Chris

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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	Over the summer I saw him a number of times, and I guess 
that's when I started to really be interested in him.  He would cut 
through the driveway next to ours to get to the area behind my house 
where a small gravel circle, technically a city road, was good for 
parking cars.  Our neighbors' driveway ran right by my living room 
window, so I would be painting or playing video games when I'd see 
him walk by, shirtless.  He was slender, with nicely rounded but not 
very large pecs, and his skin was smooth.  He wore his hair long and 
it was wavy and blonde, and he had a short clipped beard and 
moustache.  He always looked intent on something, and stared straight 
ahead when he walked.

	During the next few months I saw him go into a building near 
the house I lived in, so I figured he lived near me, and just cut 
through that driveway to his car when he was on foot.  He was 
incredibly good looking, and every time I saw him, my eyes were drawn 
to him.  I figured he was straight, though, like most of the good 
ones, and so just looked on without ever approaching him.

	Then one day I was reading a book in the coffeehouse across 
the street.  He walked up to the counter from the back and I found 
myself just staring at him again, unable to pull my eyes away.  
Somehow he knew I was looking, because when he turned and looked 
around for a table he came straight to mine.  "You mind if I join 
you?" he asked.

	"No, not at all.  Go ahead."  I put my book down.

	He sat down and looked me in the eye.  "I've seen you around 
here a lot."  It was just a statement, not really expecting anything, 
but he stopped talking and was just looking at me again.

	"Uh, yeah, I live across the street."

	"Been there long?"

	"No, just a few months.  I knew one of the guys that lived 
there before us."

	He sipped his drink, then tilted his head back and took a big 
gulp.  I sipped on mine.  "So what's your name?" I asked him.

	"Chris."  That seemed to fit him somehow.  "What's yours?"

	"Pete."

	"You want to go somewhere when you're done drinking that?"

	"Sure."  I downed my beverage in one gulp and set it back 
down heavily.  "Let's go."

	He smiled in a vaguely menacing way and did the same to his.  
We paid and took off.



	He lived just a few houses down from me, in the basement of 
an apartment building.  His place looked pretty typical for a college 
student, except for the size - he had the whole building's basement, 
a good four room plus bathroom and kitchen.  Chris threw off his coat 
and I did the same.  He just walked into a hallway, so I followed, 
wondering what would happen next.  Probably he'd put something on the 
TV, we'd talk a little bit and then make out or something, right?

	Heh.  He opened the door and I followed him in.  This room 
was totally dark and lit only by candles, very Gothy.  I wondered 
about it burning down.  The walls had glass cases on them but I 
couldn't tell what was in them in this low light.  In the center of 
the room was a stone table with straps on it.  Chris looked to be 
pretty kinky.

	"Take your clothes off," he told me.  I had never done this 
sort of thing before but was adventurous.  I got naked pretty fast, 
my boner bulging.  He did so as well, tossing our clothes into a 
corner.  We took a good look at each other.  I was looking more with 
desire, but he seemed more detached than I, more like he was 
appraising.  I felt like a slab of meat.  "You have good arms," he 
said, "and a strong back."

	"Um.  Thanks," I replied, feeling stupid as soon as I did 
so.  He was erect as well, I noticed, and decidedly average.  He did 
keep himself shaved, though.  I thought that was pretty cool; I 
always liked the feel of it myself but never really did it.  I 
started to sweat a little, and noticed for the first time how warm it 
was down here.

	Chris stood at one of the glass cases.  "This is my trophy 
case," he told me, and he flicked on a small light interior to the 
case.  What I saw was pretty shocking...perfectly lifelike cocks 
lying on little pillows, with what looked like testicles sealed in 
some sort of plastic.  The cocks were really shiny, too, some kind of 
dildo.  Behind each set was a pencil drawing of a nude man, many done 
on what I recognized to be the table behind me.  Some were on couches 
or the floor, a few were standing.  To my surprise, I saw a picture 
of my friend who had recommended my house to me in one!  Never knew 
he was gay...

