Ayzintion City - The Harvest Festival

This story forms yet another tale in the series that has come to be known as Ayzintion City. The series is written in such a way that it doesn’t really matter which story you read first, yet even so, they all form the tale and they are all written about the same, magical place that is found only in my mind. As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.

When the air begins to cool and the fall leaves start to paint the trees red and yellow, the fields are ripe with the freshest of produce and the grapes are at their peak. The olive trees are ripe too, as are the berries of fall. There are buckets of fresh blueberries, raspberries, and wild blackberries that can be obtained for almost nothing. Everywhere it seems there is fresh produce, and the stands are filled and the market is bustling. The entire city starts to buzz with wagon loads of potatoes, beans, cabbage, and lettuce. Fresh beans, the last of the perfect tomatoes, and all of the spices you can imagine are taken from the provinces and brought in to flood the marketplaces in the city.

Even better, from the high country, there is a special harvest that only comes at this time of year. It comes from the deeper, dark valleys and from the high, steep sides of the ravines that protect our city. This harvest of course is the special grapes that are made into the ice wines. Here, high in the mountains, the first nightly freezes that signal winter along with the early sporadic snows descend upon the grapes and change them into something special. The grapes ripen in the pristine air, and then freeze, the early frost hitting them hard high in the mountains. From those special grapes the ice wines are made. The grapes are frozen, and almost dry, concentrating their juice. The wine that comes from these grapes is like no other wine on earth. It is rich, and full bodied, and it's sweeter than sweet. These unique wines are perhaps the finest wines you can find in all the world.

On the last weekend on the first month of fall, the Harvest Festival is held to celebrate the bounty and richness of our land. It starts early on Saturday morning, and goes on continuously all night, and throughout the entire next day. It is a night filled with music and dancing. There are street mimes and families and kids out for the night, and there are street booths of carnival games that are going on everywhere. It is this atmosphere that brings the people, and they come from every province in the land. People flock to the city, and while the Harvest Festival isn't as big as other festivals in the year, its still a lot of fun and there is a uniqueness to it that makes it my favorite event of the year.

My name is Albert Hennison, and I wouldn't miss this event for anything. My wife isn't into it, as she doesn’t do crowds of people, so I usually just come alone. We don't get along that well anymore anyway, and if divorces were allowed I'd probably have already had one. Still, I order her around and she does my bidding, like a good woman is supposed to do. Still, as relationships go we don't have one anymore, and I don't treat her well and I know it. I'm stuck with her though and she is stuck with me, and so I do the things I want to do, even though I usually have to do them alone.

This year I decided to bring along our only son, a thirteen year old lad by the name of Christopher. He is with his friend, Thomas, a boy of fourteen who is visiting with us for the summer. He has to leave for home in a week, and I knew with him here there was no way not to take them both and let them experience it together. Thomas's father is a good friend of mine, and since they moved to the Eastern province we don't see them much anymore. Thomas is a good kid too, and together the two boys have a lot of fun together. My wife didn't want me to bring them, which of course made me want to bring them even more. I think it does a boy good to see the festival, and there is plenty to do and lots to eat and the entire thing is an experience that I think most boys cherish.

It’s a beautiful Saturday, and the afternoon sun is low in the sky when we get to the festival. I have given each boy 25 degos to spend on games, and so the boys are excited and anxious to see and do as much as they can. As I walk with my son and his friend through the city, checking out the markets and smelling the balls that are cooking, I am feeling hungry. Of course, the boys are enjoying themselves, and their eyes dart about as they try and keep track of all that is going on. Thomas turns his head as a woman goes by, dressed in her tight halter with her nipples pushing out the fabric. The woman was beautiful, and he was quick to notice.

Everywhere you look there are people -- on the street, the sidewalks, and in and out of the shops and stores. All the shops stay open, and the city is busy and the party atmosphere goes on throughout the night. The street side restaurants are full, and from the gates of the city you can see the throngs of people still arriving. The people flock to the festival, and the city is overflowing over the weekend it is held. There is a richness of items for sale, and during the Friday and Saturday of the festival there are booths and stands set up everywhere. Hawkers make their sales and the outdoor eateries are filled to capacity. There are street vendors selling fresh fruit, fine tobacco, and the rich blue mountain coffee from the Western Province.

Everything is fresh, everything. The berries are all picked within a few hours of the festival's beginning, and the beans and the corn and the other produce from the fields are continuously being picked and brought in from the fields. For the two days of the festival, it is the finest food in the land. Even the slave nuts are fresh, and in fact, for the two days of the festival they are cooked to order. This is the only time of the year when you can find the restaurants serving fresh balls, taken right off the slaves as soon as you order them.

I guess the slaves are probably one of the main reasons I brought the boys. My son is still a boy, but Thomas has started to push his way into manhood and you can see the wisp of hair starting to grow on his upper lip. I personally think it is good for a boy to see some slaves be unmanned, as it helps them to see their place in the world. A man without balls is nothing. As a plantation owner its important my boy learn the status of a slave, so when his time comes he won't be afraid to nut them if it become required. There is one more reason to bring the two boys. There is an old saying that when you eat a man's balls you gain his virility, and even if its only partially true I think for a boy on the verge of manhood it is something worth doing.

All of the food booths are different. Some of the vendors nut the slaves as they see fit, cooking up their balls in batches. Those places aren’t my favorite, but they are faster and the balls are still fresh. Still, they aren't right off the slave, and consequently I don't think they are quite as good.

The types of food booths that I prefer allow you to pick out the sacs of testicles you want to eat before they are taken. I find it a lot of fun really to actually look at the men, staring into their eyes as I contemplate having their balls for my dinner. Its fun to look them over, and some of the places will actually let you feel the sacs before you decide. The best part is watching their expression change as I make my selection and they know they will be castrated. I almost always go to the stands where you have the choice. Regardless of where you buy them, all the balls served during the festival are very fresh, and there is nothing better than a hot plate of man nuts cooked to perfection. Add a glass of ice wine, and you've defined heaven on earth.

What makes this possible of course is the support of the Council of Elders and their contributions to it. There are tax advantages too, and almost all of the slave pens loan out their slaves for the festival and the regular selling stops until the festival is finished. It’s a lull in the trade, but there is enough going on and an auction would be distracting.

Besides the thousands of slaves that are there for nutting, there are also usually some prisoners that give their balls, or more, to the festival as well. That normally takes place at the far southern edge of the big square. Technically, it's still within the bounds of the festival, but just barely and many party goers will never get down that far. Still, its worth it to go and watch as the prisoners are brought down for their punishments. It all depends on how many, and what their crimes were, as to weather it is worthwhile to go there and watch. Still, for prisoners who require castration or the removal of their cocks, then coming to that end of the square can be exciting.

Slave cocks cannot be purchased, for any price, because the success rate is low and the risk is high. There is no benefit for a pen owner to take that risk, and since the slaves are only loaned to the eateries for the duration of the festival nobody wants to take the chance of losing one. The cost of a slave is way too high to take a chance and cut his cock. But for a prisoners being punished its another matter altogether, and nobody cares if their castration does not go well. For those convicted of a sex crime, their cock is usually taken from them along with their balls.

During the Harvest Festival, there are usually one or too outdoor cooking grills set up next to the punishment areas, so that as the prisoners are unmanned their genitals can be cooked. I've never tasted one, but I've been told that there is nothing better than to have a hard cock, tied off and engorged with blood, fresh grilled to perfection. The men that owned them aren’t slaves of course, but still they taste the same, and if prisoner genitals are available the prices are cheap and the meat is good.

This year, there has been quite a bit of crime, and there should be no shortage of prisoner scrotums and penises. In fact, during the two days of the festival I've learned that almost two hundred criminals will be unmanned for various crimes in the city. If they do them continuously, then they will do about four an hour, dragging them out and unmanning one of them about every fifteen minutes or so. Not all of them will survive their ordeals, and if they die then so be it. Still, there are cocks that can be bought, and that’s not something you can normally find. But, during the festival, they are at least available even if their sausages are somewhat pricey.

Most years, there are only one or two prisoners, so I don't bother seeking them out. Instead, I just normally wander among the various licensed eateries, looking at the slaves waiting to be selected. The men are all tied, and are usually hooked up to a post or a rail, where they are kept on display during the entire festival. At some of the stands you just stop and make your selection, literally picking out the slaves with the sacs of balls you wish to eat. As soon as you do, the slaves are pulled to a cutting rail, usually next to your table, and are then nutted as you watch. The entire process is done quick, so that the balls are as fresh as possible. As soon as they are taken, they are quickly prepared for cooking, and then are roasted while you sip your wine and watch.

The cutters are hired by the cooking tents and restaurant booths, and while they do get paid for their services their fees are low and much of it is a donation to the community. Nothing is wasted, and the slaves that do get selected for dinner survive their ordeals and are sold after the festival. In fact, once they are nutted they are returned to the pens from which they came, to later be sold as a castrated eunuch for a much higher sum than they would otherwise bring.

It’s a good deal for everyone. The slave yards get some of their slaves nutted for free, which enhances the price and value of the men they own. The city has the festival, and gains the taxes and the revenue from the influx of visitors. And the restaurants and outdoor cookeries serve the freshest meat, in keeping with the spirit of the festival and make money on their sales in the process. The balls are free to them, and so its all a profit and they make good money. Cooked balls are popular, and its fun to walk the city and sample the various recipes. During the two days more than 5000 slaves will be nutted, and it seems everywhere you walk there are men and boys losing their balls to feed the hordes.

