Gangs, Balls, and Dinner

[This is another story in the “Gangs” series. Each story stands alone by itself, but all are related to one another. This is adult entertainment, out on fringe of sorts, and not to be confused with anything real].

Chris Harriman, the undisputed leader of the Scorpions, raised his glass and toasted Robert Bickman at the opposite end of the long table. Robert tried to smile, but he was nervous as hell, and as he glanced to his two friends seated on either side of the table he felt the chill run down his spine. The table was set with the finest silverware, and the crystal glasses were filled with a French Cabernet that was as fine a wine as he had ever tasted. Just off to the side of the table was a cooker, one of the little propane cookers that are used in the highest class restaurants to serve up special tableside entrees. The candles flickered, and the darkened room shimmered. In the back a string quartet played a melody, the live music quietly filling the room and bringing the ambiance to a heightened level. Everyone was dressed in tuxedos, with their bow ties oh-so-perfect, and above the waist anyway it just looked like a formal dinner for high class dignitaries. Still, there were differences, and it was the differences that brought the fear.

For one thing, Robert Bickman’s two friends were tied into their chairs, their wrists secured with leather restraints to the armrests and their legs spread, with straps to their ankles and also around their legs, just above their knees. They didn’t have any pants on, or any underwear either, although you couldn’t tell if you just looked at them sitting there. From behind or from across the room it would have been more obvious, but from where the two gang leaders were sitting it was impossible to tell. Still, from their expressions you could tell that while they set there in their fancy shirts and their bow ties they would have preferred to be anywhere else. Their eyes were wide with fear, their expressions begging really, and yet with the little ball gags stuffed in their mouths they couldn’t do much but mumble. Every once in a while they would struggle, and jerk in their seats, but their straps were attached firmly and it was clearly obvious that they weren’t going to be going anywhere.

Chris said “To Cooperation” and then raised his glass, and Robert Bickman raised his as well and repeated the words, even as his face flushed with fear. Their two glasses clinked gently, and they each sipped their wine. Robert was sweating, and things were not going well. Six months ago he was on top of the world, and his gang, the Ravens, had literally taken over the entire north end of the city. The battleground had been going on for six months, until his two lieutenants had disappeared two weeks ago. They had spearheaded his campaign, and were ruthless and had been instrumental to his success. Now, the Scorpions were fighting back, and the ensuing war was almost certainly going to be messy.

When the Scorpions had sent him word that he was being invited for dinner with their leader, he at first had refused, but things had turned for the worse lately and when his two lieutenants couldn’t be found he had decided to had to go. The Scorpion leader had promised him he would not be harmed, and while it might seem stupid for one gang leader to trust another, there was a certain honor among rivals and he was not afraid for himself. So, with his choices limited and the gang war looming, he had accepted. The invitation had said formal, and so the tux went without saying. The “BE ALONE” part was expected too, and so that had not really bothered him. But he had never expected to see his lieutenants, and seeing them here, at the same table, dressed for dinner but tied to their chairs and with their mouths gagged, just brought chills that ran down his spine. He was suddenly afraid, very afraid and it was clear that this meeting was not on an equal basis.

Chris spoke then: “You know...I really don’t want a war between us, and I think the city is big enough that we ought to be able to cooperate.”

He stared into his face, maintaining eye contact, not daring to blink. Robert Bickman raised his glass and sipped the wine, and then he said slowly: “Yes....I’m sure we could work out something. I don’t think we want a war either.”

Chris acknowledged his two guests for the first time: “Well, I was hoping you would feel that way. Your two cohorts here didn’t agree...and they have caused me a lot of problems in the last six months. Three of my own men are dead because of them, and two more are in the slammer. I need to know if they represent you, or not?”

Robert Bickman swallowed. God, he got right to the point didn’t he? What to say? He hesitated on the answer. His two men were his friends, and he liked them, and he was trying to think of some way to get them out of this. The young man on his left was just nineteen, yet he was enthusiastic and he had worked hard for the Ravens. He had done everything he had ever asked of him, and he was just a hot, headstrong teenager who did what he was told. He was ruthless too, and had worked his way up and had earned his spot. He was built too, with powerful muscles and a ripped stomach, and as he looked to him he thought of his girl and how hot she was. Yeah...he was a good kid.

The young man on his right was just twenty....he remembered his birthday and the party they had held. Yeah....he had bought the young man too whore for him to fuck that night, while the rest of them had laughed and laughed and urged him on. He was a great asset, and his dedication to the gang had been total. The boy was strong, and as he looked at him struggling in his chair now he couldn’t think of anything to say. God...what was going to happen to them?

