Stamboul Slavers Part 4: Virgin Bulls

After many years as the leading slave marketers of the Ottoman 
capital, my father's business decides to introduce a deluxe range of 
eunuchs for the Empire's leading private harems.

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Stamboul Slavers  Part 4: Virgin Bulls

After many years as the leading slave marketers of the Ottoman 
capital, my father's business decides to introduce a deluxe range of 
eunuchs for the Empire's leading private harems. 

The Cutting

When the yardmaster and I entered the bathhouse with the young blond 
slave, now bound with his hands behind his back, the workers and the 
African slave were sitting awaiting our return. They had finished 
washing the black slave, who probably never having had a hot bath in 
his life, let alone with soap, was sitting with a vacant contented 
look. "Put this one in the tub and wash him like the other" said the 
yardmaster as he handed the boy to one of the workers. Either out of 
fear or out of resistance, the boy began to resist as he was taken 
to the bath's edge. "Are you sure it's not his balls that we should 
be cutting off this one" said the yardmaster to me as we watched the 
two workers struggling to wash the boy. "Oh, he'll settle down once 
he sees what he's lost" I replied, determined to keep tonight's 
plans on track.

Eventually the boy was washed and dried. Still proving difficult, 
the yardmaster said to the workers "you two had best walk on either 
side of this one; I'll take the black". The six of us then walked 
over to the storeroom. I was surprised to see how the yardmaster 
handled the black slave. He smiled at him, patted him on the 
shoulder and bade him walk with us. Even though his hands were still 
bound behind his back, he happily complied. Years of dealing with 
large numbers of slaves had given the yardmaster the ability to 
judge the danger presented by any one slave.

The workers walked the blond boy into the storeroom ahead of the 
black slave, the yardmaster and me. As soon as the boy enter the 
storeroom he began to struggle violently; he had seen the table with 
the ropes tied the four legs and being more suspicious than the 
other slave, must have suddenly understood that he was to be 
operated on in some way. My father must have realized the danger 
posed by the two slaves being able to see tonight's cutting table; 
especially the older, more powerful black one before he was drugged. 
"Turn that black to face the wall until I say so" he said to the 
yardmaster as we walked into the room with the other slave. The 
yardmaster grabbed the slave by the arm and turned him into the 
wall. Still seemingly uncomprehending, the black slave stood quietly 
facing the wall.

"This one needs to be taught some submissiveness before we procede" 
said my father as he walked over to inspect my choice of boy slave 
for the longer of our two experiments (the boy was to be kept and 
worked till he reached his 16th or 17th year to see how his muscles 
and body filled out; the black slave was to be sold as soon as he 
recovered from his cutting). "Tie him face down over the edge of the 
table and tie his two legs down here at the base of the two table 
legs" my father said as he walked into our adjoining pantry. 
Emerging with a jug of olive oil, he told the workers, who had by 
now secured the boy to the table, to tie the gag into the boy's 
mouth. While they did this, my father poured some of the oil into 
his hand and began to rub the opening of the now franticly twisting 
boy's now exposed opening.. 

By now he had a finger well into the boy. "Turn the black around so 
he can see what I've got planned for our friend". As the black slave 
was turned around by the yardmaster, my father smiled at him and 
gesturing to where he had his finger in the boy. He waited till the 
slave could see what was expected of him and taking his oiled hand 
away from the now sobbing boy, he walked over to the black and 
started to oil up his shaft with the same hand. The slave quickly 
grew an erection that reflected his well-muscled warrior's body. 
"Untie his hands" said my father. This done, he led the slave over 
to where the quivering boy lay bound and placing the hands of the 
black on either side of the boy's waist, poured oil from the jar 
straight onto the black's erection, placing it into the boy's 
opening ready for penetration.

The black held onto the bound slave for some time before flexing his 
legs in readiness for the push into the boy. It was probably the 
first time 'the Mandingo' had had sex of any kind since his capture, 
who knows how many months earlier. Suddenly with a huge sigh the 
black slave pushed his erect shaft into the boy who screamed into 
his gag while riding violently on what was now inside him. Looking 
around at the rest of us in the storeroom, our Mandingo gave out the 
broadest of smiles. Now tightly holding the boy by the waist, he 
began violently thrusting in and out, probably working off the 
humiliations and fears of his life since capture. He wasn't long in 
coming. With a violent last series of shudders and moan of the 
deepest release the slave emptied himself into the now passive and 
sweating boy. He leaned forward over the boy as if to cover him in 
final conquest and this being done, stood up and withdrew from the 
boy's opening. As he did, a small trickle of blood ran down the 
boy's left leg.