Depending on where you go, and which eating establishments you attend, the prices very from five degos for a mere sample serving to more than twenty for a full plate served with a drink and vegetable. Most of the meal plates require two scrotums, as a hungry man can eat a couple of sacs of nuts pretty easily. Still, when served with a drink and a potato four big balls are enough to fill any man. I'd have to say most of the outdoor cookeries will give you a plate of four balls for between twelve and fifteen degos, which isn’t a bad deal when you consider that it usually comes with a glass of wine. If the wine is an ice wine, or is an especially good table wine, then it will be more. Of course, if the balls are small and more are needed to make a meal then the price may be somewhat higher. Still, for less than fifty degos you can have a hell of a night, and eat your way through the festival sampling the freshness of the great harvest.

Personally, what I enjoy the most is walking among the vendors and trying out the various recipes. I love fried testicles, and I could eat more than a dozen if I munched on them all night. But I also like them cooked other ways, and I'd have to say they are also good boiled and grilled and even sautéed. One dish I especially like is made from younger slaves. Their balls are always super tender and when seasoned carefully and slow-cooked there is no finer dish on the earth. My favorite dish of all the dishes is a simple order of young skinned slave balls sautéed in a white cream sauce, complete with fresh portabella mushrooms and cooked with a sweet mountain onion and a clove of fresh garlic. Of course, the secret to the great taste is the freshness of the order, and its fun too to sit and watch as the nuts are taken and processed per your order. In some ways that is as much a part of the festival as the actual eating.

"Father, that boy is looking at me.......can we go there and get something to eat?"

Christopher's voice surprises me, and I look to where he is looking and I see the slave, staring, just before the boy looks away and tries to blend with the others. So, Chris has spied dinner perhaps? The slave is blond, and tall, and I estimate his age at the most to be seventeen. He's a strong teenager, and his body is well proportioned and muscular. Chris likes him, and wants to try his balls, and I can see the look and understand the feeling. It is fun to choose a male that doesn’t want to be chosen, to take his nuts and then eat them for your dinner. I can see Christopher is into this, and is enjoying the idea, and the power, and that makes me smile.

I toss his hair, and then the three of us make our way in that direction. There isn't any line, and we are seated by the head waiter, and I order a glass of ice wine as we stare at the slaves to the side. There is a trio of musicians playing and I like the music and they are good. Thomas picks out a boy, about the same age as he is. I notice the boy's scrotum is rather small, and when I point that out to Thomas he says: "Well, perhaps I should order another set?" I decide we will try a sample here, and then move on down the square and see what else is available.

I look down the line of slaves. There are perhaps thirty on this side of the restaurant to choose from. There is a middle-age slave near the end that is big, and a little on the fat side. His prick is long, and beautiful looking, and he has a big, fat sac, to match. I feel my mouth water as I contemplate his big, cooked nuts, and I point him out to the waiter. As I do, I can see the slave watching, and his face goes white as he realizes he has been chosen.

As I sip my wine the three slaves are dragged off their posts and pulled to a rail that runs along the edge of the outdoor restaurant. The rail has been set up just for the festival. There are wooden posts at regular intervals all along the rail, so that the post are between our table and the rail. The wrists of our slaves are already bound together, so the restaurant employees just throw the loose end of their binding rope over the rail and then tie it to the post in front of them. That pulls their bodies up over the fail so that the rail hits them at their waist. Their two legs are pulled apart, and then leather straps are tied around their ankles, to iron pegs that have been driven deep into the dirt. It only takes a few seconds, and the three slaves are trussed out over the rail then, their legs spread into that inverted "V" and their bodies bent forward and helpless.

I love seeing a man tied in that position. His balls are totally free, and hanging, and they are exposed and open and oh-so-vulnerable. At the same time they are exposed, and nothing on their body is left to the imagination. If they get hard you can see it, or if they are soft and scared you will know it. If they squirt semen it will splash on the floor, under them, and the mess does not have to be cleaned off of their bellies. It’s a simple matter to take their balls, as they can't stop you and their balls are totally exposed. You can see the ring of hair around their holes, and watch them struggle as you nut them. Still, they are powerless to stop you, and so they can struggle all they want and in the end they will still be castrated.

The three we have picked out are begging us, but not for long. The employees gag the three, and after that they just squirm and mumble into their gags. The three are staring at us, and their faces are only a few feet from our table and you can hear them breathing rapidly. Their fear pulsates, and their bodies glisten with their sweat. My son is looking hard at the boy whose balls he is about to eat, and I can see that his friend Thomas is fascinated as well as he watches the process unfold. My slave is a big man, and he's struggling now, and the sweat is dripping from his armpits as he struggles to stop the inevitable. He has a big cock, and a huge sac to match, and from our vantage point you can see every hair.

Speaking of sex hair, the teenage slave Christopher chose is well into manhood, with a thick blond bush above his young cock and a full and hairy scrotum to match it. The look of fear in his eyes is hard to describe, and while he knows what is about to happen he is powerless to stop it. Still, he jerks hard and struggles over the rail, and as the boy struggles we all watch his prick grow hard.

Thomas's slave is really just a boy, and his scrotum is small and undeveloped. I really don't feel like nutting him, but I want to let Thomas make his own decisions and at least the nuts will be tender. The boy is just a mess, crying, the tears running down his face as his balls wait to be noosed.

We sit like this for several minutes, watching our slaves as they await their castrations. Across the restaurant, at another table, I see their establishment's cutter as he nuts two men. They are gagged too, and they scream into them, and then in what seems like an instant they are ball-less beings. They literally collapse over the rail, all the fight gone from them when they lost their balls.

The cutter doest take too long, and then soon he's at our table. He says hello, and then walks behind the two boys and the man we have chosen, feeling their bouncing bottoms and running his hand up and over their nuts. One by one he hefts them, and then he pulls down on their sacs and stretches them, pulling down hard on their nuts and gripping their sacs. He just reaches up, between their legs with his other hand, and that’s when I notice the loop of leather, already tied with the cinch knot of his trade. As the three of us watch, the cutter encircles the sac of slave balls and then snaps it closed. As he does that to the blond boy he grunts, and his eyes are wide then, and after that the boy is going crazy as he struggles. Boy, he does not want to lose his balls!

The slave Thomas picked out is crying like a kid, but it doesn’t matter and the cutter ties his balls just the same. He can't believe the feeling, and once they are tied the young boy is jerking wildly, struggling hard and trying desperately to pull his legs together. There is no hair above his prickle, and his small balls look like grapes ripe for the picking.

Finally, the cutter nooses the nuts of the big man, and as it's done he fights hard, yelling into his gag. The slave's eyes are wide open, and he fights with an intensity that is hard to describe. Up and down the big slaves moves his ass, his big muscles rippling in his desperation to save his fat sac of manhood.

The cutter pulls out his knife, and reaches up to the big man and moves the blade to just under the tie. He's got his sac in one hand, and the knife in the other. The slave is staring at me, and we are looking eye to eye when the cutter makes the pull and takes his scrotum. The entire sac comes off clean, and as it happens the man's prick ejaculates just as his entire body shudders. His semen jets out in spurts, and it squirts wasted into the dirt between his legs. Still, you can smell his semen as he shoots his last wad, and as it's happening it makes me smile.

The cutter drops the entire scrotum into a metal bowl, and then moves to the older teenager who is waiting next. As he approaches the boy you can see his desperation, and he is shaking so hard that the entire rail is wiggling. Still, he can't get loose, and there is no mercy from the cutter as he reaches for his nuts. Again, he holds the sac of living testicles in his left hand, and takes the knife in the other. There is a moment of hesitation, and the teenager is staring at the three of us, staring at the three that have bought his nuts. He's helpless, and begging, with his eyes, but even so he seems to know that he's about to be castrated. Perhaps he's resolved to it. I don't know for sure, but then just before the pull is made the boy's cock explodes, and he too is suddenly spurting out his teenage load and dumping it into the dirt between his legs.

Suddenly, his eyes go even wider, and he screams into his gag, and that's when I realized that the cutter has taken his nuts and they are free and in the bowl. His entire scrotum is still pulsating, like a cat in a bag, the boy's teenage sac pulsating and moving like it has a life of its own. That movement goes on for several moments, until, finally, it is done and the boy is unmanned.

Finally, the cutter moves to the kid in the line, the boy who is crying and desperate to keep what could make him a man. I can see his arm pits are hairless, and I have the thought he will never know manhood is really all about. It seems in a way unfair really to nut him, before he's a man, and yet Thomas looks so excited I suppose its OK. The cutter reaches up and doesn’t hesitate, and with a single, expert stroke, he pulls the knife right through the little scrotum, taking its two nuts and ending the boy's manhood potential in that single instant. The lad doesn’t shoot any sperm, and instead just grunts, loudly, into his gag before he collapses over the rail.

It is done. In seconds, the silver bowl is delivered to the counter, where we watch the cook open the sacs and remove the orbs inside. The cutter has moved to another table, and is beginning the process once again. Meanwhile, the cook splits the balls we have ordered and then as we watch he peels off their outer layer, and fillets open the nuts and then finally rolls them in flour one by one. Soon, you can hear them sizzling in the grease as he fries them up.

