as I stared at the two men. God they were hot looking, and the muscles of the two reminded me of Roman Gladiators or something. They were just so powerful. I wanted my man to win...wanted to see my guy do it...WIN IT ALL AND TAKE HIS BALLS. God. Was this real? Did I really think THAT? I DID!

The two contestants had been made to sit down in their respective corners, and I noticed when they were seated that their arms were held behind them, inside of some box-like contraption that seemed to have inserts for their wrists to go. I had to wonder about that...I mean, if they wanted to fight in the arena why were their hands secured while they waited? I was sitting close enough I could smell my man, and his smell of sweat permeated the seats where I was and I could see it literally dripping from him. I don’t think he had showered recently and yet I found his scent invigorating. I studied his flat chest, hard and firm and perfect. He was a big man. It suddenly occurred to me that he couldn’t really do anything right now...but wait, wait until it was time to make his move and then he would be freed for his fight. I tried to study his expression. Fear? No, not really. Anticipation? Eagerness even? What was the look? As I looked at him, studying him, and his Mexican masculinity, I grew hard in my pants and I felt my prick pushing upward, eager even to see what would happen.

Both men wore colored jock straps, and nothing else. My man’s was blue, and the other man’s was red. In the waistband of the straps small thin ropes dangled. They looked to be about ten on each side, hanging down like the strings of a rope skirt. They might have been leather, or nylon, and they weren’t very thick. I could see they were just hanging there, so that if you pulled on them they would pull free like a piece of rope. I had no idea what they were for, but each man had them.

They announced the two players. The man in the blue jock, the CASTRATOR, was 23, from Mexico City, and was obviously the local favorite. My confidence surged, and it said that he had won more 20 previous matches and had earned his name. The other player, the man in the red jock, called the CRUNCHMAN, was an American, from the University of Oklahoma and had signed up for his first match. I didn’t catch his age, but from looking at him I figured he was 22 or 23, and he looked so afraid I had to laugh at the name they had given him.

Suddenly, the bell dinged and the two were out of their seats and coming at each other. The CRUNCHMAN looked almost petrified, and he glanced around the arena and up and down the aisles. He turned then, and came at his opponent with the stance of a fighter, his hands in fists and obviously ready to take him on.

Still, he looked like an amateur, and I could see the CASTRATOR sizing him up. The CASTRATOR hesitated....letting him come closer, and then closer still, and then, when they were only a few feet apart he suddenly was a blur of movement, kicking upward with his right foot, hard. In a totally surprising move he kicked high and deep and so fast it was hard to follow. His foot landed right under the red jock of the CRUNCHMAN, and as I watched only a few feet away I could see the man’s entire package take the blow...lifting up, and then up some more. The foot was moving so fast the man was lifted right off the floor, the impact crushing into his groin and his balls and dick taking the brunt of it all.

The man grunted, and then he crumpled like a paper doll, his entire body collapsing from the pain that his genitals had become. It had only been seconds, but the man from Oklahoma was on the floor, laying on the mat directly in front of me, his eyes open and his hands in his crotch. He couldn’t move, and the CASTRATOR took the advantage of his pain and moved fast. As I watched, he jerked one of the little ropes from his waist, and with a kick he spun the other man over, on his stomach, and used the rope to tie his hands together like a cowboy in a rodeo might tie a calf.

In seconds it was done, and then he spun him over again and jerked downward on the man’s legs, where he took a second cord and tied his ankles together. The man started to struggle then, but I could see that he was still recovering from the kick to the groin and now that he was tied I didn’t think he had too many options left to him.

The crowd was screaming, and the CASTRATOR was all smiles. He waved, grinned, and then, with a single snap, he reached down and jerked on the red jockstrap of his opponent, which came free and literally ripped from his body. He threw it out to the crowd, and we loved it! The nude man’s balls were huge, and his still half-jutting cock, although not that big, was round and fat and the end was purple.

The CASTRATOR seemed to savor the moment, and then he took another tie from his waist and as I watched, only a few feet away, he slipped it over the man’s scrotum and then began to bind it, around and around his sac, jerking the man’s testicles upward until they were separated and cinched tight in their bag. The man grunted from the pain, or the shock perhaps, and as he started to move the CASTRATOR just shoved him down hard, into the mat with a slam of his fist and at the same time he jerked straight up, hard on the cord that held his balls.

As he did that the man grimaced, and it was obvious that he was in tremendous pain. The expression on his face was one of disbelief, of what was happening and what was being done to his balls. I almost laughed. Then, the CASTRATOR paused and looked to the crowd, where everyone was making the thumbs down sign, like something from some Roman history movie. He looked around, at the chanting, and then, finally, up to the big box in the center of the stands, where another man, wearing a coat and a tie and smoking a cigar was standing. I watched him too make the thumbs down sign, and when the CASTRATOR saw him do that he smiled and walked to the center of the stage....dragging the bound man behind him by the very cord that was tied around his balls!

God they were stretched out as he was being dragged! I didn’t know a man’s balls would be able to do that, stretch out that way and carry a man’s weight like his were doing. I could see that he tried to struggle but I could also tell that his balls had taken over his being....he seemed incapable of doing anything once that cord had been tied and then had been used to carry him. I was breathing fast when The CASTRATOR grabbed the knife, and it glistened in the floodlights....the blade so sharp and shiny that it almost radiated. It was a big knife, as much for show I suppose as it was for the job at hand, and yet when the big man hefted it still brought a roar to the crowd. He then straddled the man he had tied, resting his blue jock covered package right on top of the naked man from Oklahoma who was now tied and exposed and helpless.

I could hardly breath. There was this hot stud sitting on another man, owning him, riding him even, the one man an incredible physical specimen of strength and power, and the other a defeated gladiator whose balls were bound up and tied, literally, being held as they waited for the knife. I could have died with the anticipation. Would he really do it? Oh GOD....my heart pounded. This was real and I was there and I was so close I could see everything!

Suddenly, the CASTRATOR seemed to hesitate, and then he started smiling at the man he owned. I watched him reach down, slowly, toying with the man he had beaten. He took the American’s cock in his left hand, and twisted it...slowly. He ran his thumb over the man’s head of his dick, rubbing it there, playing with the end and sliding his thumb up and down in the slit and through the single, weeping eye. The American, with his balls bulging in their sac, groaned from the feeling and the intensity of his predicament, and then, as we all watched, he grew harder, stiffer, and after only a minute or two he seemed almost eager even. After that the CASTRATOR seemed to stroke him like it was a game, up and down and up and down, laughing as he was doing it! God...he was pumping his cock!