“Ah.....well, they are both young you know. Young boys sometimes don’t think before they act...and I’m sure they would respond if I talked to them.”

Chris Harriman smiled. Well...I might possibly be in the mood to return them to you, perhaps, after we have eaten. Right now I think we will let them stay, so they can enjoy watching us eat as we work things out. Are you hungry?”

Robert Bickman looked at the leader of the Scorpions, and carefully thought of his answer. The beautiful table had only two place settings, even though there were four of them seated around it. He tried to make sense of that, but he didn’t have the information he needed. He decided to play carefully. Finally, he said “I’m honored to be your guest. What are we having for dinner anyway?”

Chris Harriman took another sip of wine, and then answered, “I thought perhaps we might start with an appetizer of beluga caviar and escargot, followed by a cream soup and a spinner salad. For the main course I hope you like sautéed oysters in olive oil with Italian blood sausage served over rice pilaf. Of course, we will have greens on the side fresh from the garden. For desert, I believe Charles has prepared an ice cream soufflé with what he calls a raspberry “desperation glaze.” I hope dinner sounds appetizing.”

Robert Bickman took another sip of wine. As he did so, one of the waiters, standing off to the side, came to the table, refilled his glass from the crystal decanter, and then stepped back out of the way. The two young men strapped in their chairs watched, helpless. After he set the glass down, he said “I love seafood. It is always good, especially when the oysters are fresh. Are my...ah...old friends invited to dine with us?”

Chris Harriman smiled, and then said “Well, these oysters don’t come from the sea, but as for being fresh, you will never taste any as fresh as these.” Then, looking to the two men strapped in their chairs, he said “As for your friends, of course...I wouldn’t think of letting them miss our meal.”

Robert’s face blanched white. God. No....oh GOD.... His mind raced...trying to think of something....what could he say? Suddenly his stomach turned, and he suddenly had the feeling that he wished he wasn’t here. Perhaps he had read the message wrong, but the bad feeling was getting worse, and his two lieutenants were listening with rapt attention. “Ah.....I’m not sure I’m in the mood for oysters.....perhaps if we untied my friends I might enjoy the meal more.” It was something, and he had to try.

Chris looked serious, and he leaned forward across the table. Locking eyes with the rival leader, he said these words: “Listen...either we cooperate or we don’t. If these two friends of yours are too important to you, then we have no business together. I need to know...and tonight I’m going to find out. The other day I was reading about a table, called a “fucking table”...are you familiar with it?”

The three men stared at him, and Robert slowly shook his head.

Chris continued: “Well...I liked the story, and so I had these special little chairs built...just so we could dine together tonight and share a meal with your friends. Right now your two friends here have nylon straps that are looped around their genitals; one around their cocks and one around their balls. The two little straps are each about one quarter of an inch wide, and they run down, between their legs, and after they pass through a tiny slit in the chair seat they are connected to a metal wheel, which is about six inches in diameter. The wheel in turn is geared to a motor, so when we plug in their chairs, the little motor turns the wheel which goes around and around and around, which in turn ratchets the straps tighter and tighter and tighter. I just love the chairs and I think it’s just wonderful your friends have agreed to sit in them during dinner.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Robert Bickman, still holding his wine glass, started to shake, and he had to set it down before he spilled it. The two men, tied in their chairs, looked down, between their legs, and suddenly they knew what the little yellow straps were that were looped around the base of their cocks and the top of their scrotums. They started jerking in their chairs, struggling, and yet there wasn’t anything they could do.

Chris Harriman’s smile grew into a grin. Then he picked up his wine glass and took another sip.

Robert Bickman’s face had gone white. “Please....I’m...I’m sure there is some other way.” Fumbling for words, he added: “The straps don’t seem.....that they would be very comfortable.”

Chris frowned, and then said “Listen...there are two paths to follow, and the choice is yours. One path leads to mutual cooperation and a friendship that may last for years between the Scorpions and the Ravens. The other leads to war, and if it’s a war you want I’ll bury you and take your territory. I swear to God I will. You alone hold the fate of the Ravens in your hands. So, tonight, you either stay for dinner, or you leave. The two young men at my table are my enemies, and if you endorse them, then we are through. In that case you can leave, and I’ll send them along to you in a few days a little worse off for their experience. If you choose instead to sit through this dinner, and enjoy it with me, then I’ll know we are friends, and I can count on you. In that case, you can take them home with you tonight, if you still want them. So, which will it be?”