They pop and sizzle, and I sip my ice wine and watch them cooking. Soon enough they are a golden brown, and that’s when they are served up to us, fresh from the grill and hot off the slave. The three slaves are still over the rail, staring at us, as we receive their cooked balls on our plates. I enjoy the garden fresh green beans, and then savor the slices of balls that I have ordered. They are a little tough, and somewhat gamey, but it's been a while since I tasted man-nuts and so I am not totally disappointed.

Christopher is grinning as he eats the teenager's balls, chewing slowly and smiling at the boy who has given them up. He says his are delicious, and perhaps I should have gone for a younger set. My son winks at the ball-less teenager, grinning as he takes another bite of the eunuch's nuts. You can see the look of loss in the slave's eyes, the longing and the humiliation of watching his own balls being devoured by a boy even younger than him. Too bad...he's a slave, and a castrated one at that and I have little sympathy for him.

Thomas gets his plate of balls and seems disappointed by their size. They are even smaller now that they have been cooked and there isn't much left to eat. Still, he eats them quickly, just gulp--gulp and they are gone, the two little testicles so small they seemed almost insignificant. My plate of nuts have been sliced, and so I pass some of the fried slivers down to Thomas for him to try. He doesn’t like them as much, as they are chewy and strong, but still the boy eats them anyway. Soon our plates are empty. We top off the meal with thee bowls of fresh and perfectly ripened blackberries, covered with fresh cream and sprinkled with sugar. There is a hint of semen in the whipped cream, and perhaps it is the odd flavor of it that makes them so good.

We leave the eatery then, and head out into the city, our appetites only wetted now for more nuts to eat. There are of course slaves everywhere, and lots of restaurants, and I only wish I could try them all. Thomas is looking sideways, and he trips in the street and staggers forward, running into a big busted woman who is walking the other way. The boy jumps back, and apologizes, but the woman scorns him anyway. Then she turns to me, and yells, telling me to keep my boys in line or leave them at home. I apologize to her as well.

Thomas and Christopher stare at her, as she chastises me. She has huge, fat tits, and they are lifted up and are separate by the leather halter she is wearing. She's dressed in leather pants as well, and they are so tight against her body they cannot be comfortable. It's obvious to me she is a woman of pleasure. The boys are innocent, and have no idea, but then the woman turns to Thomas and said "What are you staring at boy? Want to fuck already? You need to play with your cock a few years first, and once you have had the practice come and find me." My mouth drops open, but before I can speak she if off and gone into the night. Christopher giggles, as does his friend, and then we are off once again on our festival adventure.

Soon we come to the central square, where the games are running non-stop. There are game booths everywhere. You can see floating boards, with prizes painted on the bottom, and there are darts to throw and arrows to shoot. One booth has round leather balls they you try and throw into a bucket that is mounted high on a post. While it looks easy it is clearly not. Several teenage boys are trying anyway, spending their money to impress their dates, who are standing behind them cheering them on.

There is a betting game going on off to the side, and the boys want to stop and check it out. I can tell they are intrigued by the gaming area, and they want to stay and spend their money. I have other plans, as I want to get to the edge of the square and check out the prisoner's area before they have all been done. I really want to try a cock, and am afraid I'll miss the opportunity again this year if we linger too long. Still, I take the break and let them watch the game. There are three young men, standing, with their arms tied behind them and each secured to a post. They have a rag stuffed in their mouths, and a leather cord secures it in place.

They are standing with their legs spread, and their cocks are stiff, pointing upward. They all look to be in their late teens or early twenties, but it's hard to tell, as they've been shaved clean and their pubic hair is missing. Even their legs have been shaved, or plucked perhaps, and they are as smooth as young pre-pubescent boys. Their cocks are a lot bigger though, and their balls are the balls of men. Their hairless scrotums have all been tied, with a leather cord, and their young balls are bulging and are an off color. The cords hang down, and under each of them there is a bucket, tied to the cord and suspended well off the ground, hanging there, literally, by the balls of the boys. The bucket in the middle is hanging down more than the others, and the sac of that slave is distended, stretching out in an almost grotesque way. The boy who is feeling it is in obvious pain.

The hawker is taking bets. In front of the three is a long table, and there are three lines across it, dividing it up into three areas, one for each slave. The areas are there to place your money. There is quite a pile of degos on the table already, and more bets are being taken. As the bets are made the coins associated with them are placed on the table. The man running the booth puts a wooden marker which has been marked with a number, on top of each pile of money, and gives a matching marker to each man who has placed his bet. Soon the table is full of piles of coins, one for each bet that has been made.

I can see the deck of cards in the middle, and a half dozen or so cards have already been turned over. As we watch, the hawker ask if there are any more bets, and seeing that there are not, he reaches to the cards. He pulls off three more, one, two, three, and lays them out, one in front of each of the tied boys. King -- Jack -- two of spades.

The crowd around the table roars, and there is some groaning too then. The hawker matches the degos on each of the piles on the area of the table that has been designated to the first boy, the one who has the King card. As soon as that is done the men around the table quickly turn in their wooden coins and retrieve their winnings. After the bets have all been paid, the hawker pushes the rest of the money together, and then picks it up in two handfuls at a time and drops all of it into the bucket hanging from the scrotum of the boy who has the two of spades. As the heavy coins drop into his bucket he grunts, and his eyes go wide, and you can see him try and pull his legs together. His balls too distend, and the tremendous weight of the coins stretches them out.

Then, as the crowd counts it out, the hawker moves to the loser's cock and gives it two, swift pulls, jacking it up and down ONE TWO to correspond to the card he has drawn. The boy's cock is straight up, and gets even stiffer from the attention. The pull on his balls is something to see!

The hawker then moves to the second youth's cock, the one with the heaviest bucket and behind the Jack, and grabs his pole and pumps it with vigor. "ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR-FIVE-SIX" the crowd yells as he makes the strokes, working the boy's cock up and down, stroke after stroke.

The boy's eyes are wide too, staring, staring at the hawker as he gets his cock pumped. He's looking at the Jack, and feeling the ten pumps on his cock it has brought him. Then, as he stares at his own cock being pumped his eyes go wider and he jerks his head form side to side. "No--no--no" he seems to say. Suddenly, as the strokes go through EIGHT, then NINE, the boy just starts to ejaculate and his wad of teenage cream shoots upward. His eyes are wide open then, with fear, and the crowd groans, although a few applaud.

The hawker stops the stroking then, and as we watch he just takes his knife from his belt and shrugs his shoulders. Even untouched, the young slaves cock continues to bounce up and down, pulsating in the air, and with its load of semen still oozing out. Then as we all watch, the hawker moves the knife to the boy whose cock has spurted. He starts struggling then, jerking his feet against the pegs and rocking back and forth against his bonds in a useless gesture to get free and save himself from being castrated.

As we all watch the hawker reaches to the youth's balls which are stretched out tight, the leather tie pulling them down from the weight of the bucket. Then, very slowly, and with a big grin on his face, the hawker just starts to saw his knife back and forth, back and forth, slowly slicing right through the boy's scrotum just below the tie. The lad screams into his gag like a wild man as it is being done, and then, with a crash, his bucket of heavy coins falls free and drops to the ground, even as the boy's load of semen is still drooling out his dick. I'm not sure I totally understand the contest, but now there are only two slaves left. For the castrated one, he feints then, literally, and two men, obviously helpers at the booth, untie the boy and drag him off to the side.

The hawker calls for another round of bets, and the money is flying, the odds apparently improved this time as the contest chances go to one in two. This time the money piles are huge, and there are so many people betting so much money that the table can hardly carry the weight of it. I have to admit it is an interesting game, and I am tempted to place a bet, but I don't want to set the wrong example for the boys.

Thomas however pulls a tenner out of his pocket, and his eyes are lit up and its obvious he just wants to do it. I don't know, but hell, at fourteen sometimes you need to learn things the hard way. I nod, and Thomas pushes out his single ten dego coin, and I let him, although I warn him that these carnival games are hard to win. Still, the boy's have money, and if they want to hawk it on games then that is OK with me. Even losing teaches a valuable lesson. Thomas places his bet on the boy whose bucket is empty.

Once again the cards are drawn, and when they are turned over there is a gasp in the crowd. Two aces. Everyone groans and the hawker smiles, a big, toothy grin as he makes his money. Without a word he begins to pick up all of the piles of money and toss them in the buckets, the coins so heavy that both boys are screaming as they take the loads. Obviously, ties go to the house. The remaining youth, whose bucket was already heavy, is shaking as it is filled with his coins. He's jerking, fighting the bonds, and the bucket sags, and then sags some more, and as we all watch the boys scrotum stretches out so far that the bucket is almost on the ground. His balls are turning a dark color, and its obvious the bucket is slowly castrating him.

Then, the hawker reaches to the boy's cocks, one after the other, and gives them each a single pump, corresponding to their cards. It doest do much, but the two single strokes keep the boy's hard if nothing else, and that's something.

