Ayzintion City—The Castrated Cutter

He was staring right at me, into my soul even, and I could sense his hatred. I had put him there of course, on the table, and it was my vote that had broken the tie and doomed his balls. Perhaps I was wrong, who knows? But he was a cutter, and had let his license be misused, and the law was clear. If a cutter lost his license for malpractice, then he lost his balls. It was a simple rule. Still, in all the history of the city I could not recall any cutter being castrated, and as I looked at him I wondered if he really deserved it.

No matter. As one of the Council of Seven I had called it like I saw it, and he had been operating on the fringe for so long I had little sympathy for him. His huge sac of balls was already tied, and Joshua was at the grinding wheel working his knife against the stone. I had wanted to use Carlos, as he has the experience and I knew it had to be done right, but he had simply refused to do another cutter and so we had had to look elsewhere. Half the council had wanted the Tricutter, and she was still the cheapest of the cutters. I just hadn’t seen it as an option. She toys with the slaves before she unmans them, and I didn’t think the other cutters would allow that to be done to him.

So, in the end Joshua had been the only real choice. He was professional enough, and he was fast, and most of us just wanted to get it done and get it over with. The young cutter was good too, and his results would match anyone’s in the city. Yes, it was a good choice, and the fact that the man on the table was a cutter himself instead of a slave didn’t seem to matter. Besides, Joshua’s price was right.

I stared at the man. In his mid forties, he was jerking against his bonds that held him down, his fat legs spread and his package exposed and waiting. His thick prick was pointing upward towards his face, laying on his belly. Occasionally the end of it would bob up and down about a half inch into the air. He had a thick matt of pubic hair, with some graying hair mixed into it, and his root seemed to jutt out of it thick and eager, the big circumcised end almost purple.

The old cutter had big balls, and constrained by the leather tie they were bulging, the thin skin of his scrotum stretched so tight that the twin orbs were clearly visible, ready and waiting, the outline of them clear and unmistakable. There was a line of hair that ran from his root all the way up his belly, and as he struggled I could sense his fear and his eyes were wide and desperate. Of course, he knew exactly what was going to happen, and perhaps that explained the intensity of his fear. He had taken his share of balls in his lifetime, at least until he had taken in the woman and given her an apprenticeship that ultimately had been his doom.

The blond woman was there now, in the front row. That surprised me, as she had been his undoing and for some reason I had not expected her to be here. The only real thing he had done wrong was to let her take control, but he was the owner of the license and he was responsible how it was used. The woman had crossed the line with the boy, and so in the end she had doomed the man with the license. OF course, all of the time he had been there too, even if he was not exactly at her side, and so if he himself had not done the deed he had at least sanctioned it. For me, and the other three on the council, it had been enough to order his unmanning.

Take his license and castrate him. That had been my vote, and it had been the right choice. In the days before the cutters were licensed we had lost many slaves, and the reputation of the city had been at stake. Now, with the training and the licensing the death rates had fallen to near zero, and business was booming. The licensing had been the key, and it worked. The rule was simple. If you cut a slave without a license, it would cost you your own balls. Needless to say, the licensed cutters were in great demand and nobody dared to cut a slave without hiring one.

I looked at her. She was a hot number, even now, but I could tell in her own prime she had been more than just beautiful. She was grinning, the big beautiful grin wide, and her ruby red lips almost glowing in the afternoon sun. If it was not for her he would not be laying here now, with his balls tied and the knife being sharpened. I noticed that he would not look at her, and I wondered.

I looked at her though and my prick stirred. As I stared I thought about the things she had done. She had been cutting slaves under his license for almost six years, and with time she had grown bolder and her reputation has grown as well. She would never have passed the exam, and so instead she had just worked under him, carrying her apprenticeship year after year and using his license to make them both a lot of money. It had been a money venture from the beginning, and he had been in on it and had gained from it. The pair had operated on the edge of the city, near the red light district, and it was there in the midst of the whores and the games she had done her cutting. Still, it had all been legal, although only by the slimmest of margins.

Of course, she had never just cut them. Instead, she always put on a show, as she cut them, and the man who was being castrated now could have stopped it at any time. But he had never wanted to stop her. It was the shows that had made the money, and the money had driven the shows and they in turn had driven the cuttings. It was a cycle of sorts, and it had made them both rich. But I wondered how many slaves had lost their balls to make it happen. Yes, he could have stopped her at any time. But he didn’t, and instead he collected the money and let her do them, one after the other, collecting the money as she took the scrotums of the slaves they bought one by one.