	"So what are these, then?  Dildos?" I asked.

	"Trophies of men I've been with.  I like to draw them."  I 
thought that was pretty cool, personally.  A little weird, and the 
room he kept them in was a little melodramatic, but this guy didn't 
seem like too much of a freak.  "Lay down on the table," he ordered 
me.

	I did so, trembling a little.  He adjusted my position so I 
was supine, and strapped me in.  From another dark corner he pulled 
out an easel with a large pad of newsprint on it and some charcoal, 
and started sketching.

	I was totally turned on by this, but even my erection 
couldn't last forever.  His did, though, but he didn't talk much, and 
my questions were usually answered monosyllabicly.  When my cock went 
limp again, he stopped for a moment and came over to me.  He climbed 
up and straddled me, and I got hard again immediately.  His cock was 
an inch from my mouth.  "Suck it," he ordered.  I opened my mouth and 
he leaned forward, inserting it in my mouth.  I lay there, allowing 
him to facefuck me for a few minutes.  He then pulled out.  "That's 
enough for now.  Keep your cock up."  Chris went back to drawing.  

	After that, every time I started to go limp I thought good 
thoughts, my cock in his mouth or ass or his in mine.  That seemed to 
keep me up okay until he finished.  He just put the charcoal down and 
covered it with some plastic film, then approached me again.  This 
time he lay over my legs and took my cock into his mouth hungrily.  I 
flexed against the straps, but they held me firm.  He sucked me off 
expertly, and right when I was about to cum, he stopped.  Again he 
facefucked me until he came, all over my chest.  He rubbed it into my 
nipples, and lowered himself over my cock.  I humped from below and 
he did from above, playing with my nipples.  When I came, he 
unstrapped me.

	"The shower is in the other room."  He motioned toward a 
door, and started cleaning up.  I took the hint, still glowing, and 
went in.  I washed off quickly and dried off using the towel on the 
rack.  When I emerged he was still nude.  "Your clothes are in the 
corner."  I put them on as well.  He led me to the door.  "Meet me in 
the coffeehouse tomorrow at five."

	And with that, he shut the door behind me.


	I arrived at the coffeehouse a little early the next day, and 
waited at the same table until 5.  At exactly five o'clock, Chris 
walked in, and just looked at me with his penetrating gaze.  I stood, 
my eyes locked on his, and followed him back out and to his 
apartment.  Within five minutes I was naked again, this time lying on 
his bed looking at a Tool poster.  He wanted to draw my back today, 
so didn't seem interested in my staying erect.  I had no problem 
doing so, however, just knowing that his eyes, that gaze, was 
searching out every crevasse of my body was enough to keep me both 
horny and erect.

	He took a good half hour, by which time I was half soft and 
my cock ached.  I didn't even know he was done until I felt his hands 
on my shoulders.  He rolled me over on top of him, and then kept 
rolling until he was on me.  He pulled my waist up and then was 
inside, thrusting deep into me.  My knuckles were white, gripping the 
bedsheets as his powerful thrusts forced me forward.

	He then pulled out and roughly flipped me over, then attacked 
my cock.  He would go down deep on me, the warmth of his mouth and 
the cool dryness of the room alternately enveloping my cock.  He 
would use his teeth, lightly at first, and make me tense up.  Then he 
would scrape a little harder, but it felt good as the back of his 
teeth would meet my frenum.  He would scrape harder with them, and I 
wondered if he'd bite it off.

	With that thought, I came, in big hot spurts.  He pulled off 
and allowed it to run onto his chest.  Chris lay down on top of me 
and started kissing me roughly, thrusting his tounge into my mouth 
and rubbing my chest with his hands.  I gripped his ass and played 
with it, growing erect again.  He flipped me over and started to fuck 
me again, hard, but not really painful.  He came quickly inside me, 
filling up my ass with hot goo.