Again, the bets are taken, and the money flies even faster this time. Almost two out of the three bets are being placed on the first boy. Thomas wants to bet again, but I shake my head and stop them. The game doesn’t looked rigged, but it's hard to tell. My son wants to bet and how can I say no since I let the other. I nod OK, and as I watch Christopher places his single coin on the first boy, the one whose bucket is hardly filled. The other boy looks half castrated already, so it's hard to see how he can lose. No matter what, he's only bet a fiver, so he's being careful, and I smile when I see it and nod my head. I figure win or lose this can be a valuable lesson, and the real winner is obviously the man who is running the booth.

Finally, once again the piles of money lay on the table and the betting is done. The cards are flipped, and the first boy gets a Queen and the second boy, the one with the dark scrotum, gets a nine of clubs. The expression on his face when he sees it is priceless, and in that instant he knows it is done. The crowd roars, and the hawker pays out the bets, matching the bet with pile after pile. The marked wooden coins are turned in and the winnings removed from the table. Christopher is grinning, as he holds a matching fiver, and his eyes are bright and he seems excited.

Then, as we all watch, the rest of the money corresponding to the losers is scraped together and the hawker begins to toss it into the loser's bucket. The boy screams into his gag, and as the piles of money drop into it you can see the boy grunting, his sac stretching even more. For a second it just hangs, and then, suddenly the boys cock starts to pulsate and his semen just pumps out the tip, even before the hawker has had a chance to feed him his nine strokes. It's almost as if the slave has given up, the last load of his life now pumping out spontaneously. The crowd loves it! Then, just as the hawker reaches for his knife the bucket crashes to the ground on its own, the boy's nuts just no longer able to contain the weight of coins. In a way, it's almost like they just surrendered. It hits hard, but does not spill over, and the remains of the youth's nuts land on the top of the coins inside of it. The hawker laughs, as all of us do, and then it is over and the hawker collects his money. The three buckets of money he has made are something to see.

I drag the boys away, as I need to get to the section where the prisoner are done. I am afraid I will miss it, if I haven’t already. They do not want to go. They are intrigued by the gaming area, and want to check things out some more. I almost let them, but we haven’t eaten much and I am getting anxious now to get to where I need to go. Disappointed, the boys come, but as we are walking away, Christopher and Thomas keep looking back, as three more slaves are being brought out and tied into position. That booth is quite the racket, and yet the crowd there is large and it seems they are enjoying it.

It’s a long way across the square, and I almost get lost. The boys are mad at me. As we reach the south edge of it, the crowds are thin and there are no more stands. I am about to give up when I see another crowd, and it is there that we go. As soon as I arrive I can see I've missed something. There is a body of a man, only the head has been removed. The body is on a large spit, slowly turning, cooking really, over a wooden fire. It's been on a while, as the skin is cooked and red, and in a way it looks like a hog looks when you are cooking them whole. The man, if you want to call it that, is pretty much cooked already, and without a head on the body it's hard to make much out. I turned to a gentlemen watching and ask.

"What's going on? Are they cooking the prisoners?"

He turns to me, and said: Yeah, the've already done all the murderers. There were only two this year. The first was castrated, and then he was hung. They did him earlier, as soon as the festival officially started. The bastard struggled for quite some time before he finally quit his jerking. They had him gutted and on the spit right away, and if you want to taste him there might be some left on the other side. He's good, I'll tell you that! You can get a shredded BBQ sandwich for only a single dego."

"This fellow here killed four girls. I knew one of them, and so I had to come. They nutted him first, and then they took his cock, and then they let him feel that for a while. He sure didn't like being a eunuch! He was really a screamer, and he begged for mercy right up to the moment when they stuffed his mouth and took his head. I was glad when the blade shut him up. Yeah, they probably did him a favor, as he sure didn't like it when they nutted him. It was a good show though, and I'll never forget his expression when they shoved his balls in his mouth. Yeah, after that he was chewing on his own nads until they took his head. Well, he got what he deserved I say. Yeah, that's what I say it is. I was glad when they chopped the bastard's head off. They didn't cook up his genitals though, and if you want a look his heads over there, on a block of ice. His balls are still in his mouth I think. If you came to try him you'll have to wait a while."

I'm disgusted by his conversation, but I find myself saying: "What about cocks? Are there any cooked cocks for sale?"

He looks back at me and grins. "Well, they are gonna do six or seven dozen at six. You can buy a number now, so you don't have to wait in line. I've already got mine, and I think there are a few still left for purchase."

He pointed in the direction of the cock sales, and I headed off, in a hurry. I turned around to ask the boys if they wanted one, but there weren't with me! Shit! Well, I hunt for them for a few minutes, and then just make the purchase anyway. Damn, they weren't cheap, but still, at twenty degos I want to try one and its only during a festival when they can be had at all. I like the idea too, as there is something about eating a man's cock that makes my mouth water. They say it's especially sweet when it is filled with cream. Well, I'll know soon enough.

After I have my tickets I start looking for the boys. Damn, where did they go? I wander all over the area, but they are no where to be seen. I am not happy, and I spend more than an hour looking for them. They certainly wouldn't run off would they? Hell, finally I leave the square and go back to the gaming area, just on the chance the have gone there.

I find them ten minutes later, and I am so mad I can hardly stand it. They are throwing darts, trying to win a shaved ice desert which you could buy anywhere else for half the price of their darts. When I saw the targets they were throwing at though I almost laugh, and would have too if I was not so angry. The dart board was wood, with holes in it, and through each of the holes was a set of balls. Obviously, behind the wall there were slaves, backed against it and tied in place, with their scrotums pulled through the holes and cinched off and tied in place. Sure enough, if you looked close, you could see the leather tie around each scrotum, secured to the board and holding the man whose balls are in jeopardy firmly in position. The fat scrotums make for a hell of a good target.

Occasionally, when a dart strikes its target there is a tremendous scream, which is usually followed by laughter from the crowds watching. Reading the sign, the game was set up so that when you pay your coins you get three darts, and if you managed to put two in a scrotum then you win the iced dessert, as well as the balls you have pegged. As I am reading there is a scream, and some applause, and I look up to see two darts stuck deep into one of the bigger scrotums on the board. There is one dart in each ball, buried deep, and from the way the sac was pulsating and bouncing it was obvious the man on the other side isn’t too happy about it.

The hawker just reaches over and pulls out the darts, and then he grabs the big sac and pulls, outward on it, so that it is stretched out from the board. At the top of the sac is a second cord, and it is obvious the entire sac had been double tied. As we all watch the man takes his knife and lays it flat against the board, and then he just saws it and severs the balls, slicing them off with a back and forth motion. As it was being done there was a lot of yelling and screaming from the other side, and then as the balls come free the yelling stops.

I didn't watch anymore, and turned my attention to the two teenagers who had disobeyed me. They knew they were in trouble, and I jerked them away from the booth and started yelling at them. The two boys apologized, but it didn’t sound sincere, and Christopher even giggled. I don't know why teenagers get like that, but my boy was starting to act out more and more, and the two of them together were feeding on one another. I almost took them home.

Almost, but then I had an idea and as soon as it popped into my head I wanted to laugh. I suddenly knew just what to do and when my wife found out that would piss her off for sure. Well, good I say! I started marching them off, forcing them in a way to follow me to a particular booth I knew. It was set up every year, and I knew just where it was and I needed it now. I dragged the two boys down to the end of the row of game booths, and then back down the other side, marching them with a determination they didn't dare try to fight. I think they knew I was angry, even though they giggled with each other. Thomas winked at Christopher, and I knew something needed to be done.

The booth I had in mind is very popular, especially among parents, and it's always a part of the festivals. It was a favorite of everyone, and now I needed its services. The boys had no idea, as neither of them had ever seen it. As we passed the other side of the dart booth you could see the slaves, tied in position and waiting with dread for their nuts to be darted. As we went by one of them yelled, and his entire body spasmed. Then he grunted again, and jerked, wildly, against his restraints, and his face was scrunched up in pain. Some skillful thrower had pricked his nuts, twice, and now he was fully boned, and his life as a young man was about to be over.

He started to ejaculate then as his balls took the darts. He squirted into the dirt, and I noticed there was a puddle there, a puddle of semen. I surmised that there must a lot of dart throwing going on, as it was obvious that many of them had lost their wads when they were castrated. There was quite a puddle, and it would have taken a lot of loads of spunk to make it. I wondered what those waiting for their darts must be thinking. Just then he spasmed, and his nuts came off, and under him, between his legs, you could suddenly see an empty hole in the board and the sunlight shined in where his scrotum had been. We were walking away too fast to see what happened next, but still the two boys with me kept watching until the booth was totally out of sight.

Finally, we arrived at the booth I was seeking. The sign over it identified it from far off, and there was a huge crowd of people gathered around it. There always is. There were a lot of kids there too, laughing at the boys on stage. The sign said "BAD BOYS PUNISHED HERE". I laughed too. It’s a great idea, and at every city festival itss set up, so that parents of misbehaving children can bring them to the booth where they are punished. Sure, there is a fee to pay, but it's worth it, and once a kid is made to visit the booth they usually just behave themselves and stay out of trouble from that minute on.

I dragged the kids up to the counter, and my son was begging me. I looked at him, and at Thomas, and then I said "You two took off, disobeyed me, and your manners are not acceptable. I'm not going to tolerate it, and you will both be punished. You will take your punishment, and if you argue with me I'm going to double it."

A couple of Christopher's friends were here, and when they saw he was in trouble they called out to him. My boy's face flushed crimson, and the look on his face was priceless after that. He really started begging me then, and I stopped him with a glare. Than I said "No more talking Christopher....or I'll pay them extra and you can do it nude." His face flushed crimson, and after that he stood there defeated, with his lower lip quivering.