Then I realized what he was doing, and what the implications were. I started yelling, with the rest of the crowd, only I was yelling for him to stop while others who had bet differently were yelling for him to continue. What had the man at the betting widow said? “You bettin on the wad or not?” Oh GOD it wasn’t his choice at all and suddenly I realized that my “NO” was probably not the right answer. I guess I never suspected anything like this—but who would have????

I yelled louder, as if it would make any difference. My voice wasn’t heard, not over the crowd that was cheering, and as I watched the bound man’s erection grew stiffer and stiffer, finally growing so eager that the end glistened with his precum. I guess I didn’t really care, the thrill of what I was watching overshadowed the bet I had made. Right before he lost it and shot his wad I could see it in his eyes. He knew...knew his balls were going to be taken if he started ejaculating, and with that knowledge I think the fear of cumming consumed him. Still, while another man worked his cock against his will the feeling took him anyway, and as it did he realized it and the expression in his face is one I can never forget as he fought desperately to prevent himself the one pleasure that most men are living for.

In the end his attempt was unsuccessful, and then just as he knew it would at that precise second when he started to pump out his goo, his ropes of cum shooting out in a big arch that fell on his chest and then his belly, the CASTRATOR moved the knife in a fast, single sweep, and in doing so he took his balls. It happened in an instant, the actually castration, and one minute the big man from Oklahoma was a man, full of vitality and hope and promise, his big balls bulging and filled with his cream, and the next he was a castrated eunuch in Mexico, the essence of his manhood sliced away and spilled on his belly.

It was too much, and I felt my dick erupt within my pants and I just looked and watched and felt it, my cream jetting out and into my pants as I stared at the new eunuch on stage. I let it go, enjoyed the feeling, filling my pants with my goo and the feeling just so overwhelming I could not have stopped it for anything in the world. Finally, my own orgasm subsided, and the reality of where I was returned.

The big man had collapsed completely when he lost his balls. After that his eyes glassed over, and he lay on the mat semi-conscious, and the team of waiting help came out and picked him up and dragged him off the stage to the boos of the crowd. I didn’t know what to say, or to do. I could hardly believe what I had seen, and the excitement then inside of me was just so intense that I was filled with wonder. The wet spot in my pants wasn’t that obvious, thank God, and I waited for a few minutes to recover and to get my erection under control. I HAD TO SEE MORE!

As soon as I could I rushed to the betting window, to see if I had won anything. I mean, my guy had certainly beaten the other man after all, although not quite the way I had wagered but still I wasn’t that sure about the way the payments were made. But a few minutes later, as I watched the house paying out the winners, I realized that I had missed it when I hadn’t predicted the wad. Damn! I had the funny thought that I had lost the bet but shot my own wad, while others had kept their wad but won their bet. Perhaps I had won something better after all. I smiled, and let myself chuckle with that thought as I savored the wetness within my pants.

I looked in my wallet, and I had just seventy-five dollars left. I had found the poster for the next bout, and I knew I couldn’t leave, not now. I still was way short on cash, and I was nervous, but I wasn’t totally stupid and I had the plastic card and while it wasn’t accepted here I had to assume that I could find someone in the city that would take it later. But for now, I knew I had to see the next contest, and leaving just wasn’t an option and so I bet the fifty.

The next two contestants were younger, just teenagers, and for some reason that excited me so much I grew hard just with the thought. One of them was Mexican again, and the write-up said he was eighteen and had been in prison since he was sixteen. It described him as being hard, and mean, and ready to take on any comers. The other young man was supposed to be an eighteen year old marine from San Diego, California. That surprised me! I mean, my mind was racing then, trying to figure out how a new private in the USMC could get himself into Mexico, and the contest, or why he would want to. Still, it made the bet difficult to predict, and the match promised to be more of a contest.

Still, as tough as the marines are known to be, somehow I just couldn’t see a prison-wise ex-con from the Mexican jail system not being able to take on a new recruit that had until recently no doubt been living the soft life in some southern California town. Still, they were both just barely old enough to have finished high school and it was hard to even think about one of them about to lose his balls.

I had no idea how to bet my money. The marine boy would certainly have had some combat training, but how much I couldn’t be sure. Still, in the end I went with my instincts. I dropped my money on the Mexican prison kid, and after the last match I figured the local boys had an advantage. I also figured I had learned my lesson on the SHOOTING part of the bet, and I figured that any man could be forced to blow his wad under the right circumstances, especially a teenager.

As I looked at the poster of the marine, I almost could visualize him as he fought to keep his wad as he lost his balls. Of course, it was all just in my mind, and I realized there were lots of ways this could go. Still, I went my bet the best way I saw it, and yet I was shaking as I handed over the money and took another “free” beer. The bet was important this time. I knew that I HAD to win if I was going to get to see anymore.

After I made my wager I went back to my seat, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I just couldn’t believe what I had seen already, and I just kept seeing it in my mind and replaying that moment again and again. Wow....the memory was crystal. God, I closed my eyes, and clear-as-day I could see that big man’s balls being sliced away. Unmanned! What a concept!

I was so close I had seen his body convulse as they were taken, saw him bite down on his tongue as he felt the cut, watched his eyes go open as he lost them. He grunted too when the knife made its slice, the grunt just loud enough that I got to hear it. Oh that feeling, that single moment when he was neutered, the fight disappearing from him like the water goes over a damn. Everything was gone at once, just gone, and after that he was limp and lifeless and no longer a man, his prick receding from its last boner and his last masculine essence wasted on his belly. I opened my eyes and took in the Arena! God this place was so exciting!

Again, the ushers came by and checked our tickets, and the stage was clean and ready for the next contest. Soon, to our cheers, the two new contestants came out and I almost died I was so eager. What surprised us all, and literally blew the crowd away though wasn’t the two boys as much as the woman that was leading them. They come on stage as a trio, the two teens and the woman, and as soon as we saw her and what she implied I think the crowd went crazy.