There is something of honor between rivals, and Robert Bickman knew that his gang was doomed unless he could negotiate something. Besides, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help them....they had gotten themselves caught and so in a way their fate was already sealed. Still, if he stayed, perhaps he might talk his host into a reprieve later. While he liked his two men, he liked the gang more, and everyone was expendable if it helped the cause of the gang. Even though that was true, he decided to give it one more try.

“Isn’t there a way to show my cooperation without killing these two? They aren’t bad kids really, just stupid. They are young you know...and sometimes young men think with their cocks instead of their brain. I’m sure whatever they did wasn’t intentional.”

Chris Harriman laughed. Then he said “If you stay, I’m not going to kill them. You have my word on that. But when I’m done with them they might wish they were dead. Decide....I’m growing impatient and I’m hungry.”

Robert Bickman knew it was time. What were his choices? Leave...Stay. They were doomed anyway, and so he decided to stay. “I like Italian blood sausage, when it’s cooked right.”

Chris Harriman laughed. “Excellent. Let’s begin the meal then, shall we?” With that, he picked up his wine glass, and so did Robert Bickman. Clinking them together, they both smiled, and then set back and relaxed and sipped their wine.

There were several men then that came into the room, wearing white chef outfits, including the tall hats. Two younger teenagers came out, dressed as apprentice chefs, and they each went to the tied up men. There, they kneeled down, and then, grabbing the cocks of the men with no pants, they slowly began to jack them up and down. The men’s eyes went wide...staring then, at the younger teenagers who were milking them. Robert Bickman glanced over, at the fifteen or sixteen year old who was jacking his lieutenants cock. God. There wasn’t anything he could do, and so he sipped the wine and tried to ignore it.

The first two plates arrived, hot from the kitchen even while the two young men were being masturbated. The snails were brought out in a circular placement, the snails themselves being presented resting in the curved shells of the escargot. There were also delicate pieces of toasted bread, spread with garlic butter and a dab of steamed spinach, which were there to eat the snails on. Robert Bickman picked up one of the shells and pulled the cooked snail out and dropped it gently onto the toast....then, he carefully took the toast and slid it into his mouth. The taste almost overwhelmed him. God it was good! As he was enjoying his snails, and sipping on the fine wine, one of the chefs brought out another plate, this time with a crystal cup of beluga caviar topped on a bed of ice and seaweed. The seaweed was an odd color...sort of a light blond color mixed with a light brown color....and he wondered if the little chopped pieces of seaweed were actually kelp. It was a beautiful presentation.

He nodded his approval at the flavor, and he enjoyed the appetizer of snails and caviar. He had always wanted to try the finest of the Russian caviars, but at $400 an ounce it was a little too pricey for his tastes. But damn it was good! Perhaps this dinner was going to go alright after all. It sure was fantastic tasting so far. As he tasted another spoonful of the fresh caught fish eggs, he savored the saltiness. Still, he couldn’t forget his friends, and as he turned to them he watched his friends cocks as they were pushed up and down. He had to lean over to see them...if he just stayed seated you couldn’t tell anything was happening, except for the look on their faces as they felt their cocks being pumped. They were sitting there, being jerked off in their chairs....and if you only looked above the table you could never tell that below its level there were other boys holding them and pumping their pricks like jackhammers.

Chris Harriman savored his snack, watching his rival carefully, looking for reactions and savoring every minute. As Robert was going for his third spoon of caviar he stopped...his eyes focusing on the bed of chopped seaweed. Suddenly, he realized it wasn’t seaweed at all. No...as he looked at it he realized suddenly what it was.....once he saw it the shock registered and that’s when his cohort’s smile grew into a grin.

God....the brown and the blond seaweed was really hair....the pubic hair of his two lieutenants! He looked sideways then, and then he saw their bald mounds as his boys were being milked like cows. The boy to his left was as bald as a ten year old....smooth, his entire mound of pubic hair just missing, and now mixed with his friends, and piled up high like a bird’s nest to form a bed for the cup of caviar. God!

Just as that moment the nineteen year old opened his eyes wide, and then started grunting, and as they all turned their attention to him the boy began to pump out his wad. The boys balls just erupted then....and he pumped out his load like there was no tomorrow. He grunted, shook, and squirted...again and again and again. As he was being milked dry, the boy holding his dick was holding a bowl, to catch his load as he milked him dry. The boy came and came until he was totally spent, and even then the boy working his cock continued to milk it with an intensity that is hard to describe. Finally, he was done, and the tied up boy’s balls were empty. Then, dropping the boy’s spent cock, the younger male that had jacked him off just handed the bowl of his semen over to his friend on the other side of the table.