I paid the coins, and selected the method of punishment. Parents could choose from straps, paddles, or birch branches. Then a couple of big burly men grabbed the two boys and pulled them into the tent, out of view of the crowd so they could be prepared for their session. On stage there were two little boys getting the strap. They were about eight or nine, and they got a half-dozen blows over their underwear. I didn't think they were being hit all that hard, but they yelled and the tears sure came. I think more so than the blows was their embarrassment, and after it was done and they were let go they ran to their parents and cried and cried.

The next kid was a teen, about seventeen, and he was being punished for smoking tobacco and being disrespectful to his parents. Also, from what they said, he had initially refused to go to the punishment booth, and his parents had paid to have him brought there against his will. He was wearing his underwear when he came out on stage, and he looked like a strong young, defiant young man. His chest was smooth, but he had tuffs of hair under his arm pits and his legs were long and muscular. As I watched this big man strapped him down, well, and then with a jerk and a pull he just shredded the boys underwear so that he was stark naked. After that he picked up some birch branches that had been tied together, soaking in a bucket of brine and waiting for a bottom to flail. I think that caught the youth by surprise, and he stared in shock at the sticks that were waiting for him.

His cock stiffened, under him, and was pointed out, towards us. His balls hung down loose, dangling and visible to everyone watching. Then, with a nod from the boy's angry father the big man just started to bring the birch limbs down and across his naked ass, slamming those sticks so hard that pieces of them flew in all directions. WHACK WHACKKKKKK WHACKKKKKKKKKK, again and again he just ripped the birch right into him. It went on and one, the pieces flying as they flailed his ass. The insolent teen held it in for the first three, but after that he yelled and screamed and bucked against the ropes that held him. By the last stroke he was balling like the little boys, and was a well-flogged and very contrite young man. I also noticed that he lost his boner.

Next, he too was made to apologize to his parents, which he did, the tears streaming down his red face. He babbled out his apology, promising to be good and nice and polite from "now on." I almost laughed at the change.

Next, to my surprise, Christopher and Thomas were brought out on stage. There crime of disobedience was announced, and there was an "OHHHHHHHHHH... NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" from the crowd. The boys were dragged out and bent over this long padded barrel, obviously made to handle two miscretes at once. Soon they too were facing the crowd, staring at everyone that was staring at them. They were wearing only their underwear, and both of their faces were bright red, totally humiliated. The few in the crowd that knew Christopher were laughing hysterically, and my boy tried to look stoic as he waited for his well-deserved punishment.

A large, fat woman came out onto the stage then, and in her hand she held a big, flat strap of leather. The crowd laughed at her, and when the two boys looked over their shoulders and saw who was going to spank them and with what their faces flushed red. She had big lips, and giant, full tits, and then she said "Bad boys need to learn their manners, and running off and disobeying is bad bad bad." From the way she said it I think she used that phrase a lot.

Then, she took the leather strap, with a wooden handle attached to it, and held it up so everyone could see. Then, as the boys stared backwards at her, she said "Turn around boys, and face the crowd. You were bad boys, and everyone needs to watch you feel the sting." They turned around, and Thomas looked right at me. Christopher was staring at his friends, who were laughing at his position. Then, suddenly, without any other warning the big woman started strapping them, across their perched up bottoms, just smack smack smack as she laid it into them. She took turns, hitting one of them and then the other, and she didn't hold anything back.

Her big tits bounced as she swung that strap, and the reaction on the two boys was immediate. It was obvious it hurt like hell. Both boys were bobbing up and down, pushing their pelvises into the padded barrel, struggling to try and move their bottoms to escape the onslaught. Soon the tears came, in spite of their effort to keep them. They started crying then like well spanked little boys and the crowd loved it. She strapped them again and again, without any mercy what-so-ever, and as she laid that thing into them the boys struggled with a look of total disbelief on their faces. Finally, it was done, and the big woman told them to apologize to me. Thomas did, cried it out and apologized, but Christopher was more insolent and shook his head NO.

The woman didn't hesitate. Instead, in virtually an instant, she just reached down and pulled Christopher's little shorts half-way off, so that the waistband of his underwear rested at the bottom of his bright red butt, exposing his round little cherry-colored rump to everyone. The look on his face then was of total surprise, and before he could say anything she started anew on his bare little ass. Boy he didn't like that! She strapped it another dozen times, hard, and he flailed and pumped his hips and jerked in desperation as she worked that leather over his young teenage misbehaving bottom.

Of course, he screamed and screamed then, in total desperation, and I stared there watching as he paid for his defiance. When she stopped this time she didn't have to tell him to apologize. He blurbed it out, crying like a four year old, sobbing between his words, but he apologized, profusely, and in front of everyone. He had the look of a well-spanked little boy and the fight was gone from him. The crowd of people giggled as he apologized, and it seemed everyone approved of the way he had been taken down a notch. Finally, satisfied, the big woman untied them and they were given back to me.

When they pulled Christopher up and off the bench his little stiffy poked out the front of his shorts. Everyone saw the outline of his little boner, and even Thomas laughed at how little it was. You could my boy's face go bright red, and I knew that would hold him in line for a while.

Soon, they were dressed and I had made my point. I ordered them to follow me, and then as quickly as I could I left that section of the square and headed back to the area where the prisoners were being punished. I had my three tickets for cooked cocks, and I didn't want to miss them. This time the boys stayed with me, like good little kids, although I didn't make it easy as I was hurrying so. Still, as soon as I got there I knew I had missed most of the action. As we approached the end of the square they were unmanning the last twenty, taking their cocks and balls one after the other. We had no view, as the crowed had grown and so it was hard to see.

Still, I could see enough. The prisoners were older men for the most part, with big fat balls and thick, dark skinned cocks, and yet they were all hard and stiff and almost eager it seemed. Their cocks were all tied off, tight, as were their balls, and the cutters just used a red hot knife and let the blade melt its way through their genitals one set after the other. The cutters just went down the row of prisoners, nutting them and then decocking them. I would have liked to have known what they were being punished for, but it was obviously a sexual crime if they were losing their manhood. Still, it didn't matter. Soon enough we were seated at a table, and watching the fresh cocks I had reserved sizzle and pop as they were basted with garlic butter and cooked up on the grills.

The boys didn't look too hungry. Neither of the them had said a single word to me since I had had them punished, and I could tell that Christopher at least was having a difficult time trying to sit in his seat. The first words he spoke to be were when he asked if he could stand for dinner. I wouldn't allow it. I figured they ran off, they disobeyed me, and they got punished for it, and while that’s part of being a teenager they needed to learn I had limits.

We set in stony silence, and finally I said: "Listen, I know you guys like the game area, and perhaps we might go back there. But you can't run off, and I will be obeyed. Lots of kids, as well as a few men, have been punished there, so don't let it bother you too much. It’s a popular booth, and it always had a crowd. All the parents know about it. You screwed off, and you got burned. Live with it."

Of course, that didn't help, and they just glared at me and sat in silence. After a few minutes the waiter brought out our three plates, each with a big cooked cocks on a toasted bun, cooked to perfection. There is a trick to cooking them with the blood still inside, and yet if it is done right the cock stays stiff and bulges out on the bun. These were served with mayonnaise and mustard and fresh pickles, and there were plates of fresh sliced tomatoes on the side. There was also a garden salad, which was so crisp and cold it was hard to believe.

I enjoyed the cock dog, except that it was a lot tougher than I had expected, and I had a hell of a time biting into it. The skin split though, and it was juicy inside, and yet it was tough and wild-game tasting, like the balls I had had earlier. In a way it tasted like liver. I don't know, but perhaps the stronger flavor comes with the older slaves and prisoners. I tried, but after just two bites I couldn't eat the damn thing, and I was very disappointed it had not been tastier. I don't know, perhaps I was still upset too much to enjoy it.

Christopher ate his cock sandwich though, and seemed to like it as he chewed on it. Thomas on the other hand wasn’t impressed, but he was hungry enough and he got it down. We spent about a half hour there, and the place started to bother me. For one thing, the prisoner that was still cooking on the spit was pretty ugly looking, and the smell of him, as well as the rest of the place started to make me feel unwell. The boys weren't talking to me, and I wasn’t enjoying myself. I paid the bill and left then, headed off to more of the Harvest Festival and to find something new.

We came to a booth where pleasure women were being sold, and I could see the interest in the two boys. They were a little too young yet, and I didn't think Thomas's dad would appreciate it if I paid to have his son deflowered. Still, we listened to the barker, trying to lure us in, and the boys were excited and they wanted to go. This one woman was so damn hot it's hard to describe. She had firm, round breasts with sharp, pointed nipples, and her legs were long and shapely and shaved as smooth as a baby's ass. God I wanted her! I looked at my son and he was drooling, and I laughed then, and tossed Christopher's hair, and told them perhaps in a few years I'd take him back and he could do her.

He hated it when I tossed his hair, and perhaps that's why I did it. I liked fucking with him, showing him whose boss and putting him in his place. Still, the funny part of it all was that I was tempted. Hell, I hadn't had sex in a year, and I was horny as shit and the women looked hot. I was really in the mood for a good fuck, although married, and with my son along, it wasn’t an option. Still, it was funny that my son and I wanted the same thing. Well, too bad, and I'd just have to jerk off later like I always did.