My father walked over to the Mandingo and patted him on the 
shoulder. The unsuspecting slave stood broadly smiling as my father 
said to the yardmaster "untie that one and clear the table; I want 
to give our friend here a drink for his services". At that he walked 
over to the side bench and taking a flask of fruit wine, poured out 
the wine into six cups. I noticed that one of the cups had been set 
aside, concluding that this cup must already have the sleeping drug 
put into it. By now the blond boy slave had been untied from his 
bounds and placed at the side of the table. Shivering and moaning 
quietly, he was too shaken to be any trouble. My father sure enough 
picked up the set aside cup as well as another. Walking back to the 
table he sat up onto the end of the table and bid the Mandingo sit 
beside him; holding out the drugged wine with a smile. The happy 
slave came over and sitting up on the end of the table, took the cup 
from my father. By now the yardmaster, my brothers and I had each 
taken a cup. Smiling at the slave, my father lifted his cup as we 
all did, the Mandingo now following along as well. 

 "Empty your cups everyone" said my father. We all followed his 
lead. This was to be our Mandingo's last memory of manhood; he 
gulped down the contents of his drugged cup with glee. As we all 
stood around waiting for the drug to overwhelm the slave, my eldest 
brother said suddenly pointing at the erection that I had forgot 
about "I can see why you are so eager for us to make these 'virgin 
bulls'; you should become our firm's eunuch expert judging from the 
size of your enthusiasm for slave cutting". My father smiled and 
then suddenly took hold of the slave's upper arm as he started to 
show the effects of the drug. Soon too groggy to sit up, the slave 
was stretched out onto the table. Widely yawning while trying to 
keep his eyes open, he suddenly stretched out his two arms and two 
legs towards the corners of the table as if waking in the morning, 
but under the present situation, almost stretching himself out ready 
for roping. This was quickly done; by now the black slave was too 
semi-conscious to resist.

Turning to the blond slave boy, quietly moaning into his gag on the 
floor, my father said "tie this boy by his hands to that beam at the 
back of the table; I want him to see what we'll be doing next to 
him. It should provide him with something to think about while we 
build him up". As the workers were carrying out this instruction he 
told me to soap the olive oil off the Mandingo's genitals. I went 
out of the storeroom to get some water and soap and before returning 
had to sit on one of the benches in the yard and come into my hand. 
I could see slaves watching me from the darkness of their pens but 
I'd rather that than suddenly coming during tonight's cutting.

"What kept you" said my father as I walked into the storeroom, 
"you're holding us up; the night is getting on". I quickly washed 
the still semi-erect shaft and big balls of the black giant. Now we 
were ready at last to begin. My father would do the cutting; he had 
with him by now a small metal knife which he was sharpening on a rub 
stone. Putting that down on a small side-table that he had moved to 
the edge of the main table, he went over to the bench and collected 
his other needs. He brought back a length of fresh cloth, a needle 
together with some catgut, some medical powder and curiously, a 
small length of wooden rod about the size of a small boy's finger. 
He also had with him the olive oil jar. Placing these items on the 
side-table he said "well son, here we go with your big idea. Let's 
hope this works". 

He began by pricking the slave's thigh with the end of his knife. 
The now sleeping slave gave out a small moan and turned slightly in 
his tight bindings. Satisfied that the slave was now unconscious, my 
father took his knife and stretching out the slave's shaft along his 
belly, carefully cut across his shaft's pisstube at the point where 
the slave's sack was attached to the base of his shaft. I was 
surprised that he didn't cut into the shaft from the other side and 
said so. "I want to be able to judge how to keep his balls and sack 
attached" he answered "and also I want to be able to insert this 
length of rod into his pisshole to make sure that it stays open 
while I cut off his shaft".

That said he took the short length of rod and dipping the end into 
olive oil, pushed it into the now exposed opening to the slave's 
pisshole. With the wooden plug now sticking out almost vertically 
from the slave's body, my father took up his knife and began 
carefully cutting through the shaft towards the rod, level to the 
slave's belly. Once he had finished his cutting  (and he had seemed 
to me to take forever; not slicing the shaft off with a single cut, 
but rather by means of a series of small slices) he held the now 
loosened shaft by the end, pulling it slowly away from where it had 
been attached to the slave's body and you could say, manhood. He 
turned from the table and placed the shaft into the jug of olive 
oil. In response to the obvious surprise of the rest of us in the 
room, he said "I want to preserve this piece of sausage, maybe to 
use as an ear pendent for this slave when we sell him". 