There the other boy was working the other Raven’s cock up and down, like a piston, and the boy whose cock was being jacked was watching unable to do anything about it. Up and down the teenager’s hand was flying, working the young man’s cock with a furry. His eyes went wide, and he threw his head back, and then after that he too was squirting into the bowl. Again and again and again he squirted, emptying his balls like a hose from a facet.

For Robert Bickman, there wasn’t anything he could do except to keep sipping on the wine and enjoying the caviar. Still, he kept his eyes to his friends, and he was watching when the last boy finished his ejaculation. Then, one of the chefs picked up the big bowl of cream, and without any hesitation, he took the bowl with the two boys’ hot spunk in it and poured it into a pan which he then dropped onto the burner. All told, it was about one eight of a cup, if that. Sitting on a tray in a bed of ice was another glass bowl, identical to the one they had just used. It was totally full, and the chef poured the matching bowl of semen into the pan and added it to the load of spunk that had just been collected. Finally, the frying pan was almost half full. As Robert Bickman watched in horror, Chris Harriman explained what was happening.

“Your two boys have been cooperating since they were captured, and have been willingly giving us their cream on a daily basis. They’ve been milked four times a day, and tonight we will enjoy the fruits of their youth. I hope you trust me and will enjoy the soup. It’s a delightful flavor and a Scorpion specialty.”

Suddenly you could hear it sizzling, and as it was simmering on the burner one of the chefs dropped in some parsley, butter, salt, pepper, and a twist of lemon. He stirred the thick semen soup, and added a few garlic cloves, a bay leaf, and a few pieces of cooked potatoes and a dash of whole whipping cream. The smell of the soup seemed to permeate the room, and it actually smelled wonderful. Finally, steaming hot, the chefs poured the pan out, sideways, into two fine china bowls and served them, one in front of each of the gang leaders.

Robert Bickman tried not to gag. God....sperm soup! He fought the nausea, and pretended not to let any of this look like it bothered him. Then, he spoke and said: “Ah....this...this soup is a different idea.”

Chris Harriman laughed, and savored the soup with a huge slurrrrrrrrrp. Then he said “Yes. Try it.......it’s very good, no?”

Robert looked at him, and sipped some wine. Finally, he got up the nerve, and then, as his two friends watched him with their wide open eyes, he sipped it up and savored a spoonful. It actually wasn’t too bad, and if you hadn’t known what you were sipping, you would have thought it was good. The butter and seasonings really peaked the flavor, and swallowing another big spoonful Robert Bickman smiled. Still, it was hard to get what it was out of his mind. “Ah....well, it has an interesting flavor. I’ve never had anything quite like it before. Yes....you are right...it is pretty good actually.”

Chris answered, “Well, its an acquired taste. I find the cream from the younger males, like these two, is so much sweater than from someone older....say, like you.” As he said that, he looked at his rival...and the threat was there...hanging in the air. Before Robert had time to think of a response, Chris continued: “Yeah...younger boys have sweet cream, and it makes an excellent soup and the young boys have plenty of it. The stock is easy to get and because they recover so fast you usually can get them to give you enough in only a few days. The key is to use fresh semen, and if you get it from young males you won’t have to add water to thin it out.”

As they were sipping on the hot soup, waiting for it to cool some, a beautiful dinner salad was brought out from the kitchen. It was really pretty, made with various salad greens, including Romain, Endive, and Radicchio. The black, green, and Spanish olives were interspersed throughout the salad, along with small corn cobs, the hearts of artichoke, feta cheese and pieces of fresh cooked bacon. The bright red perfectly vine-ripened tomatoes set off the color. It was a gorgeous salad.

As the salad was being brought out, two men in white chefs outfits came out as well...and they immediately went to the two young men on each side of the Raven leader. The two men each held a stainless steal skewer in their hands, and they just came forward, to the table, and went up to the young men that were strapped to their chairs. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they went straight to their task. They reached down, to the boys that were tied in place, and grabbed the still dwindling erections of the two boys who had just shot their wads.

Robert Bickman tried to watch, and looked to his right at the older male. The chefs were in the way, and so it was impossible to see what was being done to him, but it was obvious from his struggles that it wasn’t all together pleasant. The boy jerked, thrusted up and down in his chair...and screamed into the gag that filled his mouth. The cook concentrated, holding the lads penis in one hand and the greased metal rod in the other. He pushed the rod up against the boys piss slit, and then, with a gently twisting motion, he pushed the slippery and very thin piece of steel down into the young cock....sliding it down and down and down...until it went almost into the young man’s bladder.

