Byzantium 5: Reluctantly Gelded

A fourteen year old slave is gelded to prevent him from breeding. 
The estate-manger who castrates him suddenly discovers a strange 
attraction.

By the author of the Byzantium stories, SS Research Unit, Gelding 
the Boy-herd, Cut Slave etc.

back to index

I was standing with the master at a second floor window, looking 
down onto the courtyard. A young blond slave, a household boy, was 
talking to one of the laundry maids. The youth was around fourteen, 
and his whole stance, as he talked to the girl was one of sexual 
interest. I even suspected that he had an erection as he laughed and 
flirted with the girl, who was around the same age as him.

The master and I had been planning the olive harvest when he had 
noticed the boy and paused to watch.

'How are his brothers?" the master asked me, nodding towards the 
youth.

'Good,' I said.

'Stephanos' wife pregnant is she?'

I nodded. The young slave's brothers, one eighteen and the other 
twenty, had fathered at least three children over the last year. 
There had been dramatics in the slave quarters when the young wife 
of Stephanos, the head gardener, had left him for one of the 
brothers, but she had been persuaded to return. She was now pregnant 
however, and Stephanos' face betrayed the fact that he was probably 
not the child's father.

The master stood there a while longer looking at the boy in the 
courtyard. The youth's whole manner indicated presumption, just like 
his brothers. As far as he was concerned he had a god-given right to 
any of the unattached slave-girls. I was sure he was no virgin, even 
at his young age. And just like his brothers he had been gifted with 
good-looks: corn-blond hair, grey-green eyes, regular features, a 
skin that caught the sun and tanned easily and pleasingly.

'I've decided that I don't want to breed him,' said the master 
meditatively, indicating the boy with his eyes. 'We'll have too many 
slaves of his bloodline around. It isn't healthy. I've thought about 
putting him in the guest house but I do not suspect he'd take to 
it.'

While the master had no interest in sharing his bed with a 
goodlooking youth, a number of his friends did and he always kept 
one or two boys in the guest house to act as servants in the day and 
bed-mates for the guests at night.

'My wife could use him, though, if he was gelded.'

I do not like having to geld any of our slaves. Too often, their 
manhood is all that slaves have. To take that from them seems to me 
to be a cruel thing. Unlike some men, the master does not demand it 
often, and the only eunuchs he has, two of them, serve in the 
women's quarters. I wanted to suggest that given the choice between 
losing his balls and having to turn up his rear for the master's 
guests, the boy would probably choose the latter with enthusiasm, 
but as I struggled for a way to say this without seeming to 
contradict my master, I saw his face focus into resolve.

'How soon could you nut him?'

I cleared my throat.

'We could do it today,' I replied, 'if the master wishes.'

He nodded firmly. Then as if he had not made a decision which would 
forever change the course of a slave's existence, we returned to 
organisational details of the olive harvest. I watched the youth 
over his shoulder, as the slave continued his flirtation with the 
girl unrealising that it would be the last time he would take an 
interest in a woman, and not knowing his fate which had just been 
decided. Then the girl was called back to her work, and the boy 
disappeared into the kitchen garden, while I tied to focus on the 
number of amphorae we would need for the harvest.

After the master released me from his plans, I went reluctantly to 
the room where we did the gelding. It was off one of the older 
courtyards at the back of the house. The bench where they were tied 
was mainly used as a cobbler's bench now and I had to clear it of 
the lasts and the awls, as well as tie ropes to each of the four 
legs so that the boy could be firmly bound in place. I have heard 
tell that some slaves voluntarily go to be castrated so that they 
can serve their masters better, but I do not believe it. In my 
experience, you need strong bonds to hold a slave while the 
operation is done. I did the job myself because if I had summoned 
any other slave to do it, the fact that a slave was about to be 
gelded would be all over the house in a matter of minutes. 

Next to the cobbler's shop were two rooms that were used when a 
slave was sick or injured. There were some straw-pallets there and I 
put them out in the sun to be aired. The boy would remain here to 
heal for a week before going to begin his new life in the women's 
quarters. 