First, the boys...oh God, they were both so HOT, and when I saw them and thought of what they were here to do, about the fight to come, my dick went so hard it was hurting. I tried to place the odds. Even. Dead even. The Mexican was one hot looking kid. But God, he was so young looking! I don’t think he had even shaved yet, and his face was smooth and his jet black eyes and his dark hair made him look oh so cute. He was thin, and he was wearing a bright red Speedo bathing suit, and nothing else. He was smooth, on his chest, and his legs had only the slightest bit of fuzz. Under his pits were two tiny patches of sex hair, just little patches that looked almost trimmed they were so small and insignificant. He had oiled himself up and he glistened. He looked sexy, and he was. Still, he had a scar across his cheek, and he had that look that seemed to radiate a certain meanness, and he looked like he was ready to fight. He certainly didn’t look afraid, and he was strong enough and I knew he would fight hard.

The American Marine was young too, and he had a almost shaved head that betrayed how little time he had been in the service. He had a hard body, ripped, and the marines had done a good job building it up. As I tried to be honest, I realized he was a lot harder and a lot stronger looking than the Mexican kid. Still, he didn’t have that intense look in his eyes. I had to admit he was sexually arousing, and as he sat there in that jet black Speedo bathing suit he looked like he was ready for a high school swimming match. His body was oiled like the others, slick and shiny, and it was obvious that it had been worked in well and everywhere. I looked to his bulge, and compared it to the Mexican where I had put my money. The young marine had about twice the package in his crotch. Well, cock size isn’t everything, but the American boy overall seemed to be a little further into puberty and had more of that chiseled body of a man and less of the look of the developing adolescent. Still, 50/50 was the way I saw it. God this was going to be good!

The knife stand and the chopping block were both missing for this bout, and instead only a tall, bar stool set on the center of the stage. The woman, dressed only in leather, black and polished and oh-so-sensuous, sat herself upon the chair. Around her waist was a leather scabbard, of sorts, and an ivory handle stuck out the top. Other than that, and the long black stockings that ran all the way up to the shortest of skirts, almost nothing was left to your imagination.

Her tits were huge, and they jutted up firm and high. They had a piece of leather, a semi-half bra that only covered them about half way, leaving the rest of her breasts free to the air and her two big nipples exposed and titillating. She sat on the stool and taunted the two boys, smiling at them, one after the other, and blowing kisses and licking her lips when they would look her way. It was obvious from the reaction of the two contestants that she fascinated them, even though it was equally obvious they feared everything she represented.

As I was thinking about all of this and wondering exactly what role she would play in this bout, the bell rang and the entire room rocked to life. The stands went crazy, and it seemed everyone was excited about the match and the woman and where it was all going to lead. The marine seemed galvanized by the woman, and when the bell rang he came right out of his seat like he meant business, and he had the body to make things happen and he did.

When the two met they grappled, but the marine came up with a punch and then another and then another. The street kid swung and landed a few blows, and more than once the marine kid staggered from them. It was intense, touch and go, and for a while it was about as even as it could be.

The intensity grew and the crowd grew electric. It was just so intense I can’t really describe the fight. It was two teenage boys fighting for their manhood, and you don’t get a more intense fight anywhere. Slowly, the marine began to get the upper hand, and after a while my Mexican kid was getting thrashed, and it wasn’t a pretty thing to see. One of his eyes was partially shut, and bleeding from a cut, his lip was fat and his face looked swollen. Still, he hung in there as they pounded each other.

The lady would make faces when one of them took a hit, grimacing and looking shocked and then she would smile again seconds later. One time the marine had taken a hard hit on the face, and had staggered, and as he spun around he had looked her way. She had been ready, and used the moment to grab the ivory handle, and slid it out of its halter and had held it up for him to see. As his eyes flashed on it, she had smiled and kissed the blade. It was only an instant, but it revealed a gleaming, curing almost hook-like blade, obviously built but for a single purpose. When the marine’s eyes had spied it, they had snapped open, and he and spun back into the fight with a renewed vengeance, fueled in part by the fear of what he had seen.

I thought for a moment my boy would lose for sure, as the power of the bigger marine was after a while just too much. He seemed to slowly just be overpowering the younger looking Mexican. Then, suddenly, when I least expected it, my boy caught the marine just totally off guard, and in a surprise move he got in a punch that knocked the marine down. Wow. The man just took the upper cut, hard, and then, slowly, the marine fell backwards and into the mat so hard I thought he was done. He fell right beside me, and as I watched, his eyes rolled back, and then fluttered, and after that he was so dazed I’m not sure he was even conscious. He was obviously totally vulnerable and the crowd exploded and the cheering for the Mexican boy thundered and shot through the entire auditorium.

The woman laughed, and pointed at the man on his back, working her finger as if to draw him near. At that point, the Mexican kid had it won, and I grew so excited I cannot describe it. I knew I was about to watch a young marine be unmanned, and the only question was on how it would happen. But teenagers do the strangest of things, and some of the mistakes they make can mess up their lives and blow their opportunities.

The Mexican kid did the last thing I would have expected. He looked to the crowd, and to the woman and for a second lingered on her tits, and then he looked out again, up the exit aisle and to where the entrance hall archway was where I had first come in. Then, without any other warning, he bolted. He just left the marine where he had popped him and took off on a run at full speed! He leaped right over the top rung of the ring and was running away so fast I, and most of the people watching, including the woman, were caught totally off guard.

I just never expected he would try and escape, and for some reason I had figured they both even wanted to be in the ring. But as he rushed by I realized that clearly was not the case, and this kid was moving, and doing his best to take the advantage of surprise to get the hell out of there and as quickly as was possible. For a second or two I thought he might actually make it.

As he ran up the exit aisle, one of the security guards pulled out a device I later found out to be a Taser M26 non-lethal weapon. He pointed it square at the boy’s chest and then, from a distance of less than six feet, he pulled the trigger. Even as far away as I was when he did that and the 1800psi of compressed nitrogen fired the twin probes of wire into the naked skin of the boy, I could hear the impact. I also was still close enough that I could see the result, and it was instant, and devastating. When that thing hit the lad the boy was instantly transformed and it reminded me of what happens when a fly runs into a bug zapper. There was a sizzle then, and with the sizzle more than 50,000 volts of electric current were dumped instantly into the teenager’s body. Although the amperage of the current was less than a third of an amp, it was enough to completely obliterate all neuromuscular function that the youth had.