There was a small green mark on the rod, and when he got to that point he stopped. The rods were hollow, and once they had been inserted, the tied up boys cocks were skewered like shish-ka-bobs on a BBQ. The cooks seemed to enjoy their task, and as they worked the rods into place they worked the boys cock up and down...sliding the rod in and out as they worked their cocks. They kept it going, fucking the two cocks with the rods....sliding their cocks up and down as the rod moved in and out like a miniature piston. The boys were going ballistic...squirming as they fought the feeling...their virgin cock slits penetrated for the first time like their own cocks had once first penetrated a pussy. They bucked their hips, jerked against their restraints, and yet they were powerless to stop what was being done to them. Finally, slowly, their cocks grew hard again, and as they filled with blood and once again became engorged, their pricks were stiff and hard and jutting upward from their groins.

It didn’t’ take long to get the steel rods buried to the hilt inside the cocks of the two tied up guests. The older boy had a slightly thicker cock, but like his teenage cohort it was circumcised and the big end was flared and eager. The two cooks worked the pair of cocks up and down, up and down....just slowly pumping them until the teenagers who owned them were once again as hard as two pieces of steel. With their cocks stuffed with the rods, the cooks stepped back and then nodded to the leader of the Scorpions that it was done.

Robert Bickman tried not to gag. He concentrated on the salad, and tried not to think of his two friends with their cocks impaled by the steel rods. No, he didn’t even want to look at them. He was trying to keep it together, but when he glanced to his left and saw the young teenager bucking his hips and thrusting his dick with the end of the little metal rod sticking out the end, he almost vomited. He closed his eyes, and opened them, the sweat just suddenly consuming him. With his lip quivering, he remarked: “The salad is good....perhaps we should just end the meal with the salad and skip the entrée?”

Chris Harriman laughed. “Yes...it’s a good salad. I call it a spinner salad...because as we enjoy it I am reminded to put things in motion. It’s important that you understand what I am about to tell you, because it will require your decision if we are to proceed with dinner.”

Concentrating now, Robert Bickman looked up, listening to ever word of his rival.

“It is time to prepare the main course. The two young men who have been such a problem for me will be a part of our dinner experience. However, they will need a little help to get started. You see, I already told you about the nylon straps that encircle their scrotums and their penises. If you plug in the chairs they are seated on, the motor will be activated and the straps will tighten while we enjoy our salad. The little wheel underneath each chair will spin round and round and round, like a merry-go round, and as it does it will tighten the yellow straps tighter and tighter. After a few minutes the straps will grow so tight that they will literally be pulled right through the sexual organs of your old friends....and once that has occurred my chefs can finish cooking our meals. All I really need for you to do is to plug in the chairs.”

Robert Bickman’s face had gone white. The nineteen year old was ballistic...shaking his head from side to side and jerking hard on his restraints trying to find a way out. There was nothing he could do, and his cock jutted up, eager even, the metal rod sticking out and bouncing to his heartbeat. Robert then spoke: “Ah....I would think...that....if...if you cut their pricks off with a nylon strap that they will bleed to death as its happening. I don’t like blood........why don’t we just........

SLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Chris Harriman slammed his fist into the table, and the wine glasses rattled and the entire table shook. He was angry, and it was painted across his face. “CUT THE CRAP......I’M GONNA TAKE THEIR BALLS, AND THEIR COCKS.....AND ITS GONNA HAPPEN NOW. NOBODY FUCKS WITH THE SCORPIONS...NOBODY. THESE TWO ARE DONE. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WORK WITH ME, THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”

Robert Bickman cringed...but tried to stay calm. There was a lot more at stake here than two scrotums and a couple of cocks. “I’m sorry.....I didn’t mean to offend you.....it’s..uh....I don’t know...this is all new for me, and well, I’m not trying to cause a problem. I just didn’t want a lot of blood squirting everywhere...it would spoil our beautiful dinner.”

Chris set back...and stared at him a long time. The two gang leaders locked eyes...staring at each other, and the moment hung thick in the air. Finally, he slowly cracked a smile, and picked up his wine glass and emptied it. Immediately, one of the waiters filled it back up. “Ahhhh, well, perhaps its a good thought. However, the strap doesn’t cut its way through....it just pulls its way through the flesh....crushing everything underneath of it. It pinches off the blood vessels as it is pulled through them. There is virtually no blood....none, and it will all be done in less than ten minutes. It’s not exactly a painless way to lose your cock and balls, but at least you don’t bleed to death. The straps stay in place against the body, and we have men who can take care of that later. I’m getting hungry, and I’d like to enjoy the spinner salad, so if you don’t mind, I’m sure the two boys here would very much appreciate it if you could activate their seats and start to unman them. I think they are tired of waiting.”