Normally, the slave yards operated in an organized manner. On market days they were filled with people, buying and selling. The cutters made their money when the owners needed their purchases fixed, their new slaves balls taken for a price. Usually, it was because the new slave was wanted in the house, to work with the women of the owner’s family. Sometimes the new owner wanted the slave for the bedroom, and sometimes the slave was needed to set an example to the others. Sometimes a slave’s balls were taken to help control them. Sometimes they were even castrated as a gift for someone else. Whatever the reason, the slave owners ordered it to be done and it was done and after it was over the money was paid to the cutter. But there was always a reason behind it.

For her, and the man on the table, it had been different. For them, the patrons that came to them and paid their money could care less about the slaves that were castrated. They weren’t the owners for one thing. In fact, most of the patrons that came to the shows didn’t even have enough money to purchase a slave themselves. Instead, the man and woman bought the boys themselves, becoming slave owners as well as their own slave’s nut cutters. Then, they would sell tickets to the shows where they took their slaves’ balls. The money they took in more than paid for the slaves they bought.

Unlike the market cuttings that were public affairs, and free, the man and woman’s shows were expensive and extravagant. But the woman and the man found out that by making a show of it that there were lots of men and sometimes even a few women who would pay good money just to watch. Over the years their reputation had grown, and their establishment was always crowded.

It all made me sick. It was sport cutting, plain and simple, and afterwards, after she had taken the balls and had her fun, the couple had sold the castrated slaves back to the market. Usually, they made money on the transaction, and afterwards they would buy more slaves to cut. A vicious cycle, the buying and the cutting and the selling back, the show running every night and the place packed with patrons eager to watch. Their dingy theater was always full. Mostly, the transients and the ship workers came and yelled and made their bets. Still, it was all legal. The men being castrated were slaves, and so their balls could be taken even without a reason and that was that. Over the years the fat man and the blond woman had made a lot of money doing just that.

But she had crossed the line with the young boy and that had been their undoing. The boy was one of those street urchins, one of hundreds that were always around. Some of them had mothers and fathers that let them run wild, but most were orphans. They were always present in the square, and they would love to watch the nuttings and were probably as much a part of the scene as any other part of the city. It was good for them to watch, as it kept them in check.

Usually they would watch and hold their pants and grimace when the slaves being cut would grunt and lose their balls. Sometimes when I was down at the square watching a castration I would watch the urchins instead, and it always was fun to see their reactions when the balls were being severed and the slaves were struggling like madmen. Afterwards, the boys would quickly hurry off, the look on their faces hard to describe. I think it probably gave a few of them nightmares, and yet they were always there at every cutting. Sometimes their high pitched voices could be heard as they screamed with the crowd, but usually that watched quietly and with a fear that only a boy can understand as he watches the unmanning of another. Sometimes the cutter would hold up the knife and threaten one of them, and when that happened the boys would scatter like roaches. It was always in jest, for it is strictly illegal to castrate anyone who is not a slave or a prisoner.

I knew the old man knew the rules and his show wasn’t designed for youngsters to see. Still, the boy had somehow snuck into her show, and while he had seen a lot of slaves being castrated in the square the youngster had never seen anything like what they did that night. I figured he had probably heard the rumors, and being curious the way all boys are he no doubt had schemed hard to figure a way in. He wasn’t the first to get in, and no doubt he would not have been the last if the shows had continued. Still, the lad was only thirteen, young and eager and innocent, and his unkempt hair and ratty clothes were typical of the group and they should have recognized him. Allowing him to see the show was bad enough, but the woman had done a lot more than that. A hell of a lot more.

I looked at her and thought back to that last show. I had not seen it myself of course, but because of what had happened and because of the investigation I had heard every detail. The place had been packed, and the expensive beer was flowing like water. I had already known they had always purchased the hottest looking slaves for their shows and on this particular night it had not been any different. The first young man she did was young and blond and physically perfect. God. He had had bright blue eyes, that almost shone, and his muscles rippled as he struggled. When the curtains opened he was tied onto a rack on the stage, facing the crowd. He was on his back, his legs spread out wide and open, and his back was raised up so that he was half sitting, facing the crowd. He had been young, seventeen, and his hard body was perfect and eager. When the curtains had opened his prick was already stiff and hard, jutting up between his legs and pointed at the crowd. It had jutted from a small, tight mound of trimmed pubic hair, and the boy’s blond bush had accentuated his youth. Someone had coated him with baby oil, and he glistened in the stage lights and the crowd had gone crazy when they had seen him.

