Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

(FBI Criminal Investigative Division, FBI Headquarters, J. Edgar Hoover Building, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC, USA, Christmas Eve)

"The M.O. is the same in Tennessee as in the other States," the senior agent solemnly advised his colleague, as he glanced out of his window across Washington DC and whilst referring to the term ‘modus operandi’. Despite the fact that clouds hid the full moon, the night scene outside was sparkling, with the seasonal covering of fresh snow colourfully reflecting the many lights in the federal capital.

"You mean," the more junior colleague, who was not directly involved in the appalling case, enquired in reply, "the crime involved the usual grisly but nevertheless ingenious net and a pretty boy singer?"

"I’m afraid so," the senior agent answered, whilst turning to face his colleague, "and the perpetrator of the crime has, as usual, kept the little net and its gruesome contents as a perverse memento." "How many young victims of his sadism are there now?" the other man next asked.

"He’s hit the half-dozen," the senior agent responded, "because the latest young victim brings the cruel creep’s tally to six, spread over the same number of States. If you remember, he started in Woodland, California, and then the bastard went on to repeat his evil in consecutive weeks in Yuma, Arizona, Las Cruces, New Mexico, Lubbock, Texas, Imboden, Arkansas and Athens, Tennessee."

"I was previously aware of all those places except for Imboden in Arkansas," the colleague commented. "I’m not surprised that you’d never heard of that town," his superior remarked, "because it has a population of less than 700."

"As each of the States involved shares a boundary with the previous one," the senior agent went on to reflect, "it seems as if the bastard is travelling slowly from the West to East Coast, leaving a bloody mess every week in each in his wake. We can also presume that he’ll strike next in Missouri, Kentucky, North or South Carolina, Georgia or Alabama, all of which border Tennessee."

"I wish I knew which of these the bastard was targeting," the senior agent ruefully next commented, "so that we could concentrate our efforts to catch him there. Why can’t Tennessee be more reasonable like my home State of Maine, which only borders one other!"

(Mobile, Alabama, USA, a few hours later, very early Christmas Day morning)

The night winter weather in Mobile, Alabama, on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico contrasted sharply with that being experienced in distant Washington DC. The evening was warm and relatively free of cloud, which allowed the moon to bathe the State’s only seaport in its rays.

14 year-old Simon, who was known as ‘Si’ to his friends and was a very pretty white boy with fair hair and blue eyes, had just finished singing in the choir in his local church. He was currently walking home from the Christmas Midnight Mass with his similarly aged best friend, Charles or ‘Chas’, who happened to be black.

The pair had left their chatting parents behind in the church, as they were both way beyond their normal bedtimes and were very tired after a long day. They also knew that they would be up early on the next morning to unwrap Christmas presents with their annual customary eagerness.

The pair’s parents had let their sons proceed home alone because Si and Chas did not have far to go in the relatively prosperous neighbourhood, which was generally very safe and trouble-free, and they would be accompanying each other most of the way. The boys chatted amicably as they walked, with the main topic of conversation being a forthcoming important game of American basketball in which both were due to participate once they had returned to school after the Christmas holidays.

The boys eventually separated at the entrance to Simon’s road, which was round a corner from that of his best friend. The pair parted with mutual promises to meet early next morning to exchange Christmas presents and compare the gifts already received from others.

As Simon advanced to his large house along his silent road, which was deserted apart from a man with blonde hair and a moustache who was opening the back door of a van, he began to sing quietly to himself. The boy did so using his superb soprano choral voice, which had not yet broken and was as angelic as his looks.

Simon sang a ballad from the Christmas cantata that he and the rest of the church choir had just presented for the fulsome congregation attending Midnight Mass.

The words of ‘Silent Night’ angelically flowed from Simon’s sweet rosy lips. However, for the singer the opening words of the ballad were not to be prophetic.The night for Simon was to prove far from silent, holy, calm or bright.

(FBI Criminal Investigative Division, FBI Headquarters, J. Edgar Hoover Building, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC, USA, same time)

The senior agent was still in his office despite the facts that the time was past midnight, Christmas Day had arrived and he had a wife and children to go home to. However, thinking of his young son, who was in a church choir, encouraged the man to want again to go over the pattern of devastation someone had recently left in his wake, from California to Tennessee, and promised to add to soon.