	

	That night I lay in bed thinking.  I didn't really want him 
to bite my cock off but it was still a powerful image - it made me 
cum, anyway.  I wondered again about the dildo collection...would he 
make one of mine?  That would be kinda neat - a dildo of me.  I had 
seen a John Holmes one before.  I wondered if he would make one for 
me too.



	The next time I saw him he wanted to draw me just standing in 
his living room, but not like I was.  He brought out razors and 
shaving cream, and in the bathroom he lathered up my chest and 
started shaving me slowly.  He was very methodical, ensuring that 
with each stroke he had gotten all of what little hair grew there.  
From my chest he moved to my abs, and arms, and ass, and legs, and 
finally cock.  I was stone hard at this point, and as he held onto my 
balls and ran the razor down the length of my penis I nearly came.  
An annoyed look from him and managed to control myself.  When he was 
done he had me wash up and meet him in the living room.

	All I could see of Chris was from his waist down...just a 
pair of legs and a cock.  He finished this one faster than the 
previous two, and stood back when he was finished.  "This one lookes 
like a keeper."

	"Can I see it?"

	"Not yet.  Later."  I was a little disappointed.  He walked 
off again, and I followed him into the candlelit room.  On the table 
was another stone block.  Chris had me lay across it, my ass in the 
air, my legs spread, my belly on the top of the block.  My balls 
swung between my legs, exposed, but loose from the heat.  Chris was 
doing things behind me; I had no idea what.  My balls felt especially 
vulnerable since they had just been shaven, and every cool draft was 
amplified.

	I felt a prick in my scrotum.  "What are you doing?" I asked 
him.  He didn't answer, but as I lost feeling in my testicles I 
knew.  I could feel them there, but had no sensation in them.  I 
could feel him tugging on them, but didn't know what he was doing 
until I turned my head to the side and saw our reflection in the 
glass of the display cases.  I saw Chris holding a scalpel, and 
pulled in a sharp breath as he stuck it into my sac, very close to my 
groin in the middle..

	I realized with some horror what was happening.  He pulled 
the scalpel down, tugging at my whole package.  I could feel a dull 
ache from my groin, and more tugging.  After a minute or two the 
greyish lump that was one of my testicles lay on the table, and a few 
minutes later the other one joined it.

	I let out a tear quietly.  I didn't want this, but at the 
same time, I did want it.  I wanted all of it gone, mounted in Chris' 
cabinet next to my picture.  How would I deal with this, I wondered.  
My cock was still rock hard.  He stitched up what was left of the 
scrotum and washed me clean, then disinfected and bandaged the wound.

	That was it? was all I could think.  He's left me with a cock 
still.  Chris was now ignoring me and injecting something into my 
testicles.  He dipped them in some sort of clear goo, then pulled 
them out and put them on a sheet of wax paper.  My scrotum was tossed 
into a red biohazard bag, and only then did Chris let me off the 
table.

	He pulled me close and wrapped his hand around my cock, now 
bereft of its companions.  Slowly he played with my head under his 
thumb, using his nails on the head, until, after nearly an hourlong 
erection, I came.  There was blood in it, and little semen.

	"You know what I've done to you," he stated.  Again, not a 
question.  Just a statement.

	"Yes."

	"When you heal, I may take the rest as well."

	"Yes," I answered him.  Both to show understanding, and 
desire.

	"Make plans to live here."

	"What?"  This was new.

	"I want a full time lover.  Once I have taken your cock, I 
will want you here."

	This would cause problems, I knew, but I sort of had to do 
it.  Who else would have me now?  I had no balls, and soon wouldn't 
have a cock either.  And, while one part of me was saying how fucked 
this all was, the rest of me was saying how much it wanted it this 
way.  What Chris psycho?  I figured that in a way he must be; I mean, 
how many people would have cut my balls off?  What if he tried to 
kill me?

	I dismissed that thought quickly, Jason, the guy I knew whose 
picture - and presumably genitals - were in that cabinet, was 
perfectly alive.  Too bad he had moved; I should look up his number, 
I thought.  See what's up with all of this.