The music had started then, and the crowd had roared. It was loud and provocative, and as much a part of the show as any of it I guess. She had come onto the stage then, with the music, wearing nothing but thin lacy underpants and a lace bra, and her huge tits had bounced to the crowd’s delight. I heard that her partner, the man with the license, was outside, taking the money. I guess he had seen it all before. In her hands she had held a small box. Her painted bright red lips were thick, and she was licking them as she ran her hands over the boy’s body. He had stiffened further, and had begged her to let him go, testing his bonds and jerking against the restraints. She had kissed him on his cheeks, leaving her wet lipstick visible. Then, slowly, she had brought the little box to his face, and then with a big smile at the crowd she had opened it right in front of him. Inside was a human scrotum, the balls trapped inside by a double tie of leather. As he had looked at it he had screamed and she had roared out her laugh. I was told that the fear in the boy’s eyes was something so intense then that all that were there would never forget it. As he stared at them, she had slipped the tie around his face and just as he started to scream out his protests she had pushed the severed ball sac into his mouth. The expression on his face after that was one of pure panic. With the balls of another slave stuffing his mouth, she had used the long ends of the tie to secure them in place.

I heard that he struggled then, jerking against the bonds with a desperation that was intense. After that, the youth could only sit silently, his wide eyes open in fear and his mouth stuffed with the balls of another boy that had once been her toy.

She had gone to his prick next, and started playing with it, toying with it. Up and down his shaft she had worked her hands...the oil soaked organ eager and glistening. She had bent over then, wiggling her ass in the boy’s face, and with her legs spread she had just slowly backed upward, facing the crowd, until she had straddled the boy. The two of them were facing the crowd then, the boy tied seated, his arms spread out to the sides. He was staring right at her ass, and the tight lines of her panties disappearing up her crack. The woman had bent over, and had opened her big red lips and slowly slid them around the eager teenage cock that was jutting up from between his legs. He grunted into the balls in his mouth, and jerked and spasmed as he fought the ropes that held him. As he struggled, his cock jutted, and his hips thrust up literally driving his young pole into her parted lips. She had smiled...and then worked them up and down, over his shaft as she played with his balls.

The crowd loved every minute of it. The youth’s eyes were wide, as she sucked his shaft, licking it and tasting it and pumping it with a vengeance. Sometime as she sucked him she had reached down between his legs and slipped the leather tie around his sac. As she had jerked the knot closed he had grunted into the balls in his mouth, literally biting them as he screamed. She double tied the leather, so that the teenager’s own sac was tied liked the one between his teeth. He had struggled harder then, his hips pumping and his cock pistoning in and out of her big mouth as he struggled. While he struggled she slipped the knife from its sheath and held it up, against his balls. She never stopped sucking....working his shaft as she held the knife and prepared to take his manhood.

Sometime during this the little urchin had called out “Suck it woman...suck it OFF!”

She had ignored the boy in the crowd, or at least tried to, but he taunted her with his cries as he watched it all. Still, she worked the teenage cock, up and down, her lipstick smearing the cock skin as she kissed it and sucked it. The teenager felt the feeling, rising within him, feeling the knife and knowing his balls were tied for the purpose just so she could take them. The crowd was crazy, eager even, and as they chanted the feeling grew within him in rising levels of intensity. The teenage slave had never felt a woman, never seen one this undressed and this close to his face, and as he stared at her wiggling ass and smelled her sex suddenly his balls exploded and he began to ejaculate.

He grunted, biting down on the balls in his mouth, and his semen boiled up and out and he shot his own wad into her waiting mouth. She never stopped sucking, instead she worked him harder, literally sucking him dry. Still, as she swallowed his load and worked his cock, she began to move her hand back and forth and the knife started to slice into his sac. He bit down harder then, the soft balls in his mouth the only thing that kept him from biting his tongue in half. He jerked, screamed into the balls that were gagging him, as he grunted out his load and felt the pain overwhelm him.