Besides occurring in recurrently neighbouring States, the senior agent was attempting to calculate whether there was some other pattern in the crimes that he and his colleagues had not yet recognised, apart from the usual modus operandi. However, his tired thought processes prevented success and he eventually did go home to his wife and children.

(Mobile, Alabama, USA, a few hours later, just after dawn, Christmas Day morning)

Simon woke up not long after dawn and quickly appreciated that the scene amidst which he now found himself was not a nightmare. The instant pain caused by tugging at the very tight rope that fastened his spreadeagled body to the large wooden table immediately proved to the boy that his disturbing predicament was truly real.

Simon looked down his spreadeagled form and, as well as noticing the ropes that tied his splayed ankles to the bottom corners of the table on which he was compulsorily resting, he also perceived that he was now worryingly wearing only his skimpy black underpants. Unlike most of his school-friends, the boy felt more comfortable in narrow-sided tight briefs than in baggier boxer shorts. However, he now regretted his choice because the sparse taught cotton permitted the bulging outline of his delightfully proportioned genitalia to be obvious. His only consolation was that the garment, which he had put on after showering and redressing in readiness to attend church, appeared still to be clean.

Simon next looked upwards at his splayed bound hands, which were also tied to table corners. The boy’s glance, plus further and more desperate tugging against the restraints, rapidly confirmed to him that he was disturbingly immovably fixed to the table, which was a worrying situation he could do little about verbally because a ball-gag prevented him from crying out for help.

Simon then concentrated on his gloomy dilapidated surrounds, which the rising sun was beginning to illuminate through rather dirty panes of glass in the sloping roof, some of which were broken and which appeared to be the large ramshackle structure’s only windows. The place seemed to the boy to be a long-abandoned industrial unit or warehouse, stripped bare of all equipment except for the florescent light-tube fittings, which, if they still worked, were currently turned off, and the sturdy wooden table on top of which he had been resolutely tied. The idea that lengthy disuse had befallen the square-shaped facility, which was roughly 30 yards wide, was supported by the copious dust and cobwebs everywhere.

Simon had already recognised that the building was close to if not actually in Mobile’s port area. The boy could hear ships’ horns occasionally hooting from nearby.

There was no sign of the person who had clearly somehow abducted Simon and brought him here, or of the clothes removed from the boy, who now began to try to recall what had happened to land him in this dreadful predicament. He remembered walking alone up the road towards his house, whilst quietly singing ‘Silent Night’, and the man who was opening the rear doors of a van complimenting him on his voice before requesting help to lift something out from the dark insides of his vehicle.

Simon had recognised the adult because the man had been in the congregation at not only the recent Midnight Mass but also the previous Sunday’s morning service. The boy had not noticed him previously or spoken to him and did not know his name or background. However, the young teenager was happy to help and trust anyone who attended his church.

Before proffering his assistance, Simon had no time to question why the man, whom he did not recognise as a resident of or visitor to any of the houses in his road, was unloading a van at this time, very early on Christmas Morning. The boy also did not wonder how the adult had reached the street before he himself had done, although, if he had speculated, he would probably have concluded that he had driven his vehicle rather than walked there.

As Simon subsequently peered into the darkness that pervaded the rear of the van to try to espy what he was supposed to help unload, which actually did not exist, he momentarily fatefully lost sight of the man. The boy now suddenly remembered, whilst tied to the tabletop, the ethereal anaesthetic odour that then subsequently invaded his nostrils and mouth, as a damp cloth was forcibly held against his face until darkness overtook his eyes and mind.

Although he was a church chorister, Simon was not naïve or unaware of some of the appalling crimes that occurred in the world, including the kidnapping for sexual purposes and possible subsequent murder of boys like him. Without being conceited, he knew that his appearance was attractive to others, including some other members of his own gender.

The normally modest but astute Simon had been able to realise this fact simply from the look in the eyes of certain people. The boy’s reaction had always been a strange combination of embarrassment and pride, possibly also mixed with concern if he was being obviously desired by a male or unattractive female.

The fact that he had been deprived of all but one skimpy item of clothing disturbingly suggested to Simon that his abduction probably had a sexual motive. The boy had ruled out a prank, as he did not believe that anyone, especially a man whom he did not know as opposed to fellow young teenager whom he did, would spring such a joke on Christmas Morning. He also dismissed being kidnapped for ransom, as his parents were comfortably off but not particularly rich and anyway, if that had been the reason, why had he been left dressed only in his briefs?