	Even if this was sort of bogus, above all was the desire to 
surrender to Chris, to let him do with me what he would.  He had 
asked me to be his, to live with him, to allow him to take my cock 
like he'd taken my testicles.  I wanted him to.  I needed him to.  I 
did have one question.

	"What about the others?" I asked him.

	"What, these?" he asked, motioning to his trophies.

	"If I give up my life to you, then what of them?  Did they do 
the same thing?"

	"No.  I never asked them to.  You are the only one I've ever 
asked."



	Finding a new roommate turned out to be easier than I 
expected.  One of my other roommates knew a guy that needed a place, 
so within a week I was out and that guy was in.  I just stopped going 
to classes; there wasn't much point in them anymore.  I told my 
friends I was going to be with myself for a bit, relax some.  I'd be 
in town but not around much.  I sold off all of my stuff except for a 
change of clothes.

	While cleaning I found my old address book with Jason's phone 
number in it.  I managed to track him down and got him to meet me for 
lunch.  We got a table way in the back where we could talk without 
worrying about being overheard.

	He looked pretty good.  He'd lost some weight and his hair 
was longer.  I noticed that his previousy hairy chest was now smooth, 
and as I followed him to the table I could see his legs and arms were 
as well.  I glanced at his groin but couldn't really tell anything 
from it.

	"So you've been with Chris, huh?" he asked.  I nodded.  "How 
far?"

	"He's cut my balls off, but I still have my cock."

	He inhaled.  "Sounds like him.  He did me all at once.  Got 
me on his table, and ten minutes later it was all lying on it."  I 
took a drink of water.  "So what did you want to talk about?"

	I let out a little sigh.  "Well, he wants me to live with 
him, and he wants to finish the job.  I sort of want him to, but I'm 
nervous about it.  I mean, I could take hormones now or something and 
everything would work okay, but if he cuts off my penis too..."  I 
took another drink.  "I guess my question is, do you regret it?"

	"Hah!  Hell, no."  That took me by surprise.  "You knew I was 
pretty adventurous.  When Chris gelded me that was easily the best 
sex I'd ever had, and a fitting end to my sex life.  I love it."

	The waiter came up and got our drink orders.  "Don't you get 
lonely or anything?" I asked.

	"Nope.  When I was looking at his collection I saw some guys 
that I knew, too, and called them up.  We hang out some, and I'm 
living with one on a permanent basis."

	"Do you guys...do anything?  Sexually?"

	"Not exactly.  We cuddle a lot.  Sometimes we use dildos or 
something, but his sex drive is almost nothing and mine is zero.  I 
like it this way.  We can be close but don't actually fuck."

	"You don't get embarassed about it or anything?"

	"Hell no.  Actually we all take some pleasure in showing it 
off sometimes."  The waiter came back with the drinks and we 
ordered.  "When I work out I tend to wear boxer-briefs that I've 
altered to shrink the crotch, so they're perfectly formfitting.  You 
should see some of the looks in the locker room I get."

	"Well, I dunno that I'd do that.  Do you hang out with 
other...you know..."

	"Yeah; I told you I knew a few.  There are some even that 
weren't done by Chris, actually.  We do stuff together sometimes.  
I'll introduce you if you want to."

	"Maybe.  So why do you think he does it?" I asked.

	"I'm not really sure.  I guess he's just such a dominating 
person; I mean, when I was with him I felt like I didn't really 
deserve what I had."  I nodded in agreement.  "Maybe he doesn't think 
we deserve it either.  A power trip, I guess."

	We had a pretty fun lunch otherwise, and Jason's reaction to 
his emasculation cemented my feelings in wanting to be myself.  After 
we ate and I dropped him off he asked if I wanted to come in and 
look.  "Sure," I said.

	In his room he dropped his pants.  I got on my knees and 
looked closely.  All the hair was gone, as it was on mine, and there 
wasn't even a mound or anything.  There was a hairline scar in the 
shape of a V, barely noticable, and I could see a hole below it where 
he pissed.  It aimed down.  "Can you piss standing up?" I asked.