With that, one of the waiters brought out a silver tray, that held a box with a power switch on it. He carried it carefully, and the extension cord the box was attached to ran under the table to a jack in the floor. He set the switch on the table, next to the leader of the Ravens. As he did so, Chris Harriman said: “Be my guest...please....it’s important that it be you that turns on the motors that will take their sex.”

Robert Bickman was shaking...and his two men were staring at him as he reached for the switch. They were screaming into their gags....jerking hard on their restraints and trying desperately to pull their legs together and to get loose from the chair. The younger boy was trying to rock in his seat...perhaps to turn it over so he would fall out. It was a useless gesture, as the chairs were bolted to the floor.

Robert Bickman looked up to the two men he had once held in high esteem and who he had trusted with the running of the gang. For a second he thought of asking for painkillers....anything for his friends to ease what was going to be done to them. But he knew it was a worthless thought, and their pain was obviously a planned part of it all. God. Well, what the hell? He didn’t see a lot of choice here, and so he flipped the switch and as he did so a gently whirring sound could be heard from under the tables.

Both men jerked....they could feel the loops of nylon almost immediately as they began to follow the wheel and ratchet themselves closed. They both looked down then...staring, as the little loops began to grow tighter and tighter and tighter.

The younger of the two began bucking his hips, just screaming into his gag as he fought the chair. The twenty year old stared down, between his legs, watching the yellow straps getting tighter and tighter. The one around his cock seemed to just be crushing its way right into the base of his organ...and as it was tightening like a noose it trapped the blood in his boner. His prick bulged, larger than it had ever been, the erection just growing and growing as it filled with his blood. He jerked, spasmed, and twisted in the chair, all the while his cock throbbed and the pressure increased by the second.

While this was happening, Chris Harriman was enjoying his salad. He passed the crystal bowl of salad dressing down to his rival, who took it into his shaking hand and, without another thought, just unthinkingly poured it over his salad. As the white cream sauce poured over the lettuce, suddenly Robert had the thought that it might be made from jism. He felt a fush of bile in his throat, and fought to keep it down. Then, as he tasted it he realize he was correct, although with the cheese and the other spices in it it was still very good. Excellent even. He tried to look straight ahead, and not think of the misery of his two men that were struggling like madman tied to their chairs.

The nineteen year old was ballistic, and as he looked down and watched the strap squeezing through his balls he screamed into his gag....then, bucking his hips up and down and up and down he literally started to fuck the air with his skewered cock. Up and down...screaming....his eyes wide with fear and his desperation impossible to describe. He jerked sideways in his seat, and his hands opened and closed as he fought the feeling in his balls. The pain began to grow....and he threw his head back. Could this really be happening? He jerked again....bucked his hips up and down against his restraints, and his thigh muscles were going into tetanus as he struggled to close them.

The two leaders finished up their cream soup and the waiters diligently carried their empty bowls away. Robert and Chris had both cleaned them dry, partly perhaps to prove a point as much as anything had to do with the flavor. Robert was shaking, but he stealed himself to maintain his resolve. Ignoring the gyrations of his two friends strapped to their chairs, he said “The soup was excellent, and this spinner salad is one of the best salads I’ve ever had. I especially like the dressing.”

Chris smiled, and raised his wine glass. Then, he grinned. “Oh...I’m so glad....yes...I like the “creamofguy” dressing myself.” Then he laughed, and Robert joined in, the made up name of the dressing bringing them both to tears.

In contrast, the two young men being castrated were going ballistic...the pain was starting to overwhelm them now, as the little nylon straps got tighter and tighter and tighter. The young teenager was bucking his hips like a wild man...although seated in his chair with his tuxedo shirt the only visible thing to the two men watching him was that his body was jerking side to side. He threw his head back, then looked down again, at the strap and the impression in was making on his scrotum. God his balls had grown....the two orbs just bulged out, the skin of his sac thin and tight, trapping his balls below the nylon which was growing literally into a single point. He jerked his hips again....bucked in a desperate primal move, but it was all a useless gesture. He screamed now, from the pain as much as from the fear, and as the noose tightened even more his eyes went wide with the misery that his balls had now become.