In a single instant, the boy’s eyes went wide and then like a rag doll he crumpled and went down, hard, laying in a pile as his entire body spasmed in a semi-seizure from the impact of the electrical charge. Wow! The security staff didn’t waste any time, and while the crowd was booing at the cowardice of the boy we all watched as two guards dragged him back down to the Arena, and tossed him up over the ropes and back into the ring.

The boy was groggy, and his arms flailed without control and he tried to make sense of what had happened and sort out the motor control that had been zapped from him. He was a mess, and even though he was conscious, he had no control of his muscles and he flopped about on the mat, literally twitching as he struggled to regain control of his body. He obviously knew where he was, but he was dazed and uncoordinated, and after the Taser hit he could do nothing now to protect himself.

The marine wasn’t totally recovered himself, but he was up and moving at least, and he wasn’t stupid either. He knew an opportunity and took it. He didn’t even bother to tie the boy up either. Instead, he jerked off the kid’s red Speedo and tossed it to the crowd, and then as the crowd applauded he just pulled the boy’s right arm up behind his back, holding it there, and then he half walked him right to the center of the ring and led him like a zombie to where the hot woman in leather was waiting for him.

The boy was facing the woman, his right arm up behind him and the young marine holding him like a prize, standing before the woman with the naked boy. The woman smiled, and then she reached out and ran her hand through the black hair of the lad, tossing his hair with her fingers like a mother might play with her son. Then, slowly, her smile grew more wicked, and than after that she let her hand fall down his face and linger on his smooth rosy cheeks.

The boy was staring at her, still dazed, but he was powerless to do much anyway and the marine’s grip on was firm and unrelenting. Only inches apart, the woman and the boy were so close the feeling seemed electric. She leaned over and kissed him deep, sliding her tongue down the boy’s throat and as she was doing that her left hand slowly worked in a circle around the boys left nipple. She worked it, obviously not in any hurry, and it grew tight and small and she tweaked the tip of it.

The marine was smiling as this was all going on, holding the boy upright and letting her have her way with him. The boy tossed his head back, and tried to move his free hand but he was still struggling to regain some of his coordination. She didn’t seem to care, and instead let her fingers slide down his slippery chest, until they were intertwined into his small matt of pubic hair. She seemed to dawdle there, for a minute or so, working her fingers through his young black bush, feeling his small bit of hair and toying with it. It was matted and wet looking, from the oil I suppose, or his sweat, but as she played with it his cock became rock hard, stiff and jutting out of it and as eager as any cock can be.

I tried to gauge the boy’s reaction, wondering what it would be like to have a woman touching you like that before she took your balls. The lad seemed totally mesmerized, and instead he just stared at her with his deep dark eyes, watching her and her hands and the way she was exploring his body.

Finally, she hefted his cock in her left hand, almost like she was weighing it, and then with her other she began to pat it gently on the top of it as she softly spoke to him. Luckily, I was near enough where I was, but for most of the crowd they missed her words. His cock seemed to be slick, with baby oil I suppose, and as she slid her hand along his shaft and slowly whispered to him the look on his face is hard to describe. He was breathing with his mouth open, gasping really, staring at her and her hands that were holding him and listening to her every word.

“There there there.....such a nice, hard dick. Such a shame really, such a shame. Oh I like your dick...I like the feeling and the smoothness of it....the way the head is so big and beautiful and so slippery. Do you like that? Do you? Yeah....oh I’m so glad....you are so big you are....and your cock is just so slippery. Ah....the end....does that feel good? I’m glad...yeah....I see you are seeping some....do you like me touching you? You do? Oh...that’s so nice. Have you ever had a woman boy? No?...oh, well, you have me now....do you like a woman holding your prick? Oh...yes...I see that you do......”

The crowd had grown quieter, as if they wanted to hear what was being said, but it didn’t matter and it was enough to watch the woman as she held the boy’s dick and slid her hand along his shaft. I don’t think there was a dick in that entire auditorium that wasn’t hard at this point.

The woman leaned over and kissed the boy’s ear, licking it, running her tongue inside of it as she worked his shaft. Then she said to the marine that was holding the boy, “Make him tie his own balls and then make sure they are nice and tight. Then bring him back to me. If he does it I’ll be good to him....if he refuses, then do it for him and I’ll make him wish he had done it himself.”

The marine responded as if he had received an order. He jerked the boy away, pulling him backwards and down to the mat so hard that it almost broke the spell. The boy tried to struggle then, but he was still uncoordinated in his movements, and he didn’t offer much resistance as the marine pulled out a cord from the waist of his black Speedo which was only partially covering his rock hard erection.

As the marine took the cord I heard him say to the other boy “Hey dude...you know its time. So, unless you want to bleed to death you had better tie them up...nice and tight, and make it fast too cause I think she wants to nut you soon. You heard her. She wants you to tie them yourself, and I don’t think I’d disappoint her.”

The boy had no fight left in him...and it was almost as though he realized that anything he might do now was a lost cause. Still, he was shaking his head, side to side, but even so his struggles were weak and uncoordinated and it was obvious that the shock from the Taser still had a grip on him. The marine held him fast and twisted his arm up further, way up, so far up into the small of his back I thought he would dislocate the boy’s shoulder.

The teenager grunted, and then screamed out then, and said OK....OK.....and then with that the marine smiled. The kid looked totally defeated, and his legs were parted and his cock was up and eager and glistening, the end flared and purple and bouncing to his heartbeat. As I watched, the marine handed him a cord, and the boy took it. The marine kept an arm around the boy’s neck, but released his grip on the boy’s arm so he could hold the cord himself. After that he struggled with it, and the marine did have to help him get it into a loop and then around his own balls. I could hardly believe it. As we all watched the young teenager was just sitting there, still with that dazed look, holding the two ends of a cord that was looped around his own sac where his twin balls resided. Time stood still then, and the marine encouraged him to pull it tight.

“Please...I...I don’t want to” he said with a whimper.