On down the street we went. The boys were still hungry, as was I, and they spied another booth where the balls were sautéed. It really smelled good, and so we followed our noses. As soon as we were seated I noticed the slaves here were different. I think all of them were young, and the oldest one appeared to be sixteen or seventeen. I asked the waiter, and he said: "Senor, here, at this eatery, we serve only the tenderest nuts sautéed in the finest of wines. I swear to you they are as sweet as any balls you have ever had.

Hell, I was ready for a better meal, and so we ordered up three plates. I was told we needed to pick out six slaves, and I asked for his recommendation. He said the younger slaves are always best, and the sweet cream of the virgins made the dish especially sweet. I didn't care and let Christopher pick them out, as I wanted to get him talking again and put the pain in his posteria out of his mind. He grinned, just for a second, and then went over to the slaves and started studying them one at a time.

Christopher then surprised me. As he walked down the row of tied slaves, all of them, like him, just teenagers, hoping and praying he wouldn't choose them, he would point and talk to them as if he was a buyer looking carefully before he made a purchase. If a boy looked down, he would say "Look at me....". To another lad he said: "Lift your balls....". Down the row he went, speaking to the boys who were quacking with fear. "Spread those legs boy..." "I want to see your sac--don't hide it from me." "Hey you, I'm hungry...show me your scrotum!" "Squeeze it--let me see your balls!" I didn't know he could order someone like that, and I hadn't seen his bossy side before. He had potential, and someday he would be the man of his house, making the orders and having the family do his bidding. I pitied his future wife! Finally, he made his selections, and soon enough we had our order and the balls were being taken.

The teenagers Christopher has selected were dragged over to the rail right beside our table. They struggled all the way, and they sure didn't want to come. The oldest of the group was begging loudly, struggling and fighting and begging not to be unmanned. The restaurant employees didn't seemed to be phased by any of it, and even though the boys were struggling it didn't matter much. Soon there were pulled over the rail nearest our table, only in this restaurant they were tied so that they faced away from us. We were staring at their round white bottoms, and their dangling scrotums that hung down between their pegged out legs and held our dinners. The boys were gagged then, finally, and after that the leather ties were done, tight, noosing their teenage sacs one after another. The boys who my son had selected bobbed their bottoms up and down, swinging their sacs of tied balls and struggling with a desperation as they fought to keep them.

The cutter came out then and chatted with us, and explained the importance of making the harvest properly. She asked if we wanted to help, and both boys excitedly said they did. She gave the bowl to Thomas, and another vessel to Christopher. Then she said: "Ok...the cooks wants whatever cream we can gather, as well as the balls themselves." Looking to Christopher, she said "You there, you pump their cocks and collect their cream. As soon as you have milked them, I will take their balls. Lets get it done, and then they can make your dinner."

Christopher's eyes lit up and he seemed his old self then. My son took hold of the thin cock of the first youngster, and started pumping it up and down. He had to reach around him, and the boy was sweating, and he seemed to grunt as he struggled. He didn't like being jacked off, perhaps because he knew what was at stake if he came. Christopher didn't seem to know what he was doing, and as he fumbled with his attempt I had to bite my lip not to laugh. Finally, the woman explained how to do it, showing my son how to grip the shaft and rotate his wrist to give the slave the maximum feeling. She also showed him the sensitive spot under the head of his dick, and showed him how to bring his hand up far enough to touch it with each stroke. It was obvious from watching that Christopher wasn't jacking is own cock yet, and it occurred to me that perhaps Thomas would have been better suited to this task. At fourteen, he probably had a little more experience at it than my own thirteen year old son. At any rate, after only a few minutes, the first slave was shooting out his thin goo and Christopher was catching it all in the vessel, his old grin back and he laughing as the boy shot his last wad.

The kid was about fifteen, and he grunted out his load and thrust his hips forward, as if he was fucking. After it was done, the female cutter took the boys sac and held the knife right up at the top of his balls. The teen turned his head to face her, his eyes begging her for mercy. She smiled, and actually winked at him, and then, with a sweeping circular motion, she pushed the tip of her blade into him, filleted open his entire scrotum with a single pull. The boy grunted and spasmed, and his eyes went wide as she squeezed on his split scrotum and popped out his right nut. With a simple flick of the knife she had the ball. She did the other side of his sac the same way, so that in less than a minute he was castrated, his empty sac now hanging useless between his legs, a reminder of where his balls were stolen.

The second lad was younger, and he had yet to grow any hair. The woman told Christopher to skip the wad, as there wasn’t likely to be any. However, she had him hold the vessel in front of his little cock just in case. Then, she nutted him the same way, pushing her blade into the boy and twisting her wrist to open his sac. The first ball went easily, but when she took the second the boy screamed, loudly into his gag, and then in a surprise for everyone, the boy included perhaps, he jetted out a thin load and ejaculated into the vessel my son was holding to catch it.

The third male was about sixteen or so, and he had bright red hair. His bush was surprisingly thick, and the color matched the hair on his head. His sac was big and his balls hung down, heavy. He was just mumbling into his gag, as Chris took a hold of his stiff dick and started to milk his cream. The boy was looking over his shoulder, staring at us that were watching, and then he looked away and down over the rail and back at his own dick. He watched himself being milked, the stroking of my son's hand faster and faster, the woman cutter waiting patiently to steal his balls when it was done.

Suddenly, he arched his back and his muscles of his legs tightened, and he pulled his legs hard against the pegs as he began to ejaculate. My boy milked him until he was dry, catching every drop of his cream as he shot his teenage load. For some reason, watching it, my own dick was so hard it felt like a piece of steel. The woman stepped right up then, and took his balls in her left hand, holding the knife in her right. The boy stared outward then, into the street and away from us, and the people passing by stopped to watch his expression when his nuts were taken.

He grunted when she made the cut, and then as she squeezed out his ball he closed his eyes. She took the nut then, with a short jerk of her knife, and he jerked his entire body and pulled on the restraints in response. A woman, watching him from the street, laughed as it happened. The cutter shifted her grip, and then took his other ball the same way, making it look easy as she finished his unmanning.

The next boy in line was about the same age as the last, with dark hair. He was a Slav, plain and simple, and his ass was firm and he looked like a sex machine. He struggled so hard it's hard to describe, but he sure didn’t want to lose his balls. Chris started to jerk his pole, like he had done with the othres, but the woman didn't wait and reached for his balls. She said "This one doesn’t deserve to cum...I was hoping somebody would want him for dinner." Then, she pushed in her knife, and his eyes flew open, wide, and then as he was nutted he just ejaculated on his own. My son caught most of his wad, but it had come fast, and unexpectantly, and so part of it spurted into the dirt before he got the container in front of the slave's spurting dick.

The next boy in line was a blond, and he was about seventeen I think. He really hated the idea of a young boy doing this to him, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He just stared at the ground as my boy milked him, and he didn't make a move or struggle in any way. He just stared, down at the dirt, until he started squirting out his cream. Then he jerked a little, and his ass muscles rippled as pulled hard with his legs. Still, he shot his load, and after he did she took his balls.

When she pushed that knife into his sac he came alive, screaming into his gag and going wild then, struggling hard against his restraints as he felt it happen. He bucked his ass to, up and down, fucking the rail really, up and down and up and down. She never let go of his sac, but his struggles were so hard that it was hard for her to get the knife in the right position. Still, she was good, and she made the pull, and then when his ball popped out he struggled even harder.

That's when she got tired of him, and took his ball in her fingers and giving it a firm, hard squeeze, she said: "Stop...stop it right now, and quit your jerking. If you don't stop, I'll rip your balls out instead of making this easy. Now hold still and let me castrate you."

Surprisingly, the boy stopped his struggles, and she let go of his ball she had been crushing. Then, with a quick, fast flick of her knife, she took his nut. He didn't move, and just stared at the dirt, feeling the feeling and living his castration. She made the second slit, and he spasmed, and his leg muscles tightened as his instincts tried to pull them together. But the pegs held fast, and it was a useless gesture. Finally, she took his remaining ball, and then, with a few hard SLAPS on his rear, she finished with him and moved down the line.

The last male was probably fourteen. He looked a lot like Thomas, and his smooth legs and tiny bit of hair above his cock made him look so damn innocent. He fought like the others, but soon he too was squirting out his load into the little pot, filling it up with his boy cream as the woman waited to unman him. When she started he cried, the tears coming down his face as she took everything from him. Soon he too had an empty sac, just a flap of cut skin that was once his pouch, his empty scrotum a testament that he had once had balls.

She had done six boys, opened six scrotums; and taken a dozen balls to feed the three of us. Thomas carried the bowl of balls to the counter, where the cook thanked him and began his work. First, he took the skin and the outer membrane off of them, so that the little tender orbs were smooth little ovals that were white. He dropped them in a hot pot of salted boiling water next, to which he had added a cup of vinegar. In the boiling water he blanched them for a couple of minutes to get the last of the blood out.

Meanwhile, he was cooking up the fresh pasta noodles, and starting his sautee pan for the main course. After the balls had been washed and cleaned thoroughly, and he had blanched them white, he boiled them slowly until they were tender. I tried to chat up a conversation with the boys while this was done, but the conversation was pretty much one sides and I could tell the strapping session was still on their minds. All told it was probably a good twenty minutes before dinner was done.