The last time we had gelded slaves was some five years previously 
when the master married again. He had chosen two fifteen year olds 
to be cut for his new wife. I nutted them one after the other and 
tended them later. I can remember walking into that room again that 
evening, with the two of them lying on their pallets, their legs 
spread out before them, turning their heads away from me who had 
done it to them. Then I had gently washed down their pricks which 
were soon to become useless, and that cauterised bit of skin, where 
once their balls had hung, with their thighs wide apart to allow me 
there.

Then I had to hunt out the gelding knives from where they were 
stored, on a high shelf near the rafters, wrapped in a piece of 
cloth that had been soaked with olive oil. They had to be wiped down 
with a dry rag, and then carefully resharpened. Even though I needed 
only one of the small curved sickle-shaped knives, I sharpened all 
three, making sure I had honed them to the highest degree I could. 
The clamp was in the same cloth. Cast from bronze, it had a round 
hole at one end, angled to the main body of the small clamp. The 
prick of the youth to be gelded fitted through this hole which kept 
it up and out of the way. The small two-sided clamp was hinged to 
it's base. You closed it tight over the top of the scrotum and then 
used the attached thong to wind tight about the end. It's purpose 
was to hold the skin and cords tight, while the knife severed the 
balls. Then, still held tight, you could use a hot blade to 
cauterize the wound, before releasing it. 

Finally I had to set a fire in a brassier with kindling and charcoal 
so that I could heat a blade to sufficient temperature to cauterize 
that wound. When all of this was done I reluctantly went to complete 
the final preparations. I summoned two slaves, both were huskily 
built and around twenty years of age. I choose then not only for 
their strength but for the lesson which the gelding would convey to 
their minds. Both had been disobedient in the past. Showing them the 
power their master had over a slave's body would do them both the 
world of good.  

Their eyes widened when I instructed them what to do. And I ordered 
them to remain there while I went and found the boy. He was still in 
the kitchen gardens, picking beans under the supervision of  
Stephanos. I stood there at the gate and watched him for a moment. 
He was working with three other boys around the same age as him. 
They talked as they worked and I could see that he was confident in 
his every gesture, some how assured that he could get away with any 
action. Taking a deep breath, at what I was about to do, I walked 
over to Stephanos.

'I'm going to be taking the blond slave,' I said to him.

Stephanos frowned at me. We have never got on. 

'But I need him,' he said to me gesturing to the length of the 
bean-row and the unpicked beans. " I can't spare him.'

'The master has ordered me to geld the boy,' I said to the only 
person on the estate that might have derived satisfaction from the 
thought. I saw Stephanos' face settle around the idea. I wasn't 
wrong. He looked slyly pleased. He contemplated on the thought for a 
long moment.

'Pity you can't do both his brothers as well,' he said, at last, 
unpleasantly.  

I ignored Stephanos and went to the boy who stood up with the others 
they  saw me approach him. He gazed at me with curiosity. He was 
certainly an attractive boy.

'Come with me,' I said to him and I could feel my heart beat with 
that summons. 

He glanced at Stephanos then wiped his hands on his trousers and I 
led him out of the garden, aware of his presence two or three steps 
behind me as we walked through the passageways until we reached the 
back courtyard. The two slaves I had left their rose to their feet. 
I stood the boy in the yard directly in front of the two older 
slaves.

'Now take off your clothes,' I said to the boy in as even a voice as 
I could manage.

He looked confused for a moment and doubt crossed his face. 

'You heard me,' I said. 'Come on now. I haven't got all day.'

Reluctantly he began and slowly pulled his shirt over his head. 
Holding it in his hands, he wondered where to put it and I nodded at 
one of the other slaves to take it from him.

The boy was well tanned from his work in the gardens. While he was 
slim, he was filling out. His chest was smooth and his brown nipples 
were small points there. As he had pulled his shirt over his head, I 
had seen a small flash of darker hair in his armpits. I saw a 
movement of his throat as he began to undo the draw-string on his 
trousers. The confidence that had been such a notable point of his 
character had disappeared in favor of a nervous doubt. He fiddled 
about with the knot in the string for a long moment until he could 
no longer dissemble and he unravelled it and dropped his trousers to 
the ground, bent and picked them up and handed them to the waiting 
slave. His face was slightly flushed as he stood there entirely 
naked now in the sunlight and open to our gazes. 