It seemed to last forever, to go on and on as he squirted out his semen and she drank his nectar. She worked the knife faster then, timed to the pulsations within his scrotum, and as she got her last tiny bit of his semen she finished the cut and his balls, still tied in a bundle, came free.

The piercing voice of the little urchin was loud and obnoxious, and he cackled as he laughed at the slave’s unmanning. He was calling her names, between his bouts of laughter, and there were several people in the room that told him to “quiet down” and to “hush up.” If only he would have listened.

The curtain had closed, and a ten-minute break had ensued. There was more expensive beer and lots of wild laughter, and then before long the curtain parted once again and the second slave of the night was on display. This lad was from the eastern province, with dark hair, and he too had been stripped naked and was stretched out for the crowd. At eighteen he had the perfect body of the developing adolescent, hard and strong with jet black hair and piercing, deep brown eyes that seemed to look into your soul. His stomach was flat and ripped with horizontal lines, and every muscle of his body rippled.

This boy was tied upside down, with his legs tied apart to the ceiling and his cock pointed at his own face. He too had been oiled, and it accentuated his perfect body which glistened in the light. He was positioned so that his shoulders were on the stage floor and his neck was bent upward, so that he was staring at the ceiling and at his own genitals. The teenager’s prick was hard and thick, pointed along his belly at the floor and his face. Someone had shaved off his pubic hair making him look younger than he was. Still, the thickness of his prick and the length of his boner gave his age away.

The woman was laughing, still dressed in her thin panties and lace bra, and she was standing behind the boy running her hands up and down his tied, open legs. Her lips had a new coat of red paint, and they were glistening in the light. The boy’s head was tied down to the stage floor by a leather strap, over his forehead, so he couldn’t move it. The woman held up a shiny copper funnel for the crowd to see, and then, as they all watched, she positioned it so that it was in the youth’s mouth, the funnel running upwards towards his waist. With a belt she secured it there, so that it was just under the head of his cock, like a bowl, there to catch anything that might escape and take it to his mouth that was held open by the long funnel tube.

The crowd was crazy, and once again the shrill voice of the little street urchin could be heard taunting her. He was in the front row, near the stage, and he kept saying “Cut him bitch...that’s it...take his balls bitch.”

I was told she had tried to ignore him, as she began to play with the slave. She worked her hands up and down his young and powerful legs, sliding her hands up and down them and playing with the youth’s soft hairs that covered them. Slowly, she leaned forward and planted a kiss right on his scrotum....leaving the big marks of her ruby red lips on the front of the sac. The boys prick seemed to stiffen more, almost as if it was eager, and with his hands tied behind his pack he couldn’t do anything but stare.

She pulled out the leather tie then, and looped it over his balls she had just painted with lipstick. The two ends hung down, loose, the knot only partially closed and his big balls hanging downward, above his prick that was pointed at the funnel. Next, from behind the youth she reached down and came up with a long, thick cock. It wasn’t exactly a real cock, but it had been made from one. The skin of a severed cock had been stretched over a carved wooden dowel, so that the stuffed cock was mounted, stiff and eager and permanently hard. The end of the dick was big and purple, and the crowd roared when they saw it. As they all watched, the woman smeared some grease over the shaft of it, and then flipped it over, so that it was pointing downward, pushed down against the boys’ hole that was upside down and waiting.

When the teenager felt it you could see his expression change. He struggled to keep his hole shut, but she pushed harder and the greased cock slowly pushed past his ring of muscle, disappearing inch by inch inside of him. She pushed it all the way in, until the stuffed cock head was up against the boy’s prostate gland. He grunted into the funnel as he felt it, and his eyes went wide from the intensity of it. She laughed then, and after that she grabbed the leather ends and snapped them closed, bulging up the boys balls. She double tied it, like she always did, and then took his prick in her hands then, and without a word, she began to stroke him with one hand as she pushed the cock dildo that was inside of him in and out and in and out.

His eyes were wide, as he felt and watched her working his meat and felt the severed cock from some other boy penetrating his ass. Up and down her hands worked his shaft, fingering the skin of his cock and sliding it up and down and up and down. Likewise the cock in his ass was being pistoned in and out. ON and on she went...and a small, thin line of drool began to string from his cock and disappear into the waiting funnel. He struggled harder, his eyes growing wider as he began to taste the essence of his own manhood that was drooling from his prick.