I watched in silence as our meal was cooked. In his sauté pan the cook placed a minced onion, and some fresh garlic, and began to slow cook it over the flame. He kept the pan moving, and when the onion had been caramelized, he added to the fire and then sprinkled in salt, pepper, and a handful each of fresh parsley and oregano. Meanwhile, his apprentice chef sliced up the "boy oysters", carefully dividing each testicle into three pieces. He rolled them in Italian bread crumbs, and then dropped them one by one into the sauté pan.

They popped and sizzled, and he stirred them in and cooked them slowly, until they were hot and cooked through and were golden brown. He dissolved some corn starch in a cup of water, and added it to the pan of balls. Then, he added some wine, and then the load of semen was poured over the mixture, followed by a dash of hot red pepper sauce. After that, he just let it all simmer on a low flame until the sauce thickened. With a final dash of seasonings, it was done.

God it looked good! He dropped a handful of fresh boiled pasta on each of our plates, and then spooned out the oysters and sauce and placed them over the pasta noodles. Finally, a handful of fresh grated parmesan cheese and a few sprigs of fresh parsley on top, and dinner was served. Hot rolls were added to the table, and my wine glass was filled with ice wine. The boys were given fruit drinks, and they seemed to bubble from the mineral water they were made with.

It was the best dinner I had ever eaten, barring none. This time there was no gaminess. The balls were tender, and excellent, and with the first forkful I knew it was perfect. I smiled, and looked down at the slaves that had donated our dinner. Three of them were watching, staring really, as we ate their balls and savored the meal. The other three were resting, their eyes closed, as they lay their spent and unmanned, feeling the emptiness that only one whose been castrated can fully understand. I didn't care. They were just slaves, and my meal was perfect, and I ate every bit and so did the boys.

The boys finished their meal quickly, and seemed anxious to get going. They begged to go back to the gaming area, and I relented and let them go alone. I was tired of their silent treatment anyway. I didn't want to leave quite yet, as I was savoring my meal, tasting each morsel and enjoying the perfection of the blended flavors.

Before I let them take off, I gave them strict directions to meet me in the central square, in two hours time. I warned them both, if they didn't show, and told them in no uncertain terms that I'd take them back to the bad boy booth and we'd do the punishment thing all over again. That got their attention! I told Christopher I liked watching him squirm, and if he didn't watch it next time I'd have his ass strapped until it was purple. They understood when I asked, and when I said "I can't tolerate bad boys, and if they don't behave then they get punished. A bad boy should always get what he deserves!" Do you understand me?

I could see the anger in his eyes, as I had brought it all back up, but I have to make my points when I can and I didn't want them misbehaving while I wasn't watching them. They both answered "Yes Sir!" and I knew I had their respect at least, if not their full cooperation.

Anyway I let them go, and they headed off while I sipped my ice wine.

As I enjoyed the rest of my meal I watched the action around me. More slaves were being nutted, and that added to the dinner. This was a fun place, and I concluded as I enjoyed my dinner that the key was to find the balls when they are young. This place knew what they were doing, and their decision to only use the younger slaves really made a tremendous difference. Finally, I finished, and paid the bill, dropping a big tip on the table. After that, I started to wonder around, just walking where I went, not caring really where it took me.

I really wasn't sure where to go, and so I just walked and listened and took it all in. After about fifteen minutes of walking aimlessly I found myself back at the booth where the pleasure women were being sold. Of course, this time I was alone, and so I leaned forward and listened. As I listened to the barker I felt my prick stirring in my pants, and the prospect of a hot woman spreading her legs and begging me to fill her with my seed got me more and more excited. God, should I do it? The prices weren't that high, not really, and what the hell was my money for if not to bring me pleasure? With the boys out on their own, I was certainly tempted.

Still, I had never committed adultery. For one thing, it was a crime of passion, and if caught it did have consequences. Still, who would know? Besides, it wasn't like my marriage was going anywhere, and I knew the barker didn’t care and wouldn't ask any questions. The final straw was the woman, and when I saw her again my prick made the decision for me.

I gave a final glance around to make sure I didn't know anyone, and then, I moved up and dropped my money on the counter. The barker made me pay more, since I wanted her specifically, but I didn't argue and I gave him extra, to make sure I wasn’t hurried. This one woman was so damn hot I had to have her. Once the deal was struck, I entered the tent after her, my prick stiff in my pants. The woman turned and was on me then, pulling off my shirt, and then she started kissing me and reaching for my cock, fondling it, and it was then that I knew I was in heaven.

It didn't take her long, and soon we were both naked in the big fur bed, and I kissed her firm, round breasts and played with her sharp, pointed nipples. I ran my tongue around and around them, toying with them, feeling them and holding them and playing with them. God she was hot!

I heard some noises, and looked around to see that another man was coming into the tent, although he moved across the room and apologized before moving through a flap and into another room. I surmised they had at least two beds for fucking, and perhaps even more. I ignored him then, and went back to the woman, although I could hear them in the next room as they wasted no time to start fucking. For me, well, I was taking my time. I didn't want to hurry it, as I was into her smell and her looks and the perfection of what made her a woman, and so I didn't fuck her right away but instead held her and kissed her and enjoyed everything about her that I could.

Finally, she rolled over on her back and spread her legs, and I took the cue and mounted her. As I entered her it felt so wonderful, and I started pushing in and out and in and out. In the next room the man was cumming, and he screamed out with his orgasm and then it grew quiet. I kept up my fucking, working my cock in carefully, savoring every moment of what I had been missing. I heard the man leave again through my room, but this time I ignored him and didn’t even look his way.

I fucked her for several minutes, and began to feel the feeling as I started the climb

towards ecstasy. God sex can be so damn good! Suddenly, I heard a voice, and I froze, and then I had this feeling that bristled the hair on the back of my neck. I turned to look, and just as I did I heard his voice again and oh GOD....I was staring at the two boys, at Thomas and Christopher, and they were looking at me, buried to my balls inside the whore. My son looked at me, and my ass, and my balls and her pussy, and there wasn't anything I could say. The words came anyway: "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?"

Shit....there was a woman with them, and that explained it all. But my son was shaking, and he pointed at me and then he screamed at the top of his lungs: "HELLLLLLLLLLLP!!!!!! STOP HIM.....THAT’S MY FATHER....HE'S DEFILING MY MOTHER...HE'S MARRIED FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

The woman stared to struggle, and she pushed me hard on the chest and I popped out, my stiff dick bouncing up and down, the end glistening with a line of drool and just seconds before I would have squirted. She slapped me on the face, mad, and suddenly several big men, the bouncers obviously, were in the tent trying to figure out what the commotion was all about.

"What the hell's going on in here?" one of them said.

I stammered...and looked at my boy, my big prick bouncing up and down and the end glistening with my precum. The woman said, "It appears the bastard's married---he didn't tell me that!"

God. I started to go for my clothes, and my son said "Father...how could you? Mom deserves better!!!! I hate you--you ARE a bastard!"

I was shaking, and I turned to him angrily and said "SHUT THE FUCK UP CHRISTOPHER. YOU WILL SHUT UP OR I'LL HAVE YOU STRAPPED AGAIN."

My son squinted his eyes, and then the thirteen year old said defiantly: "Welllll....I don't think so father. You said that you couldn't tolerate bad boys, and if they don't behave then they get punished. A bad boy should always get what he deserves!" You are the bad boy father, a very very bad boy. You are the one who needs to be punished.

I swallowed. God. The woman said "Well, I know what he deserves alright. Where's the wife?"

Christopher was thinking, and then he said: "I think my father should be taken to the booth where the bad boys are punished. I'm sure they will know what to do once my mom gets there."

I almost yelled "YOU WILL NOT TELLYOUR MOTHER CHRISTOPHER!"

The barker had come in and was there, and he answered: "Well....I think the kid has a good idea. I'm sure your wife will want to know, and you wouldn't want your son to become a liar." Of course, he liked Christopher's idea, since it got the problem out of his tent and freed him to make more money. I protested, and started to order Christopher to leave, but I was smart enough to realize that the boy wasn't listening to me anymore. I demanded my clothes but that too was ignored. Instead, the two big men grabbed me by my arms and tied them behind my back. The trussed my knees together, so I couldn't run, and then the two big men stuffed a rag in my mouth and tied a piece of leather around my head to hold it in place. God! I was helpless, and they knew it. Then they started dragging me out of the tent and down the square toward the booth where I had taken the boys.

It was totally humiliating, being dragged that way, naked, right through the street like I was a slave. I mumbled but talking was impossible. My prick stayed stiff---I had been so damn close to ejaculating that it wouldn't go down. God it was a horrible feeling, and everyone I passed turned to watch.

It took about ten minutes and then there was the sign! "BAD BOYS PUNISHED HERE!" Fuck! What could I do? As we arrived the crowd parted and let me be pulled up to the counter. My son was doing the talking, about his bad father and the whore and about how I needed to be punished. The guy running the booth wasn't sure what to do, but he did agree with my son to wait until my mother arrived. The next thing I knew I was taken inside their tent, while Christopher and Thomas stayed outside and I assumed went to get her.