He was pale where he had drawn off his trousers. His skin was white 
and creamy. There was a dark brown, neat patch of hair above his 
prick and balls. His thighs were long and smooth. There wasn't an 
ounce of fat on him and his muscles were clearly defined. Already he 
had a good-sized prick and his foreskin hugged his glans closely, 
just allowing the tip to be seen. His balls were rounded and drawn 
up beneath it. 

I walked around him slowly, eyeing him up and down. He stood there 
with his eyes downcast. 

Behind his rear was well-shaped with small muscular buttocks, 
somehow startlingly white. I thought again that it was a pity he had 
not been given the choice of being gelded or becoming a bed-slave in 
the guest house. There were many men who would have liked to have 
parted those smooth curved buttocks and to have plunged their pricks 
between them. 

When I came around and stood in front of him, I lifted his chin with 
my hand. He gazed back at me with a momentary recovery of his poise. 
Above his upper lip I could see the first thickening of facial hair. 
I ran a hand over his shoulders and down to one nipple.

'Stand with your legs apart,' I ordered.

Clumsily he widened them to a straddle, aware the prominence this 
gave to his genitals. I placed one hand down in the small of his 
back and eased him forward there, further drawing attention to his 
groin. Then I ran the other hand down over the moist skin of his 
flat stomach to finger for a moment the the dark brown curls of his 
pubic hair. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. Then I cupped his 
balls in the palm of my hand. He shivered. This was the first time 
he had been touched there by a man, especially in such circumstances 
as these. 

His balls were round and full. Somehow you could feel all the weight 
of sperm and desire within them. He was warm to the touch and his 
skin was soft and silky there. With my fingers I rolled his balls 
within that sac. Then I released my grip there and lifted his prick. 
I heard him swallow as I held that length in my hand. Both his 
brothers were well-hung and a few more years would have meant he 
would have acquired the same length. I peeled back his foreskin 
gently to expose his glans to the air. Then, from my touch and the 
warmth of my hand, I felt his prick stir slightly and I knew that if 
I continued to hold him, he would slowly become erect even against 
his own will. I let his prick fall and stood back from him. 

With my heart beating in my chest, I nodded to the slaves behind him 
who stepped forward and grasped his forearms before the boy had time 
to realise what was happening. He looked at them, then at me. I 
cleared my throat and stared straight into his eyes.

'The master doesn't wish to breed you,' I said with as calm a tone 
as I could manage. 'He wants me to geld you so you can be the 
mistress's personal slave.'

It was as if he hadn't heard me for a moment as he looked bewildered 
back and forth between the slaves' who grasped his forearms and me. 
Then my words must have suddenly meant something to him for his eyes 
widened and it was as if face drained of colour. I nodded at the 
slaves holding him again and they abruptly turned him and started to 
drag him to the bench. The boy's feet skidded on the dust of the 
courtyard then he found voice and began to struggle simultaneously. 

'I don't want to,' he managed to cry out in his newly-broken voice. 
The slaves continued to drag him towards the door of the room and he 
began then to twist and turn himself in their grip. It was only a 
moment before they reached the door and he could see the flatness of 
the empty bench with it's four ropes waiting for him. 

'No,' he cried as he was forced through the door, suddenly turned 
about and dragged onto the bench, his leg's flailing widely and 
giving me, who stood behind, open views of his balls and flapping 
prick between them. Hauling him up the bench, the two slaves dragged 
out his arms and took them to the corners. The boy continued to kick 
and twist and turn while I knotted each of the bonds around his 
wrists. Then the two slaves fought for his kicking ankles and pulled 
his legs out wide to the bench's lower corners and I completed the 
job, carefully tightening each of the lower ropes around his ankles.

He was still yelling. I grabbed the wet rag that I had laid out and 
held his nose until he had to hold his mouth open. Then I forced it 
in while he struggled to breathe. 

Finally I stood back from the bench. The boy was spayed out, his 
arms and legs drawn to the four corners. In the light of the window 
and of the glowing brassier the small patches of underarm hair and 
in his groin were dark. His chest rose and fell with his panicked 
breath and he still struggled futily against his bonds, though this 
struggle was only observably in the tightening of his muscles and 
the faint thrust of his hips, up and down. I too felt as if I had 
fought a long battle, even though I'd done very little.  I could see 
the boy's grey-green eyes watching me wide with both a shocked fear 
and a core beneath of anger and fury.