The thought of imminent sexual molestation and possible subsequent murder caused Simon to begin to panic. The boy began to tug again at the ropes that bound him to the table, this time with all his might, as well as to attempt to shout for help despite the ball-gag in his mouth. However, his desperate actions only resulted in painful chafing of the skin on his wrists and ankles and muted cries that could hardly be heard half way to the surrounding walls, let alone outside, and eventually exhaustion, excruciation and exasperation caused him to terminate his fruitless efforts.

Simon instead calmed somewhat and began to rest quietly on the table with as much stoical bravery as he could muster in the frightful circumstances. The religious boy also prayed to God for salvation, as he awaited his fate.

Simon then incongruously heard the sound of the first choral track of a recorded Christmas cantata, sung by boy choristers, start to resound around the derelict warehouse.

(Woodland, California, USA, 6 weeks previously)

Woodland, California, was known as the ‘City of Trees’. However, the city’s eponymous natural assets were currently far from Brad’s mind.

Brad was the same age as Simon and as angelically pretty. He had also been abducted in a similar manner to the way in which the boy in Alabama was to be six weeks later to find himself tied almost naked to a table in the middle of a derelict building.

Brad was not a church chorister but his as yet still unbroken voice had earned him a place in his school choir, which had recently taken part in a State contest. The boy recognised his abductor as having been amongst the audience in the large theatre in which the event had been held.

After the man had removed the ball-gag from Brad’s mouth to the strange accompaniment of Christmas cantata music, the petrified boy, immovably spreadeagled on the table in just his underpants, had urgently asked "Why have you kidnapped me? What are you going to do to me?" He then begged "Please don’t hurt me!"

"I’m afraid that I can’t oblige you," replied the man, who was in his mid-forties, now bare-chested and revealing his hairy upper torso, whilst dressed only in tight black leather trousers and boots of the same material. Referring to Brad’s last plea, the sinister adult added "You see, boy, I’m going to hurt you a lot, as well as change you forever!"

"You’re….not….going to kill me, are you?" the terrified Brad next stuttered nervously. "Oh, don’t worry, boy," the man responded, "as you’ll still be alive after I’ve finished with you, although a certain part of your anatomy won’t be!"

Brad was naturally not particularly comforted by this disclosure and started to scream for help as loud as his normally sweet soprano voice could do so. However, the man just smirked and commented "You can shriek as much as you want boy. This building is too secluded for anyone to hear." However, the young teenager disregarded this remark and continued his desperate vociferous cries, which in turn continued to be ignored by the adult.

The man instead produced a large sharp knife from a sheath attached to the belt of his leather trousers and began to saw through one side of Brad’s underpants. The cloth concerned was no match for the blade and was soon severed.

The other side of Brad’s underpants then attracted the attention of the man’s knife and was similarly soon cut. This development allowed the adult to unveil the boy’s genitalia by pulling the front upper hem of the garment downwards, which he did slowly with great deliberation in order to gain the maximum personal thrill from the uncovering.

The man was rewarded with the sight of a completely smooth and hairless set of nicely proportioned genitals gradually being revealed to his lecherously intrigued eyes. The boy’s flaccid uncut cock was quite long and slender, whilst his scrotum was pleasantly fulsome and rotund.

A little tug of Brad’s mutilated underpants subsequently withdrew the back of the attire from underneath his buttocks, enabling the man to throw the garment onto the floor nearby and leaving the vulnerably spreadeagled boy completely naked. The adult then produced a bottle from underneath the table and began to smear some of the colourless oily contents onto the uncovered young sexual organs.

The man’s actions and the obvious futility of his shouts had by now encouraged Brad to stop his screaming. The boy instead more quietly repeated a question he had asked earlier.

"What are you going to do to me?" Brad enquired. "I’ve already told you," the man unhelpfully answered, as his slimy palm grasped the boy’s rapidly hardening cock and began to move up and down the penile shaft in order to ensure that the oily liquid comprehensively covered the pleasant organ.

Brad was ashamed of his cock’s reaction to the attentions of the man’s hand and therefore requested "Please don’t do that any more!" "Oh, but I must, boy," the man retorted, "as your genitals must be anointed in readiness for their sacrifice!"