The marine said something, and the boys eyes opened wider and I could see him look at the woman. I could see him thinking then, and yet even so I figured there was no way he would ever do it. The woman smiled, and blew him a kiss....mouthing the words “do it” as she did. Finally, the boy must have given in to the idea, because he closed his eyes and then pulled the ends of the cord closed with a snap. He grunted, and a look of shocked surprise came over his face as he felt the cord bite into the essence of his manhood. The marine took the ends from him then and looped them a second time around the boy’s already self-tied sac, and then, with a much stronger pull, he jerked them much harder, with all of his might, and in doing so he snapped the kids sac closed like a purse.

The room erupted in laughter and the tension of the moment relaxed. The Mexican boy had the look of total fear after that, that special shocked look on his face just frozen, the priceless expression when he felt his balls get tied and their nourishment ended. He still was so hot looking, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of his smooth Mexican body that was at this very moment beginning to be unmanned. I could sense his feeling, as he knew he was now powerless to stop it from happening. The teenager started begging, loudly, whimpering then, and the crowd seemed to feed on his sobs.

The woman looked around at the crowd, and make a questioning look...then she flashed her thumb up....shrugged her shoulders, and then turned it over. There was a rustle of movement in the crowd, and then after that it was “thumbs down” all around the house, and as the signs were being made the marine picked up the boy again by his arm and shoving it back between his shoulders he jerked the boy upright and took him back to the woman.

This time you could see the difference in the boy’s expression. His balls were hurting, and the double knot of leather around his sac was crushing everything that made him a young man. His balls were tight, and were hanging low in their sac, tied as tight as a set of balls can be tied without being severed by the cord. His balls had flashed dark red, a sinister red that seemed to brighten as they screamed for blood that would never flow again. As he was held next to the woman she slowly reached out and took his shaft back in her hands...feeling him, running her hands along its length and slowly working her nail gently, oh-so-gently over the tip.

Then she asked him “Do you want to cum first?”

The boy stared at her, and the tears just came out of his eyes without a sound. He was staring at her, feeling her as she held his shaft, tickling it, playing with it, his balls tight and tied and waiting for her to take them. The boy cried as he stood, his last moments as a teenager growing his way into manhood boiled down to her single question. I never saw him answer, and she just leaned over then and kissed him deep, and passionately.

While she was kissing him her finger worked the end of his dick, which was slick with a mixture of his slime and the oil he had been covered with. Her hands knew exactly the pressure to apply, and her fingers rubbed him in a circular motion around the head of his dick and under it. The other hand was holding his dick, sliding up and down his shaft as she held his pole, feeling the veins and the blood and the lust within him.

Of course, the more she stroked him the harder he got, and you could see his entire body stiffen as he began to work towards that moment that defined his purpose on this earth. He muscles grew tight, and his flat stomach drew in, tight, the way it does on a teenager as he approaches that feeling of ecstasy. The moment was intense, and as she was playing with him I had the thought that he was approaching his last climax. She stroked his dick like an expert, faster and faster, up and down she did still working her finger over his little hole. I watched him and his expression and thought of all the times he must have jerked himself off when he was in jail and wondered if this last time it was any better.

I wondered how it would be, feeling that feeling and knowing your balls are tied and just waiting for the moment to come so she could take them? She worked his meat, and he was feeling the feeling. I could see the lust in is eyes, and as I watched him I couldn’t help but wonder if he realized it was his last time. God...I was watching the final sexual act of a teenager male...his last opportunity to live the feeling before it was taken from him forever.

The crowd was crazy, watching the teenage boy and the woman as she pumped his meat, and as it went on and on everyone seemed to be yelling and screaming and the feeling in the crowd seemed to build as the feeling within the young male intensified. As she worked his pole his tiny nipples turned to points, and as I was watching them I was sitting so close I could see the boy as he started to sweat. His back turned wet and the sweat rolled down his face as she worked his prick, gripping him more firmly now, sliding his skin up and down along his shaft.

His primal need intensified, and he started to slowly grind his hips, pushing his cock into her fist as she worked his meat. In and out he fucked her fist, the end of his prick flared and eager and the big eye wet with fluid. Next, as I watched his balls pulled up tight, against the cord he had just tied, his sack bouncing up and down with her stroking and so firm and tight it was literally stuffed with the essence of what made the boy a man.

The marine who had defeated him was still holding him upright, one hand on his arm and keeping it stretched out and holding him securely in place. His mouth was open, and the front of his jet black Speedo was tented straight out, his young dick fighting to escape through the confines of the tiny suit that held him. The uncircumcised head of his cock was outlined in the material, the roundness of the head slammed up tight against his bathing suit. His eyes were glassed over as he watched the other teen he was holding, and the size and thickness of his cock seemed to be straining to punch through the nylon.

I was gasping, looking at the two teens and hard as a piece of steel. The young Mexican teenager was so hot and so wonderfully oversexed as she worked him towards orgasm and brought this beautiful body to ecstasy. Suddenly, his entire body stiffened, and he threw open his mouth and his eyes glazed over and then everything came together and he arched his back and slipped to that special place between heaven and earth where only an ejaculating male can go. He was looking at the ceiling then, when out of his cock the fluids just began to boil, the white of his spunk flowing out of the end and over her thumb that continued to work the hole. He shuddered, his body taking the feeling and running with it, as he pumped out his fluids like water spurts from a hose.

As it happened, the young marine who was holding him began to shoot as well. His prick never left his bathing suit, but his white spunk came up through it like a fountain, pushing its way right through the material, visible and white and totally obvious. I suddenly felt it in my own pants, again, and I creamed myself for the second time. I let it happen. Hell, I dumped my load just as the both boys I was watching were dumping theirs. Together we grunted it out until we were all empty. God!

I lay dazed in my seat, totally satisfied, and as I stared at the Mexican, I could see the feeling had overwhelmed him. Slowly, the woman let go of his cock, which continued to jut upward, high and proud, pointed up at her tits and out of the way of his balls. She reached to the ivory handle, and pulled out the hooked blade...the inside curve razor sharp and ground for the contour of a tied scrotum.

She didn’t move fast, and the boy’s eyes were looking into hers now, right into them, eyeball to eyeball. She took his nuts in her hand, and with the other she slipped the curve of the blade high, up between the two ties of leather. The boy’s tears were coming down, that post orgasmic moment receding, and a long clear drool of semen dangling out of his dick and down, onto his balls. Then, as I watched from only a few feet away, with a jerk of her arm she took his balls with a quick flash of the knife.