Likewise, the twenty year old was screaming, watching the ninteeen year old across from him buck and twist from the same feelings. God...it was hopeless....and his balls hurt and his cock hurt and he jerked and twisted and screamed and nobody cared! OH GOD...please stop he mumbled....but the pain just grew and grew and then grew some more.

The nylon grew ever smaller. Slowly, very slowly, it was literally being pulled down, into his scrotum, and through the top, his balls bulging out in their sac and looking eager to be free of their owner. His bald cock was stiff and eager, and the end of his cock was flared, purple, and the metal tube out the end glistened like an obscene eye. He jerked, bucked his hips, and fought the pain that his genitals had become.

Chris said “More wine Robert?”

“Yes...it is excellent. You have excellent tastes Chris.”

Chris snapped his fingers, and a new bottle was brought to the table. It was smooth, without any bite, and as it was poured into two new crystal goblets both men savored the excellence of the fluid.

“ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG”

“UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“OMGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD”

The two boys were screaming constantly now........their mumbles indiscernible but loud in their gags nevertheless. The string quartet picked up the volume slightly, trying hard to maintain the ambiance of the room. The two boys were wild and desperate, just two miserable males, and as they felt their own emasculations proceeding they screamed and struggled and fought with everything they had. They were only a few feet away from two men who were sitting there, savoring the finest wine and nibbling on a superb salad, laughing together as they ignored the two who were at the same time being unmanned. The contrast was stark, obvious, and devastating.

The chefs were standing by the two now, waiting, eagerly, as a cook waits in the butcher shop for the meat to be delivered. One of the cooks reached down, to the nineteen year old, and gently put his hand on the bulging cock....sliding his fist up and down the shaft and gently pulling it upward. At the cocks base it was just pushed into a point....crushed at the base until the nylon was just squeezing the flesh between the strap and the steal rod that impaled the cock.

The nineteen year old’s eyes suddenly jerked opened...and then with a grunt he started ejaculating one more time. His load flew up, and started to just pump out through the metal rod and right down the outside of his bald cock....flowing like a hose up from the ground. He oozed it out in a big load....his balls pumping their last load in big pulsations that racked his body. The chef never skipped a beat, and he just reached over and just ran his hand up the outside of the boy’s cock.....dragging the semen up and letting it drip off of his hand and into a glass bowl he was holding just for that purpose. He obviously wanted it for something. The boys last load was light and watery, with a tinge of pink in it that had come from the trama in his genitals. The chef grabbed the boys cock one more time....to get the last few drops that were still oozing out the tip, when all of a sudden the teenager gasp and as he did his cock just came free.

There was a mark on the rod, just at the exit point of his body, and with a sideways jerk the chef just snapped it off there, leaving a little tiny tube of metal sticking out of the half inch stub that was once the base of boy’s dick. Then, he lifted the steal rod with the boy’s cock still skewered and held it free from his body. The boy saw it...saw his cock, that was no longer his....and as it came free of his body he screamed and screamed and screamed. His balls separated almost simultaneously...and just dropped onto the chair he was sitting on. He bucked his hips, and thrust his sexless groin into the air, fucking it with nothing to fuck it with.....and then he was just humping and humping in a useless gesture. That lasted about a minute, before he fell back, defeated, unmanned and with all hope gone forevermore.

At the same time the twenty year old was approaching the end of being a man and he knew it. Likewise, one of the chefs reached down to him, and felt his cock and then his hand went to his balls. As he fondled him, the boy erupted...his last wad just shooting out from deep within him one last time. He grunted into his gag and felt it for the last time...and his entire body shuddered as he came and came and came. He squirted out a big load of watery semen...tinged slightly pink as well, which the chef added to the bowl like a treasure.

He jerked the air then.....his spent cock still quivering, as the pain racked his body and consumed his being. He felt the chef holding his balls...tickling them...feeling them and cupping his bulging scrotum and he fought and jerked and struggled. He bucked his hips, and the man held his balls....just cupping them...ticking them. OH GOD THEY HURT SO BAD. Suddenly, the pain just ended.....instantly, and then all of a sudden he couldn’t feel the man tickling his balls anymore. The feeling was gone...GONE...and as he looked down he realize that his balls were gone as well....the chef was holding them like a package, and as he looked at them he noticed his twin orbs were still quivering inside of his sac. They were the chefs now, and no longer his.