"S….S….Sacrifice, what do you mean by ‘sacrifice’?" Brad next nervously asked, although his deeply distressed mind was beginning to realise what the man had previously meant when he had declared that the boy would "still be alive after I’ve finished with you, although a certain part of your anatomy won’t be!"

Brad was unable to confirm his worst fears because the man remained silent in response to his last question. The adult instead preferred to answer the boy’s enquiry by releasing the now thoroughly anointed young genitalia and producing a minuscule white plastic net from under the table, with which he proceeded to cover the oiled and still aroused young sexual organs.

Brad was amazed by the man’s action. The minuscule net with which the adult was covering his genitals resembled the type that was used to place soap powder tablets in washing machines, with a tiny black plastic ball through which was drawn the co-joined cord ends that could contract the open perimeter.

"W….W….What’s that for?" Brad asked in relation to the apparently perfectly sized net that now encased his genitals, whilst the holes still permitted an excellent view of the hard cock and smooth scrotum within. However, the boy’s rosy lips then suddenly uttered a pained groan, as the man drew the co-joined cord ends further through the tiny plastic ball to lessen again the size of the open perimeter, which was looped around the base of his young victim’s sexual organs.

Brad now immediately realised in horror that the perimeter circumference of the open end of the net was not made entirely of cord. A substantial proportion consisted of extremely sharp razor wire.

The man allowed this wire to bite painfully deep into the round base of Brad’s genitals before ceasing his pulling of the cord ends. His action had not only caused the boy much anguish but also imposed a tight constriction on his sexual organs, which made his scrotum appear even more fulsomely rotund than normal.

"If I continued to pull the cord ends," the man now broke his silence to advise the appalled Brad, "the razor wire would eventually, excruciatingly and rather neatly cut off your genitals at their base. The tidiness of the operation would also be assisted by the fact that the severed organs would then be handily confined in the net, making their subsequent transportation easier."

"Y….Y….You’re not going to do that to me?" was Brad’s next nervous question. In response, the man looked sympathetically into the boy’s sensuous blue eyes.

The man then answered, to the continued incongruous accompaniment of Christmas cantata music, sung by boy choristers, "Of course I am!"

(Mobile, Alabama, not long after dawn, Christmas Day morning, six weeks later)

Simon again glanced down at his oiled and aroused genitals, which were also now rather painfully covered by a minuscule white plastic net that appeared to match the size of his sexual organs perfectly. His adult abductor had recently departed the scene. The 14 year-old had thereby been left to contemplate alone, to the continued incongruous accompaniment of recorded Christmas cantata music, sung by boy choristers, the fact that, on the man’s return, certain co-joined cord ends would be drawn through a tiny black plastic ball to nullify him.

Despite his grave peril and the acute pain inflicted by the razor wire biting into the base of his genitals, Simon was watching his vertically erect cock visibly throb within the net. The extremely embarrassed and scared boy could not help but be amazed that his penis could be so blatantly unruly in such horrifying circumstances.

Simon’s genitals were clearly thoroughly stimulated by the deadly danger in which they found themselves. The evidence was provided by the boy’s cock, which determinedly declined to become fearfully flaccid, seemingly preferring to remain energetically erect in response to the peril.

Meanwhile, unseen by Simon, his would-be nullifier was in a nearby office of the derelict warehouse. He liked to enhance the sadistic cruelty he was inflicting on his young victims by giving them an hour or so alone to contemplate their imminent fate.

As the man waited, he again admired the severed genitals of six other 14 year-old boy singers, which were in minuscule white nets inside glass jars of preservative fluid. Each container was labelled with a single letter.

The man once more noted with interest that all of the preserved boyish cocks continued to show evidence of their erect nature immediately prior to being lost to the young pretty bodies that they had previously adorned.

(Woodland, California, USA, six weeks previously)

"Why?" Brad asked, once the man had returned after disappearing for an hour and, ignoring the boy’s initial useless pleas for mercy, began further to constrict the razor wire encircling his young victim’s genitals.

"The sacred sacrifice of your genitals," the man answered incorrectly, "will prevent your beautiful soprano voice from breaking and so allow you to continue to sing Christian cantatas sweetly for me!" Whilst he said these words, Brad grimaced and moaned loudly in anguish, as the razor wire bit agonisingly even further into him, producing in the process the first blood to flow from the area of his groin. This reaction prevented the boy from trying to suggest that the reasoning behind his proposed nullification was flawed and to resume his pleas for clemency.