By the time I had picked up and adjusted the small clamp and turned 
back around again, I noticed that his prick was swelling towards 
erection along his flat stomach. He thighs, drawn so wide apart, 
opened his secret places up to my view. I could see beneath his 
balls where a faint line or hair ran down to the dark between his 
buttocks. He carried his balls high.

As I approached the bench with the clamp in my hands I saw his face 
flinch and he began another futile struggle against his bonds. 
Standing next to his waist, I took his swelling prick in one hand 
and slipped the round of the clamp over it, right down to the base 
where the bronze nestled in his dark brown pubic hair. Then I 
grasped his balls with one hand and pulled them out from his body, 
and closed the hinge clamp over the top of his scrotum. Holding the 
end of the clamp, I released his balls and started tying the thong 
about the end. I squeezed the clamp shut and he reacted with an 
upthrust of his hips. His prick, which was held up-right heaved into 
the air. It was still not stiff properly but lolled to one side. 
Then I tied the jaws of the clamp as tight as I could to hold the 
skin and the cords inside the scrotum in place. His balls now hung 
on one side like a pair of plums for the picking. 

The boy's skin was hot and sweaty to the touch. The sinews of his 
thighs where they joined his torso were tense. The two slaves were 
watching the whole thing with fixity, at once fascinated by the 
process and fearful that the same could be done to them at one word 
from the master. The unfamiliar weight of the metal and the dull 
pain of the clamp around the top of his balls must have united to 
stimulate the boy because, as I watched, the boys prick continued to 
swell. I saw his glans suddenly unhooded itself from the foreskin. 
It was a good straight length and any man would have been proud to 
have had it. Held upright by the clamp, it was a well-shaped pillar 
of flesh.

I turned back and chose a knife and I picked up a small bowl in 
which to place the severed balls and returned to the table. As soon 
as he saw the knife in my hand, the boy began to toss his head from 
side to side and his cry, although muffled from the gag, could 
clearly be heard. I could see the muscles of his calves and thighs 
strain with effort, and the motion raised and lowered his prick and 
his clamped balls. 

'Now, boy,' I said to him, 'I'll do you as quick as I can. Bite down 
hard on the gag.'

For a moment it looked as if he was beyond comprehension, but then I 
saw his jaw tighten as he came to realise the inevitable and 
surrender to it. I directed one of the slaves to stand at the head 
of the table, put his hand under the boy's jaw and pull it back, 
holding him firmly in place. This motion arced the boy's back, 
further thrusting his groin into the air. 

As I stood there with the boy's prick straight up before me and the 
balls held by the bronze clamp positioned perfectly for one sweep of 
the knife, I again thought how reluctant I was to do what my master 
had ordered. However, the boy would make a good eunuch with his 
handsome looks, there was no doubt about that. The removal of his 
balls would also still him and he would take orders easily.

I grasped the boy's balls with one hand. They fitted snugly there. 
That motion had jerked his stiff prick again and I noticed a clear 
fluid poised upon the tip. Taking the knife I eased it down between 
the boy's stretched thigh and his body, bringing up against the base 
of the clamp and resting it there. The boy's body seemed to shudder 
with tension as he waited.  

It is best to hold the knife firmly against the clamp and use that 
metal as a guide as one pulls the knife upwards and towards one so 
that the curved blade cuts from the bottom and the side 
simultaneously. I fingered the knife. It is always good to give the 
slave a moment of waiting. If it must be done, it should be done in 
such a way as they know and they wait for it.

'Ready, boy/' I asked and preparing myself before the fixed eyes of 
the two slaves, one above the boy's pulled back head and exposed 
throat, the other standing back, I finally began the quick stroke 
that is necessary. With the first cut the boy ejaculated and the 
white thickness of his sperm shot into the air as I felt the knife 
cutting through the skin and the thickness of the cords until 
suddenly his balls were loose in my hand. Despite the gag I could 
hear the boy's muffled scream of pain. His smooth thighs quivered 
and shook with shock.