He gasped, and his eyes opened wider as he lost them, and then he opened his mouth as if to scream but no sound came out. He just stood there instead, that look of surprise painted on his face; the surprised look of a young man who has just lost his balls. The pain had to be shooting through his groin, consuming him even, and yet he just stood, staring, the shocked looked of total surprise covering his face. The woman took the boy and slowly turned him around, to face the crowd, and then, with his tied scrotum still in her hands, she placed it around his neck like a warm necklace and used the long ends of the leather to tie it into place.

The crowd roared a thunderous applause, and everyone appeared more than satisfied on the outcome of the bout. I figured he got what he deserved, and hell, if he had had the balls to stay and fight he might have stayed a man.

I knew for me it didn’t matter and it was all over. I was out of money, and oh how I wanted to stay. This was the most exciting thing I had ever seen, and yet even so I had shot two wads and it had been the greatest night of my life. Still, I had no idea how I was going to get back to the border. Just as I was starting to move, I saw them drag the castrated teenager off the stage. He had started sobbing like a kid, whimpering out his sobs as his beautifully slender and very spent dick hung limply between his legs, still hanging from under the small mound of pubic hair that would never increase in thickness or in length, and perhaps, over time, might even go away. I’ll never forget that boy with his dead balls still hanging around his neck like a piece of cheap jewelry. What a contrast. One moment they were the essence of his life force, feeding his body and sprouting him into manhood, nourished and alive and making his cream, and the next they were dead and empty and hanging like worthless trash around his neck.

I started to get up, to make my exit, when I noticed they were already setting up for the next contest. This time they were dragging in a large steel block, and as I watched I suddenly realized it was an anvil! A damn anvil, and next to it they placed a large steel sledgehammer! Oh GOD....they were going to smash someone’s balls!

Now, I don’t know what I was thinking then. But I knew I had to see it. I HAD TOO! I mean, how can they get a man’s gonads over that anvil and then slam a hammer down on them? Could they? Would they? Oh GOD I knew....just KNEW...somehow I HAD to see that! I went to the betting window, and begged....tried to let them let me stay for all the money I had left. I begged them to take my card, to use that, but they kept to their cash only policy and I was short. Shit. Even if they took it all, I didn’t have enough and so I started to ask and to beg from those around me to see if someone would loan it to me.

Suddenly, I looked up and saw the man in the coat and tie that I knew was from the big booth. He was puffing on a cigar, watching me, and then he said “Well American, I see you have enjoyed yourself.” He was looking at my pants, and I followed his gaze and my face flushed red, embarrassed to the core. I started to turn away, to run away even, but then he said “So you need some money?”

I hesitated, my mind reeling in overtime. The roar of the place, the brightness of the lights, the swarm of people rushing to make their wagers all came together to make it all what it was. By this time it was inside me, a part of me even. I was addicted plain and simple. Then, he said to me with a smile of kindness: “I’ll tell you what, I like you young Americans. You make your wager and I will cover it for you and give you a hundred bucks besides to get you back to the border. You win, you keep it and all your winnings, and you can stay the night and watch the rest of it. You lose, and you owe me, and I’ll put you to work and take my payment from the work you do. I always have stuff that needs to be done and I’m sure you would be able to work it back in no time. Does that sound fair to you?”

I hesitated, but with the Corona’s working my mind was buzzing, and while I didn’t like being in debt to anyone, still I wanted to see the show and now it was possible. What made up my mind though was the contestants...I was staring at the posters and they were so hot looking and the very prospect of what they were going to be doing was so great I really didn’t have the ability to think rationally at that point.

The money had been offered and the man seemed sincere and he sure seemed nice enough. I mean, this was something I COULDN’T MISS, and so this was a prospect that I couldn’t turn down. Besides, I had lost twice, and it was time for my luck to change. To this day I don’t know why, but I agreed to the deal, and with a nod I was pointed at the window to place my wager with the big man’s money.

What especially attracted me to this bout of course was the anvil, and the way in which one of the contestants would be unmanned. The entire idea excited me, and yet the other thing that made it all especially sweet was the contestants. They were real men, solid men, powerful, built, the kind of men you would dream of if you were going to dream up a match. One of the contestants was about 25, solid muscle, with the body of the professional wrestler. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and was my immediate favorite, and in my mind at least he represented the perfect gladiator. He went by the stage name of the HAMMERMAN.

The second man was of similar age, just as solid, but he had a dark beard and looked like someone out of a motorcycle gang or something. They were calling him the BALLCRUSHER and he had a big tattoo on his right shoulder, a loathing devil figure that seemed to project his image perfectly. For me, he represented the perfect villain, the mean machine that knew what he wanted and how to get it. He was a man of power, and he carried it in the way he walked and stared and stood. I imagined he carried that same power in the way he used the tool between his legs.

I could imagine him as he took his women, fast and hard, pounding his meat into them without much thought or concern for what they wanted. I immediately didn’t like him, and yet it was that contrast that made the match so hot in my mind. They were both real men, if there is such a term, powerful and strong, used to getting their way and taking what they wanted. I wasn’t positive my man would win, but somehow I saw him as “good” and the other character as “evil.” Still, I WANTED the bearded man to lose, and with that being my thought I was eager to watch his expression as his balls were obliterated on the anvil.

Like before, both contestants were wearing colored jockstraps, and their packages were huge and the cups were stuffed with their manhood. The HAMMERMAN wore a tight red jock, that seemed to shimmer in the light, and the BALLCRUSHER wore a green jock, that seemed to outline his entire package. Like the others who had been in the ring, the two men were slick and oiled, their entire bodies glistening under the lights. But unlike the two young teens that had fought earlier, both of these men had massive packages, and just thinking of what was going to be happening to one of them really raised the excitement level. The betting had been at a frenzied pace, and it was almost as if the entire Arena was building in excitement, as each act was hotter than the one before it.

When the bell rang the two came at each other like two wrestlers, without any hesitation and apparently without any thoughts of running away. My man was the perfect warrior, and early on he just picked up the other guy and swung him overhead, slamming him down on the mat so hard he bounced. The other man survived it though, and retaliated with punches, and after that they just brawled on the mat with a bone crunching fierceness. They flipped, and ended up in a ball of flesh, gripping each other like two Olympic wrestlers engaged in combat.

