Retribution

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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Retribution
by Bill


I never really knew who had attacked Linda.  Of course, at the time 
all of this happened, I didn't even know she had been attacked.  None 
of us did.  After talking with the other guys in the fraternity, I 
don't think it was even one of us.  There were a lot of people here 
for the party that night.  Linda's sorority, several other 
fraternities, lots of friends, and friends of friends...  I don't 
think anyone knows who they all were.  And neither Linda or her daddy 
ever told us who did it.  But, as I said, when all of this happened, 
none of us knew there had even been an attack.



It was near the end of the school year.  Linda's dad had offered to 
throw a party for our frat.  He said it was in return for all the fun 
Linda had had at our house.  He was a rancher and the party was to be 
a steak fry.  He was going to bring some of the guys from the ranch 
and set up a barbeque in our back yard.  It was just for our frat, 
but we were encouraged to invite the guys that didn't live in the 
house.  The party was on a Friday night and the turn out was really 
good.  I think we had all of the active members there -- probably 
about seventy-five guys.  I was really enjoying myself.  It was warm 
and most of the guys were in shorts with no shirts.  Some of the 
cowboys were real hunks too!  Lots of nice well defined chests and 
hot legs to look at.  Some of them really well covered with fur too.  
Woof!  I've been lucky in that the guys in the frat have never given 
me a hard time about being gay.  There are five of us who are (that 
are out) and the rest don't mind us looking.



The food was delicious.  The steaks were huge and tender.  There was 
a salad, vegetables, home-made rolls.  It was a very good meal.  I 
started to feel drowsy within fifteen minutes after eating.  I 
noticed that several other guys were walking funny or had fallen to 
the ground.  Then I passed out.  When I woke, it took a while to 
figure out that I was in the basement rec room of the house.  After 
working that out, I realized that I was naked.  When I moved, I heard 
a rattle and felt a pull on my nuts.  A heavy padlock had been 
fastened around my sac above the balls.  A thick chain was welded to 
the body of the lock and ran off in either direction, connecting me 
to the guys on each side.  As I looked around, I saw that all of my 
frat brothers were chained together -- each of us with a lock on our 
nuts connecting us to the long chain.  I was damn scared.  I was also 
excited and within seconds had a full hardon.



It took nearly an hour for everyone to awaken.  During that time, all 
questions, complaints and demands were ignored.  Finally, when all 
the guys were awake, the old man explained that we were to be 
punished for the attack on his daughter.  There was a lot of 
shouting; there were demands; we tried to tell him none of us had 
done anything; all of it was ignored and with those locks and that 
heavy chain hanging from each guy's nuts, there wasn't a damned thing 
we could do about it.  Several of the cowboys pushed the pool table 
to the center of the room.  Three of them stepped up to the brother 
at one end of the chain.  While two of the men held my brother's 
arms, the other unlocked the padlock and freed him from the chain.  
All of our captors carried stun guns and we had been told that if 
they were forced to use them, they would try for groin shots.  The 
first victim's name was Ken.  As far as I was concerned, he was a 
real hunk.  Ken had a great build without being musclebound.  One of 
his biggest assets, from my point of view, was that he was a hairy 
blond.  The hair on his head was pale yellow -- probably from sun 
bleaching.  His chest was covered with a thick, curly, golden mat 
that spread across his belly and down to his thick pubes.  On his 
arms and legs, he had a luxuriant growth of straighter golden fur.  
Ken was also hung like the proverbial horse with a heavy cock and 
large balls.



Ken was pushed face down on the pool table, bent at the waist, his 
feet on the floor.  His arms were folded wrist to elbow behind his 
back and securely tied.  The two cowboys continued holding him while 
two more looped ropes around each ankle.  One end of each ankle rope 
was tied to a table leg.  They didn't even tie the ropes to his legs 
but merely used them to pull his legs wide, one ankle pulled against 
each of the legs of the pool table.  We had a clear view of Ken's 
large nuts hanging exposed between his widespread, muscular thighs.  
While his men held the guy imobile, Linda's dad used a strange 
looking pliers like tool to stretch a tiny band.  He laid the tool on 
the table a few inches from Ken's face while he put the band in 
place.  Ken had grown up on a farm and obviously recognized the 
tool.  He began to scream "No, Noooo" over and over again.  He fought 
the men holding him but with no effect.  The older man grasped my 
friend's balls and worked them through the band one at a time.  Then 
he forced the band off the tool so that it snapped tight around the 
neck of the guy's sac.  As soon as he felt the band snap down, Ken 
seemed to give up.  He relaxed but we could still hear an occasional 
sob.  Though I'd never before seen a tool like this one or one of the 
little bands, I was beginning to get a pretty fair idea of what they 
were for.  The funny thing was, that even so I was still as hard as a 
rock.  This whole bondage thing was really exciting.