The man therefore simply continued to constrict the razor wire slowly and with great deliberation in order to gain the maximum thrill from his gradual excruciating emasculation of the beautiful boy singer. Brad also found himself still incapable of querying his nullifier’s motivation or begging for mercy because of the now almost unbearable suffering in his groin and the emission from his rosy lips instead of loud agonised shrieks, which accurately reflected his unprecedented horror and torment.

The man was, of course, mad and his insane motives for his crimes actually derived from a weird combination of attitudes. He adored choral music. However, having never personally possessed a good singing voice, which caused him as a child to fail, in what he considered to be very humiliating circumstances, to audition successfully to join a choir, he was intensely jealous of boys who were vocally gifted. Additionally, he once had aspirations to become a musical composer of cantatas but possessed no talent whatsoever to fulfil such a dream.

The madman, whose unusually spelt first name was Wylliam, the ancient precursor of ‘William’, was also a sadistic paedophile with a castration fetish. He had therefore set out to create his own peculiar and perverse Christmas cantata, whilst leaving mischievous clues behind as to his intent and identity.

Bit by slow bit the madman continued remorselessly to constrict the razor wire, which encouraged the localised flow of blood to increase substantially in tandem with his first young victim’s screams. As he proceeded, he could no longer see the thin round sliver of metal that was nullifying Brad because it had disappeared inside the flesh of the boy’s scrotal base, leaving behind a circular lean sanguine cut as evidence of penetration.

The madman estimated that the diameter of the circle of razor wire was no more than a centimetre when Brad’s spermatic cods, probably compressed against each other inside the boy’s seriously endangered scrotum, began to sever. Such was the adult’s enthusiasm for this act of castration that he felt he could no longer dally in completing the nullification of his young victim.

The madman therefore pulled harshly and powerfully at the cord ends in his hands. Consequently, Brad’s freshly severed genitals fell gently from his groin into the now closed net, although the boy was unaware of this accomplishment because he had fainted.

Still holding the cord ends in one hand, the madman next lifted the net up towards his curious eyes for a closer view of the contents, which he noticed were not only bloody but also covered in semen. Brad had ejaculated productively, just prior to being converted into a nullified eunuch.

The madman’s own intact cock had simultaneously spurted cum into his leather trousers.

(Mobile, Arizona, USA, six weeks later)

The returned madman began to constrict the razor wire encircling the base of Simon’s genitals slowly and with great deliberation. The boy found himself incapable of querying his nullifier’s motivation or begging for mercy because of the now almost unbearable suffering in his groin and the emission from his rosy lips instead of loud agonised shrieks, which accurately reflected his unprecedented horror and torment.

(Woodland, California, USA, six weeks previously)

Police had discovered Brad in response to a 911 emergency call, gloatingly made from a public telephone box by the madman using a disguised voice. The boy was thankfully still alive, with the loss of blood from his appalling genital injury having been stemmed by crude cauterisation of the horrific wound by a blowtorch whilst, thankfully, the young victim had still been unconscious.

The police were subsequently eventually provided with a decent description by Brad of the madman who had mutilated him, whilst the young new nullified eunuch slowly recovered in hospital. However, despite producing a fairly accurate facial photofit from this data, which had been circulated publicly and widely, Wylliam was not identified or caught. He instead proceeded to perpetrate similar cruel deeds on five other boy singers on a weekly basis over the later pre-Christmas period, during which the FBI became involved in the case.

The madman’s notoriety increased with each dreadful crime, with gory details of each incident appearing regularly in television news programmes and other media throughout the USA. However, the associated photofits strangely varied significantly, encouraging the FBI to wonder at first whether several men were committing copycat crimes independently of each other.

DNA tests actually eventually proved to the FBI that the perpetrator of the atrocities was the same unknown man. The officers investigating the horrific crimes therefore concluded that the person they were seeking was cleverly using different disguises on each of the occasions that he tracked and then abducted a boy singer.

Meanwhile, despite widespread publicity and warnings, some choristers and their adult guardians still failed to take sufficient precautions to ensure that none of the boys became the next victim. Such ineffective action probably resulted from the mistaken belief that such a disaster could not befall them, as such evil surely always only happened to others.

Simon and his parents had sadly apparently followed such an unfortunate maxim.