On one occasion my man fisted the other right in his package, then did it again and then again one more time. Even so, the man had grunted as he took the hits, but still he held it together and fought back with an increased intensity. The bout lasted and lasted, and it was obvious that they were dead even in ability and it was coming down to a test of endurance.

They just pounded each other, again and again, and they both got so tired I didn’t think they could stay standing. After quite a time had passed, the bell rang out, and for a second I thought they had tied. But it wasn’t over. Instead, they both went back to their corners, where they rested, and while there water was splashed down their throats. They were wet with sweat, and I was beginning to think that this time it might really come down to a draw.

After a couple of minutes passed, the bell rang and then they were at it again. I was so close I saw everything. I saw the sweat, I saw the way it dripped off of them both and I saw the way they fought and I smelled the smells they carried. I was excited, and it could have gone on forever except that luck was a part of the contest, just as it always is, and my blond haired gladiator missed a punch. As he did, it put him off balance, and the man known as the BALLCRUSHER took full advantage of it. Without any hesitation, he hit my guy straight up, hard, under the nose, and with that blow my guy had gone straight over backwards and his head had slammed into the mat so hard that it bounced.

Still, he somehow spun over and got back up, but I could tell that had dazed him and the contest became more one sided after that. They were grappling a few minutes later, like to men on a wrestling mat, and then somehow the man with the tattoo who I had wagered would lose had got my guy down, on the mat and on his stomach, with his knee between my guy’s legs, forcing them apart. He also held a grip on my guy’s arm, at his wrist, and was twisting it and shoving his arm up high, right between his shoulder blades and all the way to his neck.

He held my guy there for a long while, flat on the mat, and then he began to kick with his knee, slamming it again and again into the balls of the man under him. After about six hard kicks, they both just laid there together sucking air and trying to catch their breath, but I could tell the fight was pretty much done from the guy I had wanted to win. I watched the end finally, when the bearded man took some of his rope and he had tucked into the waist of his jock. It took a while, as he was tired, but he made the knots he needed and after that there was no more struggling, my man tied down like a trussed hog bound from his wrist to his feet.

After that, it was mostly over.....except for the actual nutting, and as I watched my guy was dragged over to where the big anvil was sitting. Some ropes were untied and retied around his ankles, and with some effort the big brute got my guy’s legs pulled around it, tied out that way so that his ankles were attached to two rings that were mounted in the floor to hold them in place. The man with the tattoo ripped the red jockstrap off of him then, exposing his balls to the air. They were resting right up against the anvil then, pushed up hard against the metal of the anvil and powerless to prevent their destruction.

I watched it all happen then, in slow motion. He tied my man’s balls...with a cord...looped it around his scrotum and pulled it so tight the individual orbs stuck out visible and pronounced. God it was tight! He pulled the rope hard, which stretched out the sack and pulled the balls down near the bottom. He pulled them up over the anvil then, by the lanyard, so they were resting right on top, the man’s two balls round and oh-so-vulnerable as they rested there, quivering in their stretched sac and waiting for the hammer to take them. The last thing he did was take a second piece of line, and knotting it around the head of the man’s dick, he pulled his cock up, straight up and away from his balls, exposing them totally and making a clear path for their destruction.

The blond haired man saw it all....started begging then.....pleading really, but the audience showed no mercy and nor did the man who had won. With thumbs down from everyone he picked up the big mallet, the steel face of the mallet round and flat and ready, and then he set it slowly, and very gently, down until it was resting right on the balls that were bulging up, exposed, in their sac. With the hammer resting there, the big steel mallet covered them, and only his mound of blond pubic hair could be seen sticking out. Everyone, including me I think, grimaced with the thought of it.

My man’s eyes were wide open as he felt the weight of that heavy steel hammer resting gently on his balls. His expression was one of absolute terror, the realization of how exposed they were and how much they hurt even with the thing only sitting on them. The

bearded man laughed....looking down at the man he owned, the moment in time his to control. He started moving the big hammer then, slowly, moving it back and forth and rolling my man’s balls under the face of it. The man grunted, jerked his hips and seemed to spasm with the feeling, the pressure on his balls so great then and the pain building, the prospect of helplessness totally demonstrated.

God. He was going crazy, feeling the weight of the hammer and his balls being rolled over the face of the anvil, flattening out as they were rolled under the big hammer face. I was so close I could see his muscles straining, trying to close his legs and desperate to do anything to save what could not be saved. Still, he tried, searching for someway to protect his balls.

With a smile the big bearded man looked to the crowd, and they roared their approval. Then, without any other hesitation, he just swung the steel hammer, straight up into the air. It seemed to hang there momentarily, suspended in time and space, hovering there almost as it hesitated at the top of the arc. Then, building speed, it started moving straight down, the sledgehammer making the arc gracefully, the aim perfect. I was staring right at it, at the man’s bulging balls and the twin orbs in their skin tight sac. The hammer made the fall, and then, as I watched it happen, the anvil and the balls and the sledgehammer became one and the same.

I don’t know what I really expected to see. There was a scream, a gasp really, and with the impact the balls simply disappeared and were no more. They were pulverized in an instant, turned to mush with the single blow, and whatever was left of them squirted out in all directions and then literally just disappeared into the air. I was sitting so close that some of what had been his manhood hit me in the face, and I tasted a mixture of balls and semen and blood although it was more of a wetness I was aware of than a splash. It was almost a mist really, a mist of manhood.

It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen, and as it happened I felt for the man like I had never felt for anyone. He took the blow with a shock.....looked down, at where his balls had been, and seeing nothing but a tiny knot of cord and a smear of wetness over the flat steel, his eyes rolled back into his head and he then he started bucking his ball-less hips in desperation. He screamed then, a scream unlike any scream I had ever heard, and as he screamed and bucked his hips and thrust the air I realized he hadn’t even cum. Now, as I looked at him, I realized he never would.

I gasped too and with a start I almost came in my pants for the third time. It was close, and I felt the first contraction but it didn’t go on from there, and yet for a few seconds I dared not move for fear that I would ejaculate another load. It had been too much, and the evening was just so perfect I didn’t see any way that it could get any more intense or any better.