The first victim was done.  They worked quickly, freeing us one at a 
time, binding our arms and then banding us.  I was third in line.  
Neither Ken nor Rob, the second victim, had seemed to be in pain when 
when the band was snapped in place.  However, by the time they were 
coming for me, Ken was obviously in pain.  He was squirming around on 
the floor and moaning.  I could see his trapped balls.  The skin of 
his sac had turned a dark blue.  At this point I was certain that we 
were being castrated.  Struggling seemed pointless so I went quietly 
to the table and lay while my arms were bound and my legs spread.  
The cowboys made several snickering remarks about my hardon.  I 
didn't feel too embarassed because as I looked around, I saw several 
other guys with rods sticking up.  As he had with the other two, the 
leader made sure that I could see him preparing the tool.  I felt him 
grab my balls.  He didn't squeeze; he just worked them gently to 
loosen them in the sac.  Then I felt him pull some of my skin through 
the stretched band.  Finally, one at a time, he forced my balls 
through.  When he snapped the band off the prongs of the tool, I 
expected a sting but though I felt an increrdible tightness around my 
sac, there was no pain.  I was still hard as a rock.  One of the 
cowboys grinned and flicked a finger at my rod.



By the time they were done with me, both Ken and Rob were writhing on 
the floor under the watchful eyes of two more of our captors.  I soon 
began to understand what was bothering them.  Within a few minutes, 
everything below the band that trapped my balls had turned dark blue 
and my nuts had begun to scream for nourishment.  The pain traveled 
up into my gut and felt as though someone was squeezing my balls with 
slowly increasing pressure.  I just kept getting worse.  By now, Ken 
had passed from moaning to screaming and crying and it wasn't very 
long before both Rob and I had joined in.



Of course now everyone had pretty much figured out what was 
happening.  It was clear that there was a lot of pain involved and it 
took a lot more time to do each of the rest of the guys than it had 
for us three.  The guys were being dragged kicking and screaming to 
the table to be banded.  This in spite of continued threats of the 
stun guns.  Those of us that were rolling around on the floor moaning 
and crying had the guys more worried than the guns.  The resistance 
did no good.  All of us were banded.  It took maybe three hours to 
tie and band all of us.  By this time, my pain had almost gone.  My 
gut was still sore, but I wasn't curled into a ball sobbing has I had 
been earlier.  



The leader confirmed our guesses about what had been done to us a bit 
later.  He waited until the last guys to be banded had recovered from 
the worst of the pain.  By then, everyone's balls were dark blue to 
black.  Mine were numb.  I could feel them brush against the hairs on 
my leg, but all the feeling was in the leg.  There was none 
whatsoever in my nuts.  We were shown us a training video on using an 
elastrator.  By the time it was over, several of the guys were crying 
again.  All of us were in shock.  The video showed close-ups of 
placing the bands on calves.  Then it showed shots of the banded 
calves after an hour, two hours, four hours and so on.  The shots 
after a few weeks showed a blackend, shrivelled mass where a set of 
healthy balls had been.  Finally, the picture showed the shrunken 
scrotum and contents just falling to the ground, the calf completely 
unaware that his castration was now complete..



We were kept bound for the rest of the night.  When nature called, 
one of our captors held our dicks or wiped our asses as needed.  
Strange -- in some ways, I think most of us found this indignity 
almost as bad as being nutted.  Finally, they fed us one last time.  
Drugs again!  When we awoke, the men were gone and our arms were 
free.  Of course, there was absolutely nothing the doctors could do 
except clean things up a bit.  Seventy-five studs had come to a party 
and left as geldings.  I am amazed that we managed to keep the whole 
thing out of the papers; though there were lots of rumors.  Most of 
us actually remained in school and continued living in the house.  I 
will say that we had a hell of a time getting new pledges for a few 
years.  Seems we made prospective new guys really nervous when we 
told them the story and showed the evidence.  There were a few though 
who seemed really turned on...  At any rate we did get some to pledge.



As far as Linda's dad was concerned, of course he looked nothing like 
the leader of the group that processed us.  And none of his ranch 
hands were the guys that helped him.  We believed that the story we'd 
been told was true but, if so, the old man had hired the job done and 
there was no way in the world of proving it.