	"Yeah, but I can't aim.  Usually I just sit."

	"Can I touch?"

	"Sure."  I reached out a hand and put it against his smooth 
groin.  His body rose and fell a little as he breathed, but the skin 
was smooth and unbroken.

	When I was done, we said goodbye and I told him I'd try to 
keep in touch.



	My cock was healing pretty fast.  I could piss okay within a 
day or so.  It hurt, but after about three days even that felt okay.  
It swelled up really big and that hurt the worst, but once the 
swelling went down it just bruised and turned some nasty colors.  
That pain was pretty bearable, though, but what really sucked was the 
hot flashes.

	I'd just be sitting somewhere and bam, I was sweating and 
uncomfortable.  People probably thought I was on something, but 
withdrawal from testosterone was somewhat worse than just jonesing.  
I hadn't had a boner since the day Chris had castrated me, and that 
was really good - if I had gotten one in my swelled up state I'd 
probably have passed out from the pain.

	I met him, as usual, in the coffeehouse.  He took me back to 
his place, and once inside, had me strip.  All I was wearing was 
sandals, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt; no underwear or socks or 
anything else.  He tooks scissors and cut up all of that, then 
trashed it.  "You are not to leave," he said.  "Ever."  I nodded 
understanding.  He pulled off his clothing and put some music on the 
stereo (Stone Temple Pilots, the good CD - Purple), then just lay 
back on his couch, his legs spread, his cock growing erect.  He 
stared at me and I knew what to do.

	I took him in mouth, I, the lowly eunuch, sucking off my 
master.  I pushed other thoughts out of my head as I concentrated on 
his cock, every inch of skin, the head, the scrotum with its precious 
cargo.  Even the light blond stubble felt good on my smooth 
face...all my body and facial hair had started to fall out a few days 
after I had been gelded, so I shaved it, and it didn't really grow 
back.

	Even so, sucking on his cock was getting me surprisingly 
horny.  My cock stiffened a little, and it did indeed hurt.  The 
feeling was strange without the weight of my balls beneath it; more 
internal in a way.  I took his balls in my mouth and bit a little, 
and for an instant, considered biting them off.  Wouldn't that be a 
surprise...  Chris seemed to like it, so I moved them around with my 
tongue and reached up to his chest.  My asshole itched to be fucked, 
but I didn't want to say anything.  I fondled Chris' nipples and 
worked my way back up to his cock until he came.  He pulled out and 
spurted onto my chest and stomach, jacking himself off slowly and 
watching as the pearl drops spattered my sixpack.



	Life continued like this for a good two weeks as my cock 
healed up.  Chris worked most late nights/early mornings for UPS.  He 
would leave around 1:30AM and return around 10:30, worn out and 
tired.  When he was at work I cleaned up, kept things organized, and 
worked out on the weight set.  He ordered me to work out daily as 
without testosterone my muscles would be prone to shrivel, and he did 
not want that.  I was not allowed television unless he wanted to 
watch it as well, but I could read books, which he had many of.  
After he got off work he'd eat something (that I had to cook), then 
sleep until seven or so.  Two nights a week he took a martial arts 
class and afterward I would give him a massage and suck him off.  
Every time, my ass would cry for attention and never get it.  It 
didn't help that I was kept naked.

	We talked more, usually over dinner.  I'd ask how his day 
went; he'd tell me.  I wanted to bring up the subject of my cock 
coming off but was afraid to breach it.  I finally got to see him 
smile a few times, and it was a little scary...almost predatory.  
Conversation wasn't important to him, really, but he didn't seem to 
mind talking to me, and to be honest I got a little lonely when he 
wasn't there.

	One night he had some friends over.  He allowed me to wear 
shorts and a t-shirt then, which felt kinda weird at that point.  As 
I was becoming more submissive, I didn't talk much, and we all just 
sat around and listened to music.  They smoked some hash and watched 
a movie.  I fell asleep in Chris' arms.

