Sacrificing the King

By Rob Cole

Tony's uneasiness grew as he stood with Rory against the wall near the front of the roomful of mostly silent men and waited. Rory had told him only that something "interesting" was going to happen and now wouldn't talk to him at all. The other men spoke to each other only briefly and in low voices.

Only the low raised platform at one end of the large, bare warehouse room was directly lighted-–by a row of small floodlights on one of the exposed steel trusses supporting the high ceiling, and the crowd's leather trappings looked sinister in the shadows, an effect only made more bizarre by the fact that many of the men wore only boots and open leather vests or harnesses which exposed genitals done up in ways he'd heard about or seen photos of, but never seen in the flesh. The air in the room was close and musky with sex and tense with expectancy. Tony caught a whiff of pot.

One of the guys with exposed genitals, standing a few feet away, had a bicycle padlock apparently piercing his not quite erect sausage-–not just the skin, but the shaft itself--just behind the head.

Another, a striking young blond, naked except for boots, with close-cropped hair and a heavy gold chain padlocked around his neck, had both large testicles pulled up and fastened somehow on either side of a thick 8- or 9-inch cock rearing up in an erection which he wouldn't have thought anybody could sustain indefinitely untouched, even with Viagra. But the guy was just standing there chatting idly with a couple of other guys, hands clasped loosely behind his lean buttocks. Moreover, the flaring glans had a little fluted gold cap over the piss slit. There were matching caps at the outside of each testicle and over both nipples. His whole body below his neck was hairless, and he had the initials "H.M." tattooed in an elaborate, colorful design on his right shoulder.

The balls, however, were what fascinated Tony the most and made his own weiner stiffen. They almost had to be fastened to the cockshaft by a pin run all the way through both of them and through the penis in the middle, secured with the gold caps on each end.

Rory noticed his attention on the guy.

"Master Hal's slave fido," he said in Tony's ear. "He's famous. The cock's filled with silicone or something so it's permanently erect, with the urethra closed off. He doesn't need to piss through it because he's got a new piss hole in his crotch. Cost Hal a fortune, they say, and he did it just to have a beautiful boy to show off. He's got another slave for sex."

"Oh." Tony considered this. "So, uh, fido, can't get off," he guessed.

"Right." Rory made an amused sound. "That's the way Hal wanted it. The cockhead's desensitized and even the nipples are capped off. And just to make it more interesting, there's supposed to be some sort of implant in the cock that keeps him turned on."

"So he's always hard with no way to cum. Pretty rough on fido."

Rory snorted. "A peacock has nothing on him. Hal needs to take him down a peg."

Tony shook his head in amazement. He had read about such things, but he'd thought it was all fiction. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder what fido wore when he was out in public? How did you cover up something like that?

Thinking of that made him even more aware of his own erection. He realized that his dick had gotten out of his briefs and was poking down the leg of his 501's, and he felt himself flushing in embarrassment. It didn't help to be aware that his embarrassment was ridiculous under the circumstances. If he pulled his cock out and let it stick up, it was obvious that nobody would even notice. If he took off both the jeans and his tee shirt, probably nobody would notice.

After a few minutes, there was a stir at the back of the room, where one of the doors was, and Tony craned his neck to see what was happening. The men in the center of the room were pressing back to make an aisle, and after a moment three men came down this toward the stage. The men in front and behind wore black leather hoods covering the upper parts of their faces, in which only their eyes were visible, metal-studded leather jockstraps, boots, and upper body harnesses. Their bodies were lean and hard.

The man in the middle was naked except for black leather boots and an open black leather vest displaying run emblems down the sides and a club insignia, a stylized human head with stag antlers, on the back. All his pubic hair had been removed. He was probably early 30's, handsome, straight-backed, beautifully proportioned with long muscular legs, narrow hips and a washboard stomach. An outsized cock stood almost straight up against his taut stomach muscles, with his bulky testicles drawn up against it. A thin line of light brown hairs ran up the front of his body from just above where his pubic hair had been to his chest, where it fanned out. He had prominent nipples pierced by small padlocks, a large P.A. ring in the head of his penis and some sort of tattoo on one firm ass cheek. He strode purposefully toward the platform, face tense but otherwise expressionless, a glint of sweat on his forehead.

As the third man passed him, Tony noticed that his jockstrap was bulged out and then did a double take when he realized that the metal studs were turned inward to gouge into the genitals. Jesus! The studs on other leather jockstraps he'd seen right-side-out had points sharp enough that he was sure they'd pierce skin, yet the guy obviously had an erection that would press his dick hard against them.