The kid in the front row laughed and taunted. He was really into it, and why they did not throw him out I cannot understand. But no one did, and instead the boy watched the joy and his taunts became louder and louder and even more objectionable. “Fuck him bitch. Fuck his ass and take his balls.”

It didn’t take long. Suddenly, the upside down youth shuddered, and long thick ropes of semen flooded out of his cock, literally jetting into the copper funnel and running down the tube into his own throat. He gagged, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he began to drink his final load of spunk. As he started to shoot, she pushed the stuffed cock she had been working deep into his ass, all the way in until it popped past the ring of muscle and lodged inside, his ass swallowing the entire cock of some former slave. At the same time, she took the knife, and grabbing his balls she started working it under the sac, back and forth between the two ties of leather.

The teenager screamed into the funnel even as he swallowed his own load, feeling his balls being severed even as they were pumping out his last wad. It took him most of a minute to shoot himself dry, and she timed it perfectly so that as his last bit of semen pumped from his shaft the last piece of skin separated and his scrotum came free.

The crowd was ballistic, screaming out their excitement, as the curtains closed once again and the castrated slave collapsed into his bonds. Just as they closed the young little urchin’s voice pieced the noise, and he said “Good job bitch!”

I shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. Joshua had finished with the knife, and was approaching the tied up cutter. He hefted the man’s bound scrotum, feeling for his stones, and as I watched he checked the knots in the leather. The crowd was huge. I think the city came out in droves, and the crowd goes out the door of the cutting room and the bleachers are overflowing. The Tricutter has come, as has Carlos, and as I look around I notice that most of the city’s cutters are here to watch it be done.

The crowd itself seems different. Perhaps they sensed history being made. Perhaps. The thirteen year old is here, and there is no pleasure on his face. Still, he is here, and perhaps him seeing the justice being carried out will help him in the future. He’s still a good looking youth, and his body is still strong and the loss of his balls has not taken his muscle tone yet. Still, it’s happening, and the sprouting adolescence of his body is dimensioning and soon it will be gone altogether. Such a pity. Yes, the man deserves this, and as I see Joshua holding his balls and preparing to take them, whatever doubts I had are gone and now I am glad for it and even anxious for it to happen.

As I stare at the young kid I let my mind wonder again back to the last night, the last show where she took them from him. I might understand her anger and her frustration, but all she had to do was throw him out. Why she didn’t I will never know.

I’ve since learned that their normal plan was to cut three slaves at every show. It was the number that allowed them to maximize their profits....if they had cut less fewer patrons would show up and if they had cut more it would have cost more without increasing the take. From what I have learned the crowd was stoked after the second unmanning, and so when the Grande finale started they were ready and eager and excited.

Like a lot of shows, the big event started out with a drum roll. When the curtains parted the most perfect young man was stretched out on his back. He was tilted so that his head was slightly lower and facing the audience, allowing them a full view of his stretched out body and his raging cock. His head tilted and his back arched so he was staring at them, and there was a mirror over his body that made everything visible to the crowd. His legs were spread, tied out, and his oiled prick was jutting up and eager, the big round end already glistening with desire. Someone had worked it to a frenzy, the bead of semen visible on the tip, anointing it with the nectar of his manhood.

He had been shaved from the neck down, and his perfect body glistened. His hair was short, and the man was exactly twenty years old. Solid muscle, hard and perfect and tied out and totally exposed. His thighs strained against the ropes, and his flat chest and ripped abs stood out like a washboard.

The woman held a feather, and danced around him...running it along his chest, over his nipples as the music played. She worked the feather down, downward to his groin, and then soon she was tickling his shaft which bobbed up and down to the attention. He was as hard as a man can get, and his scrotum was huge. He had of course been picked for the size of his sac, among other things, and it was round and full and bulging, and as the crowd gazed upon it you could see that it excited them with a furry.

The woman dropped her bra, and her big perfect tits bounced up, help upwards by the firmness of them. The perfection of them was not lost on the tied up slave, and he had seen them and started his begging..... She had reached down, between his legs, and picked up a small box that was laying there. Running the box up and down her self, over her panties and then, up between the big breasts, soon she had every eye watching, including his.