I dumped the balls into the bowl and leaned over to the brazier 
pulling out an old knife whose blade glowed with heat. It was a 
simple matter to slowly move it along the wound, and those lips of 
open flesh held by the clamp. The smell of seared flesh assaulted my 
nose. The boy's body had broken out into a sweat. 

Then I wiped my hands. A glob of his semen had landed there and they 
were moist with blood. I rubbed both away with a rag. Finally I 
exhaled deeply. The boy was moaning and there were tears of pain 
about his eyes. I began to untie him. At first he tried to close his 
legs, but the pain there forced them open again. I had the two 
slaves support him into the next room where he lay down on the straw 
pallet with his slim legs still apart.

When I came in that afternoon with salt-water to wash his wound 
down, he refused to look at me. His wound still pained him and he 
flinched as I washed down that seared flap of skin. And so it was to 
be over the next few days. Soon he was standing up again, though 
slightly awkwardly as he attempted to keep this thighs from coming 
in contact with that area. Nature however took it's healing course. 
Normally then he would have gone straight to the quarters of the 
mistress but she had received a message from her sister who was near 
child-birth and she had gone to assist. When I consulted the master, 
he said to return the boy to his normal duties. Unthinkingly I did 
so.

However when a slave told me of the boy's shame when, for the first 
time he was forced to strip down at the bath before all those youths 
of his own age who had revered him as their leader, and to reveal 
his unmanned state, I took pity on the boy and brought him to my own 
quarters to occupy a servant's room off my own until such time as 
the mistress returned. 

It was there, a week later when I had come in during the heat of the 
day to have a sleep and I had ordered him to fetch a jar of water in 
order that I could rinse down my skin, that I felt a sudden desire 
for him. While I am perhaps over-fond of women, I have on occasions 
satisfied my desire between the legs of a willing boy. It was also 
his position as he had bent to pour the water into my washbowl, when 
his buttocks had strained against the cloth of his trousers. Perhaps 
it was also my awarenmess that there was now nothing there between 
them.

I called him to me. He came with the same sullen air of downcastness 
that had been his demeanor since I had gelded him. When he was in 
front of me I ordered him to strip down. He did so with reluctance, 
for now each time he did this he exposed his new balless state. When 
he was naked in front of me, I too undressed, my own prick hard up 
at the thought of what I was about to do. I could hear his indrawn 
breath as he saw my erection.

I put my hand on his nape and pushed him unwillingly towards my bed. 
Once there I pushed apart his thighs and stroked them upwards until 
I reached his soft prick and then I moved down and around until I 
fingered gently that now red scar where the scab had fallen off. His 
eyes were closed as he lay there submitting to my caresses. I then 
made him hold and stroke my prick. He did not wish to do so and at 
first his touch was as resentful as his demeanour but soon, as his 
hands remained there, I began to enjoy his stroke.

Then I made him crouch on all fours while I positioned myself behind 
him. Gazing at him from behind, seeing his revealed and waiting 
asshole and the absence of his balls beneath them somehow aroused me 
intensely. I lubricated that tight entrance to his hot interior 
slowly, ever widening it with more and more oil and one of two 
fingers. Finally, I raised myself up on my knees and slowly, with 
infinite care, began to force myself within him. He moaned and I 
could feel him push his legs further apart to ease the discomfort. 
Slowly, slowly I eased my prick-length into him, and once there 
rested for a moment before I began to fuck him. 

With each stroke he grunted and sounded out his voice. I put one 
hand around and held his soft prick and there I could feel again the 
strange absence of his balls. Holding his prick I could position him 
better and I bucked against his pale buttocks and thrust and heaved, 
in and out, until at last I felt the semen well up inside of me and 
spurt out into his hot interior. 

When I freed my prick from him, I could see the resentment still 
there but over the next few days as I repeated the act with him, he 
began to enjoy it as it was the only sexual act of which he was now 
capable. And it was with regret that I finally surrendered him to 
the women's quarters when the mistress returned. Even now I think of 
him, lying blondly sprawled on my bed, his legs wide apart, his limp 
prick hanging between them and only the small flap of skin remaining 
to show where he had lost that new manhood of which he had once been 
so proud, and me knowing that so soon he would be upon all fours 
before me where I could clearly see his gelded state beneath his 
parted buttocks and feel the great arousal this sight gave me.