He screamed then, as he felt the chef grip his shaft, and then, as he bucked his hips up and down he felt his cock just come free.....and after that he watched as it was painlessly just pulled right up the rod. The chef didn’t pull if off however, and instead he jerked the rod sideways and it snapped of at the little indentation that was made for that purpose. Then, he held the cock up, on the end of the skewer, a perfect cock that was sealed shut, fully erect and the end oozing with desire as if it was still alive. OH GOD... unmanned... neutered..... a nothing! He looked down at his bald crotch, and there was nothing to see. His cock was gone...his balls were gone.....and everything that had defined him as a man was no more. Only the tiniest bit of the tube was sticking out the little hole where his cock had been. Oh GOD....his eyes rolled back in his head, and he feinted.

Chris watched as his master chefs went to a little cart and began to prepare the mountain oysters. The shaved scrotums were huge....the sacs from the boys filled with the balls of the pair. There was almost a pound of testicles ready to be fried. The chef filleted open the two scrotums like an expert, and squeezed out the twin testicles inside. The fresh balls themselves were quivering, pulsating even, as if they were still alive. Perhaps they were. The chef trimmed them, and then he filleted them in half because of their large size. Next he rolled them in flour, seasoned with Italian bread crumbs, and then, when he was satisfied they were ready, he dropped them in the hot olive oil that had been sizzling on the burner. He also tossed in a few garlic cloves, along with some chopped green onions and a cut red pepper. The oil sizzled, and the wonderful smell of the frying balls permeated the room.

At the same time, another chef was preparing the two cocks....they were washed thoroughly, and then they were coated with a mixture of olive oil and seasonings. Then, the chef turned on the second burner to the little griddle, and dropped the two skewered sausages onto the grill where they started to cook. The chef adjusted the flames, and then began to rotate the two sausages as the flames danced under them. As they popped and sizzled and browned on the grill and the wonderful smell in the room grew even more delightful.

The nineteen year old was watching...watching his cock cooking on the grill and his balls being fried. He was whimpering then, as he watched his manhood being cooked....and he smelled the smell of his genitals and it made him want to gag. There was nothing he could do, but watch, the look of longing as he watched it happen. He just stared, as the tears flowed down his face, and the pain in his empty groin radiated his loss.

Soon, the meal was served. It was a beautiful presentation...the oysters served on a bed of fresh turnip greens and the skewered sausages resting atop the wild rice pilaf. There were fresh cooked carrots to add color, and a round, hot cherry tomato among the fried ‘oysters.’ Chris smiled, and savored the flavor. Robert moved the rice with his fork, and then, finally, he took his knife and cut off a piece and for the first time in his life he was eating a man’s cock. God it was good! Next, he pushed his fork into one of the tender testicles, and brought it up to his mouth. It smelled good, and he didn’t hesitate. As Chris watched him carefully, he tasted it, rolling the split ball with his tongue and enjoying the flavor. Oh it was just so sweet it was hard to describe. Robert was surprised at how tasty it was, and as he savored the balls of his friends and chewed their manhood he couldn’t help but enjoy the experience.

As for the two boys who had donated their manhood for the meal, the experience was anything but enjoyable. Luckily, the older boy was still out of it...mercifully sleeping through the entire dinner experience. The teenager though was wide awake, watching everything and still struggling with the horror that the dinner had become. He was whimpering, feeling his loss, and longingly watching as his balls were consumed. At one point Chris looked to the boy who was watching him.....watching him chew one of his balls. The two locked eyes with each other...and then as Chris looked at the boy and chewed, he suddenly winked and then smiled as he swallowed. God it was good.

The grilled pricks were surprisingly flavorful. They were a distant second compared to the tender balls, and yet they were about as good as any sausage either of them had ever tasted. The seasonings were perfect, and they were firm and fine and perfectly cooked. The cocks were big too, and being erect when cooked, they had filled the pan and were more than a meal in themselves. Within a few minutes both of the men were stuffed. Still, they worked on their meal, savoring every morsel, and enjoying the wine. It was a perfect meal and as they shared it together the two gang leaders slowly grew closer and made their plans for the future.

The last course was the desert, served with fresh ground Panamanian coffee. The ice cream soufflé was excellent, but what made it especially great was the “desperation glaze” that was poured over the top. It was made from the thin pinkish cream of the two boys’ last ejaculations, just before they were unmanned, and when mixed with fresh raspberries from the garden and raw cane sugar it was sweeter and lighter than any of the other cream sauces of the evening. Chris and Robert sipped on their coffee, and enjoyed their dessert as new friends, discussing the future of their gangs and making plans for the ventures that would follow. The desert was excellent, and was a fitting end to a great meal. It topped off what had become a perfect evening and the beginning of a new friendship that would last for years to come.

[Authors note: © Copyright November, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.]