I stayed in my seat, and waited until they came for him, and then they dragged him from the stage, the missing balls nothing but a mush of fluid that was still sticking to the sides of his legs. As I looked up there were two large Mexican men standing beside me, looking at me and waiting. I looked at them, and they said “Senor Rodrigeze wants you now....you owe him some money and he needs your employment.” I nodded, and swallowed the last of my beer, and then, standing up, I followed them down some stairs and then out, behind the stage.

I actually was relieved when I left the Arena, as the entire evening had been so intense that it was a blur. I didn’t mind going, and I guess in hindsight that I must have been naïve, as I was thinking they probably wanted me to take out trash or to clean up some messes. I figured I really only needed to earn the fifty back for the bet, but if the job was good I could use the hundred more, and perhaps a little bit more even for tips and incidentals and my cab ride home.

I was trying to figure out how long it would take me, and that’s the track my mind was on. As I was running it through my head, I realized he hadn’t given me a rate of pay. Still, I figured I’d get it done within a few days or so. While I was trying to figure it all out I wasn’t really thinking about the guys I was following, and so I certainly wasn’t prepared for what happened next and I wasn’t on guard so I never saw it happening until it did.

All of a sudden I realized they had led me into a small room, and when the door closed with a click I saw that there were five of them in there waiting for me. The next thing I knew I was being stripped of my clothing, and I fought and screamed and yelled but there were too many of them and there really wasn’t much I could do. I protested none-the-less, saying I would work....to stop what they were doing, and finally, to “GIVE ME BACK MY CLOTHES!”

I had no idea what they were doing, or why. But they seemed to have an agenda, and after they got me totally naked they hit me with a stun gun, dumping the high voltage directly into my nude body. I went limp, just like the boy I had watched earlier, and then I felt, more than saw, them give me a haircut. They trimmed my college locks and made me look like some high school kid, with short hair and zip for sideburns. They took my mustache off and shaved my face clean too. I started to protest; I was a little out of it but if they wanted me to have a haircut they could have just ask me. I protested some more, and the biggest of the goons just up and zapped me again, and after that I guess I just sort of set through the rest of it like a half-zombie. When they finished with my head of hair, then they started trimming my pubic hair and armpits, leaving the hair but thinning it out, trimming it up oh-so-neat until I had tight little patches that made me look even more like a sprouting teenager. I can remember watching them do it, but with my neurons all scrambled I just couldn’t even try to do much about it. God!

Finally, they cleaned me with a damp towel, and then they just stood across the room and left me alone to recover from the shocks they had given to me. I was really scared, and had no idea what the hell was going on. Eventually, I was starting to feel OK, and my muscles were working again but with a tingle. Aware of that damn stun gun thing he had, I was trying to be careful as I asked to see the guy that had hired me. I also just up and begged them to please let me have my clothes back. I knew that I had agreed to work, but I sure hadn’t agreed to be naked when I was doing it!

Finally, the guy came, and I know I was so damn thankful when he did. I know by then I was almost hysterical when the guy that had hired me finally came down and I could talk with him. When I saw him I started blurting out the words to try and straighten this all out, but he interrupted me and as he did so I had this overwhelming since of foreboding that seemed to just creep over me. Then, as if to make my fears concrete, he spoke to me these words: “Senor, you are a stupid American, who comes down here with his money and buys my fun. Well, you wanted money and I gave it to you. Remember, you also agreed to work for me, to earn it back, and now you will.”

I yelled back at him, “I NEVER SAID I’D WORD NUDE!” I was shaking, but I forced myself to calm down, to remain in control, and to try and talk this out rationally. I continued, my lip quivering: “Listen, I’ll work for you....I will! I told you that...I know I borrowed the money and I’ll pay it back. Take my credit card! Give me a job....I can clean the stage or sweep up the place or be one of your ushers. But you have no right to take my clothes or to cut my hair. I want my clothes back NOW!”

“He puffed on his cigar, savoring it, and then let out a ring of smoke, and smiled back at me. Then he answered “You will not be totally nude for long. Whether you are able to keep wearing what I give to you will be up to you and your abilities. For now, I say what you wear and what you do, and I have decided that you will work for me in the ring. That is what you will do, you will do your work in the ring to pay off your debt to me. In the Arena.”

I gasped. “What? WHAT THE FUCK? NO WAY!!!” The goons had their hands on my shoulders, holding me down, and as I sat there I was totally exposed and my trimmed up prick and balls were literally hanging down in full view of everyone. He was staring right at my package, his eyes almost burning into it, and it was so humiliating I wanted to die. I looked longingly at my clothes on the floor, my cum-soaked underwear piled on top of my pants. As his words started to sink in, the man continued.

“Ah, Senor, I know what you are thinking. Well, don’t sweat it so much. I take care of my employees, so if you lose your balls, I’ll send you home....as a eunuch of course.”

He burst out laughing then and the other men, holding me, laughed with him. Then he continued: “Ah, but think Senor, if you win your match then I win a wager, and then in that case you make me some of the money you owe. If you win a dozen matches, then you might make me enough that you could go home with your balls.”

With that, as I stared in shock and the words registered, I struggled like a madman. He laughed, and then started to walk out of the room. As he left, his last words to his goons were “GET HIM READY.”

Then, with a click of the cell door, I was alone with them once again. I fought them then with all that I had, and I was still fighting them a few minutes later when they rubbed down my prick with oil and worked it into my chest. One man pinched my nipples as he oiled my hairless chest, slopping the slippery fluid over my body. I screamed, fought with desperation I cannot describe, but they were too many.

They flipped me over, and I felt one of them pat my ass with a SLAP while another worked the baby oil into my scrotum, feeling my balls and the roundness of my sac. Then, another poured more oil down my back, and then over my ass and finally, down the crack and over my hole. They worked it in until I glistened. One man even worked his finger in and out of my hole as he spread the oil into the inner reaches of my body. I was powerless to stop any of it. Finally, with a final slap on the ass, the group of men seemed satisfied that I was ready, and then with a grin they slid on the bright red jockstrap and taking my other clothes with them they left me alone in that cell to contemplate my new employment.

[Authors note: © Copyright September, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. All comments are appreciated, more than you can know. [email protected]]