	Sometimes when he was gone I'd go into the trophy room and 
look around.  I'd look at my picture, sometimes, the last in the 
series so far, and my balls on little pedastals in front of it.  I 
took a look at Jason, too, and shook my head at his happiness at 
losing his cock - it was a rather nice one.  I looked more carefully 
at some of the other pictures as well and almost thought I recognized 
some of them, but was never really able to place them.

	On the second Thursday Chris told me that he was having 
someone over for a 'treatment.'  Apparently he supplemented his 
income by doing scenes for people with, well, unorthodox fantasies.  
He wanted me on hand.  I wasn't to talk, and in fact was to wear a 
hood the whole time - not for me, but for the john.

	The guy showed up.  Chris looked out the peephole and told me 
to answer the door once he got back to the trophy room, then to lead 
him back there.  I waited a moment, then opened the door.  I was a 
little nervous about doing this, as this would be the first time I 
was exposing my current state to anybody.

	I swung the door open slowly and the both of us took a quick 
breath - he at seeing me, and me at seeing that this guy had been in 
one of my classes last semester!  He had sat behind me and I think he 
boxed, as he had that sort of build - strong but compact - and 
sometimes came in with bruises.  Of course, an alternate explanation 
might be Chris.

	He stepped in, staring at my groin.  By now it was only 
slightly discolored and my scrotum had shrunk to just wrinkles.  The 
scar wasn't easily visible among the wrinkles, and the odd color was 
just a little off-yellow, and didn't really show up well except in 
bright light.  I shut the door behind him and led him back to the 
trophy room.

	Chris stood there in a sort of harness, wearing wrist cuffs 
and leather pants tight enough to cut off circulation to his legs.  
They did have the added effect of showing off his genitals and leg 
muscles in perfect detail.  The john, whose name I couldn't remember, 
bowed his head and kneeled before Chris.

	His attitude was a little different than it was with me.  He 
ordered him around still, but his voice had a harder edge to it, like 
he really wanted to hurt this guy.  "You may strip."  The john stood 
and did so.  Chris handed him a harness, collar, and a jockstrap-
looking thing with a number of nasty-looking little spikes on the 
inside.  The john put them on and lay on the table, supine, while 
Chris tied him up.

	"You're two minutes late, boy," Chris said to him, walking 
circles around the table.

	"I'm sorry, sir."

	Chris whipped his belly lightly.  "I did not tell you to 
speak."  He drew the whip across the rising welt and leaned over the 
john, placing his hand over the pouch of the jock-thing.  "What have 
you done this week that you need to be punished for?"

	The john closed his eyes.  "I...I couldn't resist the urge, 
and masturbated once, sir."

	"That's a very bad offense, boy.  What else?"  He began to 
squeeze the pouch slightly.

	"I...forgot to shave myself on Tuesday."  Chris squeezed 
harder.

	"And...?"

	The john winced in pain, and looked over at me.  "I was late 
today, sir."

	"What else?"

	"And...and...I have had sixteen unauthorized erections during 
the week.  One was just a minute ago, looking at..." he looked toward 
me, "...him."

	"Well, now," Chris said.  "You have been a bad boy, haven't 
you, Jack?  Veeeery bad."  Chris stood up and pulled a wheeled cart 
out of the corner with all manner of implements on it.  First was a 
pair of alligator clips, which he attacked to Jack's nipples.  They 
bled a little.  "These are for forgetting to shave."  Chris kissed 
him lightly on the belly, then bit.  He held up a needle next.  "This 
is for masturbating."  He forced Jack's tongue out and pressed the 
needle through.  Jack moaned, and Chris left the needle in.

	For the first time since my balls had been cut out I was 
actually getting a little bit hard.  I was not into pain at all but 
watching this scene had me a little hot n' sweaty.

	Chris moved the clips around a little, then punched Jack in 
the gut.  He strained at the restraints and tried to double over.  
"What to do about the masturbation, then, boy?" asked Chris to no one 
in particular.  He pulled off the jock, and Jack's semi-hard cock 
sprung forth.  Chris held Jack's balls in his hand.  "Perhaps we 
should just remove these, hmmm?"  He dropped them and grabbed Chris' 
cock.  "Or maybe just this?"  He pulled on Chris' cock until the skin 
was stretching.  "Or maybe all of it?  I could add you to the 
collection!"