When she opened the box the audience gasped. Inside was another bound up scrotum, but this one had the red marks of her lipstick and was obviously the warm sack of the second teenager she had just castrated. She pushed the still hot balls into the man’s mouth, and he gagged as he felt them filling him. She used the long thongs of the leather to tie it into place, and after that the man jerked and twitched as he fought the inevitable. With the recently castrated teenager’s balls filling his mouth, he couldn’t say anything yet from the intensity of his struggle it was obvious he was scared and desperate.

She smiled at the crowd then, rolling her hips and playing with the crowd by running her finger up and down the slit in her panties. Suddenly, as the music flared, she reached to the side and unsnapped them there, jerking them free and off and exposing her womanhood to everyone in the room. Her sex was hot and her small tight patch of pubic hair was cute. She danced sensuously around her man, and then stepped over him and straddled his face....lowering her sex onto his face. With her other hand she cupped his balls and squeezed, and then she said “Eat it”.

The slave struggled, and she squeezed harder, and then as the room watched he gave in and began to lick her sex with a desperation. His prick bounced and twitched as he licked her, tasting her, sucking in her juice and working her clit. The little thirteen year old in the first row started screaming in his cracking voice: “Oh YEAH...eat the bitch....yeah...make him eat you bitch.”

She tried to ignore his tants but they grew and grew and grew, and her anger started somewhere and it began to grow then. Suddenly, she moved backwards over the young man, and then just sat down, right on his raging erection, swallowing his manhood deep inside of her pussy with a single movement. He gasped and bit down on the balls in his mouth, trying to yell out then, trying to talk as he chewed on the recently castrated testicles and grunted out from the feeling as her pussy engulfed him.

At the same time she bound his balls...just jerked the leather ties hard and then looped them again and did it once more. The man bucked his hips as she did it, thrusting his cock deep into her pussy as he felt his nuts cinch closed. He was wild and struggling after that, jerking his arms against the bonds that secured him to the board he was tied to. She road him, up and down, up and down, literally fucking him in front of the crowd, holding the knife against his balls as she was doing it. The crowd was wild, and everyone was waiting for the Grande finale, the single moment when he would cum and she would steal his balls.

Suddenly, the intensity of the scene was shattered by the cracking voice of the little pubescent urchin, who started yelling out at the top of his lungs “FUCK HIM WHORE. FUCK HIM WHORE. FUCK HIM WHORE.”

Suddenly, she snapped. With a jerk she pulled the knife through the slave’s balls, even before he had ejaculated, and jumped off of him so fast it was hard to follow. The castrated slave was left screaming, biting hard into the balls in his mouth, still visible with the big red lipstick stain. The new eunuch jerked and spasmed and his head banged up and down as he fought the pain his genitals had become. His ball-less prick spurted a rope of cum even so, the shot so powerful that it flew upward and landed back on his belly. Several more shots followed, and the lines of semen slowly became together and formed a little puddle.

As the slave was ejaculating, she grabbed the taunting teenager, and with a single jerk she pulled him from the stands and onto the stage. He was suddenly struggling like a madman, but the crowd encouraged her, and she was so angry from his taunting that she reacted more than she thought it out. The boy was screaming and yelling at her, and that seemed to feed her anger even more: “LET ME GO! LET ME GO YOU WHORE! SHIT! LET ME GOOOOOOOO you WHORE!!!!!”

Suddenly, without thinking, to shut him up if nothing else, she shoved the hot scrotum she had just cut that was still pulsating in her hand directly into the boy’s yelling mouth. She stuffed it in, filling it completely with the bound balls of the man she had just emasculated. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he struggled but she held him fast, and looped the ties around his head effectively gagging the struggling youth.

“ARGUHEEHHHHHHHH” “YOGHKIIIIIIMMMMLLLL” “URG” “MTHRAOHGGHHHHHHH”

She had his hands tied then, behind his back, and the boy’s eyes bulged and he struggled with a desperation that turned the room into chaos. Everyone fed on it, on the beer and the music and the moment. There was no sympathy for the boy who had been bothering them all night, and so they began to clap and chant and she went with it after that.

“Nut him.” “Nut him.” “NUT HIM.” “NUT HIM!” “NUT HIM!” “NUTTT HIMMMM!!!”

She literally ripped off his clothes then, and she did it in seconds too. The thin t-shirt came off without any effort, and his dirty jeans didn’t’ take much longer. As she jerked his underwear off with a single pull, the boy’s thin little prick bounced free, stiff and eager, and above it was a small wisp of pubic hair that seemed to accentuate his youthfulness. Other than the little bush, there wasn’t a hair on his body.