Turning back to the now bleeding slave, my father sprinkled the 
medicinal powder on the exposed flesh that indicated where the shaft 
had been cut through. He then took up the needle and catgut and 
began closing over the exposed flesh by sowing either side of the 
cut together. Looked not unlike like a "small set of cunt flaps" 
said my eldest brother when my father had finished sowing up the 
slave's cut. This finished, he then took a second needle and catgut, 
and began sowing those parts of the slave's sack that had been cut 
through in order to detached the shaft. He sowed the exposed edges 
of the upper sack to the slave's body around the protruding wooden 
rod. "Might as well add to the look by giving him a bit of a cunt" 
said my father with a smile as he sowed.

I had been so busy watching the cutting that I had completely 
forgotten to look up at the other slave and see how the boy was 
reacting to all the surgery. While my brothers began to untie the 
now neutered Mandingo I remembered that the blond boy was next. 
Looking at him with his hands tied over his head, his gaze directed 
down the length of the other slave's prone body, I could tell from 
his look and the fresh sweat on his face that he had recovered 
enough from his deflowering to see what changes were being made that 
night with the knife.
As the still unconscious black slave was lifted off the table a look 
of terror overcame his face as he now sensed that he would be next. 
Meanwhile the workers had carried the black neuter into the lockable 
side room where he was laid out on fresh straw.

The yardmaster and my father now walked over to the boy and holding 
him tightly, untied him from the overhead beam. Despite his weakness 
from the pounding that he had received earlier he struggled and 
kicked violently. "This one should muscle up real well, given the 
strength he's still got now" said the yardmaster as my father and 
the two workers tried to tie down his flailing limbs. "Tie him down 
with ropes across his chest and belly" said my father "and make them 
tight; I don't want any bucking on the table from this one". The boy 
finally stopped struggling once the ropes started to cut into the 
flesh of his torso. Now all was ready for the real experiment to 
begin. Here was our 'virgin bull' ready for the cutting; I could 
feel my erection quickly returning.

"Stand behind him and hold up his head so he can see his 
transformation" said my father looking at me. A bit surprised at my 
role in the second cutting of the night, I did as I was asked. As I 
took hold of the boy's head in my hands I looked down into his now 
frantic face which seemed suddenly quite beautiful in its 
desperation. For a moment I thought to ask if I could take off the 
gag to see his face better; even to muffle his screams with my kiss. 
But suddenly as I was gazing down into the boy slave's face a look 
of pain closed over it, and looking up I could see my father 
reaching for the wooden rod, having already cut through the boy's 
piss tube. I held the boy's head up, chin on chest, as my father 
slowly pushed the rod into his body. The boy was shaking violently 
as much as the ropes would allow; sweating and moaning too. As my 
father began the slicing off of the shaft, beginning again at the 
opposite side to the plug, the young slave gave out a final moan and 
fainted away from the pain. 

Again the severed shaft was placed in the olive oil jug and then the 
wounds were sowed together. "I'm getting better at this" said my 
father as he stitched the small red wound that was the base of the 
boy's shaft. "Must remember when doing this in the future" he said 
looking up at me "not to put the needle through the cords that link 
the balls to the body of the slave. They must be undamaged so his 
balls can continue to give him the juice that muscles grow on". Now 
he was finished and standing up indicated to the workers to untie 
the young slave and set him beside the other neuter in the side 
room. We all followed them into the adjoining room. "Better tie both 
of them at the ankles and knees to prevent any movement near the 
cuttings" said the yardmaster. While that was being done my father 
turned to me and said "well son, you've really started in the family 
business tonight. Tomorrow I want you and the yardmaster to leave 
for the great slave markets in Cairo. You can learn to be our chief 
eunuch buyer and after tonight, our chief eunuch maker! You'll miss 
the sale of the black but you'll have your little blond pet to come 
back too". Dreams must come true; they did for me this night.

The End

Starting soon to this web site -  Stamboul Slavers Part 2: The Great 
Eunuch Bazaar