	The codpiece grew a lump and Jack nearly screamed.  His chest 
tightened and his arms and legs clenched, muscles bulging, but he 
held most of the scream in and let out a slight whimper.  Chris got 
some sort of tool that looked like pliers and snapped a very tight-
looking band around the neck of Jack's scrotum.  The skin of his sac 
stretched out tight and the veins in it could be seen in perfect 
relief.  They turned purple rather quickly.  I noticed for the first 
time that Chris was hard, too.  My cock was filling up a little 
too...still mostly soft, but pulling away from my body a little bit.  
I was breathing heavily.

	"Slave!" Chris called.  I looked to him.  "Come here!"  I 
did.  "Straddle him.  Put your useless cock in his mouth!"  I did so, 
wondering what good it would do.  Chris ordered Jack to suck it.

	As my cock entered Jack's mouth it grew still harder.  Even 
though the sexual desire was mostly gone, the desire for pleasure was 
still there, and it did indeed feel good to have my cock in the moise 
warmth of Jack's mouth.  Poor Jack sucked away, licking for all he 
was worth, while I could feel the swish of the whip on his belly and 
balls.  He would shudder every time but he never closed his mouth.  I 
began to wonder what would happen if he bit my dick off, which only 
got me hotter and finally to full erection.  After a month without 
them I'd forgotten how big my dick could get.  It looked even bigger 
without the balls  beneath it.  The bruising made it hurt every time 
Jack touched it, but it felt so good that I had a hard time (so to 
speak) not enjoying it.

	Chris talked about how Jack's balls were dying, and soon he'd 
be a worthless eunuch like me.  I wondered if Chris really felt this 
way about me, and hoped not.  Jack continued to work on my cock, but 
while he was keeping me hard he couldn't take me all the way.  "Slave 
cums or Jack's balls die!" Chris shouted.  It became clear to me in a 
minute or two that Jack was going to end up a eunuch after all.  
Chris then started fingering me, and that combined with the blow got 
me off.

	I shuddered, and could feel something coming out of my dick.  
All the pleasure was there, and maybe a little more since it had been 
a month.  I nearly fell off the table, but kept steady and just 
closed my eyes.  Chris ordered me off Jack.

	"Well, since you seem to have succeeded this time, perhaps 
you may keep your worthless boy's balls for one more week."  He cut 
off the band and Jack exhaled with relief.  Chris massaged Jack's 
scrotum while I returned to my place in the corner, breathing 
heavily.  The restraints were released, and Chris ordered Jack to 
jack himself off into his hand.  "Lick every drop.  You miss one, I 
flay the skin from your ass."  It didn't take him long, and he licked 
it with pleasure.

	This appeared to be the end of the session, as Jack was 
allowed to remove the leather bits and dress himself again.  Chris 
told me to shower while they went back out to the front room.  I 
could hear them talking and making arrangements to meet again next 
week.



	Later, he showed me a fifty.  "If I decide to let you out of 
the apartment sometime, this will be yours to spend.  You did well 
tonight."

	"Cool!" I said.  Although being what amounted to a prostitute 
was kinda weird.  "Umm, Chris?  Sir?"

	"Yes?" he sounded very relaxed.

	"Did you mean the things you said, about me being worthless?"

	"No.  He gets off on the thought that without balls he'd be a 
worthless nothing.  I don't actually want to castrate him yet, 
though, which is why I helped him make you cum.  I didn't think he'd 
be able to do it, so I helped him without letting him know."

	"How many guys have you castrated, anyway?" I asked.  

	"All of them in the trophy room, plus my first two when I was 
younger."

	"So all of them let you take their cocks too?"

	"After they're nutted, they, without exception, eventually 
want something else cut off, assuming they don't lose it all at once, 
which is the most