I was tied standing to a post, with my arms tied around it, behind me. My feet were tied to two pegs in the floor, so all I could do was stand and wait, my legs spread. Escape was impossible. After that I waited, and waited and waited some more. Lots of young boys came and went, and outside I could hear straps and paddles and even birch twigs teach the lessons one after another. I mumbled out my demands to be let go, but my words weren’t clear and everyone just seemed to ignore me. After a while I just gave up and waited.

About two hours after I had arrived there was a little kid in there, waiting for his spanking. He was pacing, waiting for it, and he just came over and stared at me. Suddenly, the kid reached out and slapped half-boner, which was almost down. He started toying with it, and of course it got hard all over again. I tried to turn away, but he was having fun, and with the ropes tying me down where I stood there wasn’t much I could do. The kid would smack it, like it was a toy, and my boner would bob up and down as he hit it. It started to hurt. Luckily, they pulled him away from me then and took him out onto the stage for his punishment.

About a minute later this man came into the room and walked up to me. He leaned over to me and pulled out the gag, and I swallowed, my mouth dry and sore from the dirty rag. He said: "I hear you are quite the bastard. Well, you are in the right place to be taught a lesson." I licked my lips, and opened and closed my mouth as it was stiff from the rag. As I stood upright, I looked down and was staring at my boner, and the glistening tip, just when my wife walked into the tent, with Christopher and Thomas at her side. She was mad, real mad, and when she saw my boner jutting up and into the air she was even madder than mad. I couldn't face her I was so humiliated. My eyes fell and I felt like shit...like a piece of dirt, and all I could think of to say was "I....I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

She looked at me, glaring, and then she said "No your not....you're just sorry you were caught. Well, at least the boys took you to the right place."

She walked out then, and I had this sickening feeling that can't be described. After a few minutes two big men came and got me, and dragged me out onto the stage. I was thrown over a rail, and my hands were tied to a peg in front. They pulled my legs wide apart, and used two leather thongs to tie my ankles to rings in the floor. I hated this position, and yet I was in it! God! My prick was jutting, and everyone was staring at my big boner, which had my wife so mad I would have done anything to get rid of it. I was staring at the crowd, which seemed even larger than I had remembered it, and my wife and the two boys were right out in front. My crime of adultery was announced, and there was this huge sigh from the crowd and then suddenly I felt this woman patting my ass.

I spun around and looked into her angry eyes. She was the same one that had strapped the boys hours earlier, and now she was reaching for the same strap, only this time it was for me. I was totally humiliated, and looked away from her. I stared out in the crowd and I recognize a few of our neighbors and my face blushed red. God. My wife must have brought them! The woman started strapping my naked ass then, the big lady working it over my legs and down across my crack. I tried to hold in the feeling, but the burn increased, and then increased some more, and after a few minutes the strap hurt so bad the sound just came out on its own.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" I yelled. "Oh fuck...oh God..oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! STOPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!" "PLEASEEEEE, STOPPPPPPPPPPP!" I had never had any pain like that, and as I felt that strap I bucked my hips and jerked like a bad little boy. Soon the tears came, and I was crying then, just crying out my tears as my wife laughed. She laughed and laughed, along with my boys, and that’s when I realized I deserved it all. I tried to beg them, tried to say anything to make it stop, but the spanking went on and on and on.

I don't know how long they strapped me, but it was way longer than anyone else I had seen punished that day. She just kept slamming that strap into my ass, until my bottom was so bright red that it can't be described. My bottom was flame red, hot and it literally felt like it was cooking. It slowly turned purple, and began to swell. Still, she strapped me, and all I could do was cry and scream and babble, my desperation so great it can't be described. God it hurt! Finally, it stopped, and I didn't wait to be told what I needed to do.

I started babbling out my apology right away, begging forgiveness, and promising to be good from now on. I did my best to apologize, and make it sound as sincere as I could.

I was certainly contrite, and my ass burned beyond anything I could have imagined. Finally, I stopped, and the tears ran down my face. I felt like a bad little boy. "I'll be good....I will....I'll be good from now on" I babbled. My wife just smiled, and then she said: "I know you will be good honey...in fact, I'm certain of it."

Suddenly, I felt this terrible pain in my nuts, and I whipped my head around and there was this other woman behind me. She was a cutter! In her hand she was holding the two ends of a leather cord, and it was immediately obvious she had noosed my balls. I screamed, and then with a questioning look on my face, I saw her lift out the small knife that is characteristic of the trade.

I started begging then, and she smiled, and then she said: "Cheating on your wife isn't a smart thing to do. Thank God your son was around to catch you." Suddenly, she pushed the tip of her blade up, right at the top of my sac, and then she squeezed my entire scrotum in her left hand. God it hurt! I grunted and begged. I've got big balls, and I was proud of them. No way could she take them! No way! Oh GOD I BEGGED HER! I tried to pull my legs together, to make her understand, but she just smiled and then, slowly, she pushed her blade and I felt the tip penetrate into my manhood.

I know I screamed, and then I felt the pulsations and suddenly my pent up semen was shooting out of my dick, squirting onto the stage and out of my balls. My wife laughed, and as I listened to her stupid cackle the woman twisted her knife and pulled it down through the side of my sac. I know I screamed, feeling what no free man should ever feel, and then suddenly my right ball popped into the air and was in her hand, only attached to me with its cord. It was a huge nut, and the crowd gasped when they saw how big it was. I could feel everything, EVERYTHING, and I was babbling and begging and screaming for mercy.

The cutter grabbed my big nut, and pulled it, hard, and as she did the cord stretched and then, suddenly it just popped and came free. The ball-less cord snapped back, inside my own scrotum, and I felt my dick spasm again and a second, smaller load squirted out of my dick. It was the last wad I ever shot. She changed hands, and took my split sac in her right, holding the knife with the left. I was shaking my head, back and forth. I was still looking at her, and she said: "Turn around you bastard, and look at your wife. She's the one that's having you nutted."

We stared at each other then, eye to eye. There was anger there, and I knew I was as good as castrated. I would never be able to leave her, and instead would serve her as a slave, doing her chores and her tasks and not daring to think on my own. A nutted husband is nothing, and in the city he has no rights and no power. She would own me, totally, the moment my last nut was taken. If I dared to disobey her she could have me flogged, or worse, and so I would do as I was told and live to do her bidding. God.

She smiled as the knife penetrated my sac for the second time. I grunted, feeling it, feeling that blade as it made the slit. With a squeeze she popped out my last ball, the last thing in the world that made me a man. It was as big as the other nut, and was almost the size of a plum. My big testicle was in her hand, exposed and vulnerable and totally at her mercy. My cock had already wilted, my last boner wasted and my spunk in the dirt. Everything was on the line. Then, from behind me, the woman cutter said to my wife: "This is the moment....he's got huge balls. You sure you want him nutted?"

I begged her, and I apologized again. I begged and begged, and stared at her as she stared at me. I begged her to give me another chance, to let me keep my ball and stay at least a half a man. It was all up to her, and what my life would be was totally in her control. She knew it too, and stared at me, and time seemed to stand still. Then she said, slowly, "Yes....nut the bastard. I don't want him fucking ever again, and my son can handle being the head of the house. In fact, I'm sure my boy would enjoy getting back at him from time to time, and I'll make sure my son keeps him in line with the strap whenever it is necessary."

The truth of what she had said filled me with a fear I cannot describe. Then, I looked away from her, the decision made, and then I felt the pain as she squeezed on my ball. My boy was grinning, the idea of being the man and strapping his father exciting, if it was nothing else. I knew he would do it too, and often, and in the years to come he would strap my eunuch ass whenever he felt like it. It would be difficult to serve the boy, in some ways more so than the woman I had married and cheated on. I felt the ball in cutter's hand, behind me, squeezing it between her fingers as I screamed and screamed.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Suddenly, it was gone. The pain was like a searing hot poker, shooting through my entire groin as she took my last nut and emptied my sac. My kid was laughing, as was his friend, both happy to see the cheat get what he deserved. My dick had already shrunk to nothing, and my seed was spurted out in ropes of cream and puddle, spent and wasted between my legs on the floor. My boy was grinning, and his little teenage dick was visible in his pants, harder by far than I ever would be again. I was a eunuch, and I was nothing.

My empty sac was all that was left where my balls had been, and the feeling hit me so hard I all but collapsed over the rail. The crowd burst into a thunderous applause, and my wife stood up and left. The two boys waited for me, to escort me home. I could barely move, and when they untied me they had to lift me off the rail. I reached down and felt it, felt my empty sac, the big stones stolen and missing and gone forevermore. Everyone was laughing at my expression. I stared down, at my prick, which was hanging like a noodle, spent and useless. I knew it would never be hard again. My son pushed me, and I staggered, and he slapped me on the ass then and said "MOVE IT."

I turned to answer him, perhaps even to tell him off, but I stopped myself. I had no balls, and he knew it, and so did everyone else. A man without balls has no rights, and no power. He is below any other man or woman or boy, and that's the law. I was nothing. My boy owned me. He stared at me, waiting to see if I would dare to cross him. Then he said: "Move it now and behave yourself or I'll have them strap you all over again. I mean it too! I can have you strapped whenever I want and I'll do it everyday if you make it necessary." He was right, and he knew it. He stared at me, confident in his new role, and so I moved forward then, this time under his control and doing what I was told.

[Authors note: © Copyright August, 2003. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.]