(Mobile, Arizona, USA, six weeks later)

Simon was to prove to be the final boy to pay insufficient attention to his personal safety in face of the danger from the madman. Wylliam proposed to complete his own seasonal cantata just in time for Christmas by immediately severing his seventh and last young victim’s genitals.

Alas, the perceptive Simon only now realised, as he lay naked and immovably spreadeagled on the wooden table whilst being deprived of his genitals, that the man’s blonde hair was actually a wig and that his moustache was equally artificial. Such knowledge was sadly of little current use to the boy.

Simon’s attention was instead entirely focused on the facts that razor wire was beginning to disappear from view into his scrotal flesh whilst his body shuddered in orgasm of an unprecedented intensity and his cock erupted with the greatest amount of cum he had ever produced. The madman simultaneously climaxed, spurting his own semen into his leather trousers.

After recovering from his climactic high, the madman now determined to complete Simon’s nullification with speed and readied himself to close the loop of razor wire that had penetrated the boy’s scrotum, the twin orbs of which were now covered with his young victim’s own blood and sperm.

Meanwhile, Christmas cantata music, sung by boy choristers, continued to resound around the derelict warehouse.

(Washington DC, USA, same time)

The senior FBI agent investigating the madman’s crimes had returned to Washington DC from the scene of the latest atrocity in Athens, Tennessee, for two reasons. Firstly, he wanted briefly to consult staff and use resources at Bureau headquarters to aid his enquiries. Secondly, he wanted to spend Christmas Day at least with his family before returning to the south, where the insane mutilator was expected to strike next.

The senior agent was currently relaxing with his wife and children in the family home, located in one of Washington DC’s best suburbs. He was watching his young son and daughter, who had both excitedly risen at dawn to see what Father Christmas had brought them, unwrap their presents to background music provided by the radio, which rather appropriately consisted of a seasonal cantata, sung by boy choristers.

As the senior agent listened to the music, an idea suddenly invaded his mind and he went to collect a piece of paper and a pen. He then wrote down the names of the States and cities or towns in which the madman had committed his atrocious crimes.

The senior agent wrote ‘California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Arkansas and Tennessee’, followed by ‘Woodland, Yuma, Las Cruces, Lubbock, Imboden and Athens’. He then underlined the first letters in the name of each place, which respectively spelt out ‘CANTAT’ and ‘WYLLIA’.

"The bastard’s creating his own perverse Christmas cantata and his name is Wylliam," the senior agent subsequently astutely declared aloud, to the surprise of his wife and children. He then added "And his next atrocity will take place in a town or city whose name begins with the letter ‘M’ in Alabama!"

Unfortunately, the senior agent’s realisation was too late to save Simon’s genitals, although a boy chorister was now known to be missing from his bedroom in Mobile, Alabama.

(Mobile, Alabama, USA, same time)

Simon’s tearful blue eyes noticed the obvious acute hatred and satisfaction displayed on the madman’s own face, as Wylliam readied himself to close the loop of razor wire encircling the boy’s now virtually purple genitals. Despite his immense distress, the young teenager also somehow managed to utter a final plea in respect of his imminent nullification of "Don’t!"

To Simon’s surprise, his entreaty was met, although not because of any merciful compassion on the part of the madman, whose intent was instead terminated by a police sniper’s bullet accurately penetrating his insane brain. Thankfully, Wylliam’s grip on the cord ends contracting the razor wire was subsequently harmlessly released before he fell dead to the ground.

Simon’s genitals had been rescued not by the belated inspiration of the senior FBI agent in distant Washington DC. His masculinity had instead been saved by someone much closer to the boy’s home, namely his best friend, Chas.

When the boys had separated previously, not long after midnight on Christmas Day morning, Chas had remembered that he could not later go to Simon’s home to compare presents as early as he had promised. He had first to visit his grandparents.

Chas had therefore gone after Simon to appraise him of this fact, and was just in time to see his unconscious best friend being bundled into the back of a van, which was then driven away at high speed. Fortunately, the astonished boy had not been so stunned that he did not have the presence of mind to read and remember the vehicle’s registration number.

Chas’ information, which also included an accurate description of the van, subsequently helped the police to find the vehicle quickly, despite the reduction in staff numbers because of Christmas absences. The authorities were additionally helped by luck.