Suddenly she yelled, “OK SMARTMOUTH...IF YOU CUM I’LL NUT YOU.”

The boy had never cum before, and he knew it. He knew he had tried, and he had rubbed his prick many a night but although it had always felt good nothing had ever escaped. Still, he was scared, and his eyes were wide with fear and embarrassment.

She didn’t know that of course. She sat right down on top of him, on his chest. He was stretched out on the stage, his feet facing the left side and his head to the right. She rode him that way, her weight crushing him and his bound hands underneath him. She reached over to the slave on the table, and grabbed a gob from the wad of his final load of spunk that pooled on his belly. Using it, she lubricated the teenager’s five inch prick, working in the load of cream with gusto. He was helpless, and then as she sat on him she took his little prick in between her thumb and two fingers, and began to work it up and down and up and down.

The boy felt it, all of it. He felt her moving his prick, felt her crushing weight on him, felt the slave’s balls filling his mouth. He tried to scream, to beg, so say he was sorry, but he could say nothing and try as he did he was unable to spit out the balls that were choking him.

She worked his cock, and never before had he felt anything like it. It sure felt a lot different than when he had jerked on it himself. Her fingers were soft and yet they held him firmly, sliding the skin up and down his shaft and with a speed and an intensity that meant business. He had stroked himself many times but nothing had ever happened, but he had never used any lubrication and he had never used three fingers. He was just totally unprepared for the intensity of what she was doing, and the feeling began to build unlike anything he had ever felt.

The woman didn’t know what the youth was feeling of course, and nothing seemed to happen even after many minutes had passed. Soon her arm was wearing out and she figured he was just too young to ejaculate. So, he could keep his balls. She decided to give up on him totally, and just leave the boy and end it all, and with that thought uppermost in her mind she finally just stopped playing with his prick.

The crowd booed....they wanted it to continue, and for a second the boy thought she was going to let him go. She hesitated, looking at him, holding his prick but no longer stroking it, the boy on the edge of something greater than anything he had ever known and her not knowing it. She looked down at his cute little cock, and that’s when she noticed the bead of precum oozing out of the boy’s young prick. She smiled, and used her thumb to spread it over the tip, working it into his shaft and lubricating everything with the boy’s own fluids. She figured she should be ready, just in case, and so she took a tie, and looped it around his balls. When she jerked closed the knot the teenager’s entire body shuddered, and he humped his hips in some primal movement that was unlearned and instinctual. She renewed the stroking of the youth’s cock after doing that, and as the skin slid up and down and up and down the boy began to get that feeling again that no male can truly ever describe and can never ever control.

This time her fingers felt better and better, and he tried to yell out but the balls in his mouth silenced him. The feeling grew, and the intensity of it all doubled and then doubled again. Suddenly, his body spasmed, and then for the first and last time in his life he began to ejaculate. He jerked, humped the air and pumped his young cock into her fist, the thin load of semen flying out of his dick like a well shooting water. He grunted, and bit down on the balls that stuffed his mouth, as his own balls pumped and pulsated and emptied themselves out the end of his teenage prick. True to her word, as she milked him like a cow and he shot his wad she took the knife and starting sawing it through his manhood. He bit down harder, the balls in his mouth bulging, and as he tasted them he lived the feeling of his own emasculation. Finally, the little urchin was done...milked dry, and castrated, and as it all finished at the same time he collapsed on the stage, laying their spent and exhausted and unmanned.

After that all hell had broken loose, and soon the couple had been arrested and after that things had just happened. Now the dingy little theater was closed down and boarded up, and their little business was over. I shook my head, and when I opened by eyes I realized I had missed it. Joshua had severed the cutter’s balls so fast it was over as soon as it began. The fat cutter was still jerking and his body continued to spasm, and I could see his balls were gone and that it had been done. I think I had expected something else. As I watched, his fat prick was pulsating and still pumping out his final wad. It just sort of oozed out and onto his belly the way it does sometimes. It was a thick wad, and a large one, and yet I could see from his eyes he was gaining no pleasure from it. Finally, with a few final and ever weakening pulsations, it was done, and after that it didn’t matter I guess and his role as a semen carrier in this world was over. Castrated. A eunuch. It had been the right thing to do and I was glad.

[Authors note: © Copyright September, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. Nathan9001@yahoo.com]