An alert port security watchman had dutifully reported a van suspiciously parked adjacent to a derelict warehouse. He did not fancy checking the vehicle or building closely on his own and the police might not have treated the matter with any urgency if he had also not provided them with details of the registration number.

The police already assumed that Simon’s abductor was probably the infamous nullifier. The young kidnap victim was, after all, a boy chorister and Alabama had been previously mooted as a possible venue for the mutilator’s next imminently expected atrocity.

A large unit of heavily armed police, including snipers, eventually approached the derelict warehouse furtively, as they did not want to alert the madman, which might have endangered the abducted boy. Some quietly clambered onto the roof to try to observe what was going on inside through the skylights.

Seeing that the madman was about to nullify his boy victim, one of the police snipers correctly chose not to issue a verbal challenge instructing the abductor to stop what he was doing and surrender. After all, it would have required only a second or two for the insane criminal to ignore such commands and proceed instead to emasculate Simon.

Wylliam was therefore simply shot dead through a broken pane of glass, with his special Christmas cantata unfinished.

(Mobile, Alabama, USA, a couple of months later)

Simon was alone and naked in his room. As the boy lay on his bed, he looked at the side-table, on top of which he had placed the empty jar, labelled with the letter ‘A’ for ‘Alabama’ and gifted to him at his request by the police who had rescued him. The present represented a rather gruesome memento of his narrow escape from nullification.

Simon then glanced down at the aroused and healed genitals between his splayed legs. The boy had recently smeared his hard cock and fulsome scrotum with baby oil, which he considered a satisfactory substitute for whatever his would-be nullifier had used to supposedly anoint his young smooth sexual organs. He never did find out exactly what the original substance had been.

Simon could see through the holes of the minuscule white net, which also covered his genitals, that his vertically erect oiled cock was throbbing gently. The boy subsequently enjoyed the sight and feeling for a while before eventually firmly holding with one set of fingers the tiny black ball through which were drawn the co-joined ends of the cord that ran round the open perimeter.

This perimeter now tightly encircled the healed base of Simon’s genitals. With his other hand, the boy then began carefully and slowly to pull the co-joined ends and he started to feel the initially mild anguish of the increasing constriction of his sexual organs. However, genuine cord and not razor wire was beginning to bite into his scrotum because he was using the type of net that really was provided for placing soap powder tablets into washing machines.

The police had not given the other variety, intended to emasculate Simon and actually adapted by his would-be nullifier from the soap powder kind, to him as a memento. He had therefore been forced to improvise by borrowing one of the nets from the family laundry-room.

As Simon pulled, the already reddened colour of his genitals darkened because of the increase in entrapped blood and his throbbing erection clearly grew a little more in height and girth, whilst his copious foreskin withdrew slightly to reveal his cockhead. The boy’s scrotum also visibly expanded to become even more rotund.

Simon next released his hands from the net to enjoy the various intensified sensations pervading his groin, which comprised a strange mix of mild pain and swelling ecstasy. The boy also spread his arms above his head so that he was lying on his bed in a spreadeagled posture and stared enthralled at his throbbing cock for a while, which never lost its enthusiastically vehement vibrating arousal.

Simon eventually glanced again at the nearby jar, which, if events had not gone favourably, would now be accommodating his severed genitals, and once more began to constrict the cord encircling his still intact sexual organs. This action finally stimulated the usual result.

Simon’s cockhead exploded like a fountain with white ejaculate, as the boy’s body visibly vibrated amidst intense orgasm. The elements of semen that escaped through the holes in the net, which covered but did not hide his genitals, sprayed into the air before falling back onto his groin, upper legs and belly.

Simon had never previously experienced such an intensity of ecstatic pleasure before beginning to play this now regular sex game, apart from when real razor wire had been biting into his flesh. The climactic pleasure provided by the boy’s orgasm, experienced just before the madman intent on nullifying him was shot dead by a police sniper, was never to be surpassed.

Simon now considered that particular climax, and the sex games with the net that that orgasm had subsequently encouraged him to play on a frequent basis, which easily defeated ordinary masturbation in terms of ecstatic reward, to be his best-ever Christmas present.

Simon contemplated this truism, as he continued to lie naked on his bed with the net, now dripping with semen, still encasing his sated genitals and whilst he continued to listen to the melodies, sung by boy choristers, of a Christmas cantata.

THE END

of

‘CHRISTMAS CANTATA’

by Pueros