A recorded drumroll began as the three men mounted the platform and arrayed themselves with the naked man in the middle. He took up a military-like posture facing the crowd, putting his hands behind his back, planting his feet wide apart and thrusting his dick and balls aggressively forward, and stared straight ahead. His expression was detached, but the lights glinted on sweat on his forehead and chest, though the room wasn't that warm. The other two stood more casually facing him from each side. The man on the left had a small bright metal star on the forehead of his hood.

The drumroll ended and was replaced with muted male voices chanting unintelligibly over what sounded like a flute. This continued throughout the ceremony.

The hooded man on the right, the one with the jockstrap spikes turned inward, took a microphone from a stand and spoke into it.

"David, as the outgoing president of the Stags, are you prepared to sacrifice your male organs to begin the first of our annual sharing ceremonies?"

He held the mike to the lips of the naked man, who replied firmly in a light baritone voice."I am prepared. Let the ceremony begin."

Oh, man! Tony thought to himself. How hokey can you get?

"That's Manuel, the incoming president," Rory said in his ear. "The other is the Hierophant, Jim Kurtney."

In the glare of the lights, a drop of pre-cum glinted on the tip of David's penis. Tony stared at the erect cock in fascination. The flaring helmet-like head was a dark rosy color, the heavy P.A. bright stainless steel. The shaft was a good nine inches long, smooth, fairly thick. The tightly contracted scrotum was rosy, fresh-looking. As Tony stared, the cock twitched slightly as if it were close to ejaculation.

Without further preamble, the man on the left, the Hierophant? stepped forward and took hold of the outgoing club president's nuts. He had some sort of tool like a pair of pliers in his other hand. There was a low murmur from the crowd as he pulled and yanked the balls down and back between David's muscular legs, stretching the scrotum and pulling the skin of the cock drum tight. The cock was so stiff that it moved only a little in response. David said something sotto voce without turning his head and the guy's hand froze. After a moment, David's lips moved in an "Okay" barely picked up by the mike, which had been replaced on its stand. The hooded man immediately gave the sac a half twist and slipped the jaws of the tool over it.

Tony stared, hardly believing what was apparently about to happen. David stared calmly straight ahead.

Probably stoned to the gills, Tony thought. Most of the crowd was probably high, too. What had he gotten himself into?

The Hierophant squeezed the tool, released the balls. To Tony's surprise, they were still attached. However, though he was too far away to be sure, there appeared to be a thin metal ring, or wire, clamped tightly around the scrotum just at the cock, compressing it to pencil thickness.

Now the man on the right, Manuel, stepped up again, and sure enough, he had a curved-bladed knife in his hand. He took hold of the nuts, and David's prick jerked and shuddered. David said something which Tony couldn't hear, and Manuel froze. Tony realized that David had been about to cum each time and he'd warned his castrators to hold off until he could scotch what would otherwise have been his last ejaculation ever.

Then the knife flashed and Manuel was holding the testicles up for the crowd to see. Tony felt a jolt like an electric shock in his crotch, and figured he must have cum in his jeans. David just stood there, cock still sticking up. A grimace had gone over his face when his balls came off but otherwise he hadn't moved except for flinching slightly. There was a murmur of approval from the crowd. "Way to go, Dave," a guy near Tony said.

Tony became aware of a hand moving over the bulge down the leg of his jeans. He glanced at the young, leather-clad man next to him, but the guy didn't look at him; neither did he withdraw his hand. Tony scotched his impulse to object. In this crowd, he'd be the odd man out. He let the guy squeeze his peter. He was more interested, anyway, in what was happening on the platform. What else did this weird ceremony involve?

The Hierophant picked up a small butcher-block table standing to one side and moved it to center stage. The incoming president now handed David his own severed testicles and the knife. David put the knife down on the table and fiddled with the nuts-–oh, yeah, he was trying to get them out of the bag. Presently he succeeded, pulling out one grayish-pink ovoid on an untidy tangle of cord, then the other. Leaving the balls on the table, he dangled the empty scrotum in front of him, smiling slightly for the first time. His cock was still standing straight up.

Again, the incoming president, Manuel, spoke into the mike: "Sharing ceremony participants are reminded of the rule. Any brother, or guest, who catches any part of the sacrificial organs is expected to remove that same part of his own organs to share with another brother. If he doesn't have the matching part to contribute, he may do so by proxy. He may keep or give away the sacrificial item itself. A table will be set up in the courtyard after the ceremony with instruments for the purpose. Remember, this is a sharing ceremony, and your brothers will know what you received."

David raised his ball sac higher, glancing over the crowd as hands went up.

"I don't believe this," Tony muttered. "Does that mean if somebody hands me a scrotum, I have to cut mine off?"

"No, only the guy who actually catches David's sac has to," Rory said impatiently.

David tossed the scrotum out toward the middle of the room. There was a small scramble and laughter as the man who caught the sac held it up.

"Okay, so the guy who caught it has to take off his own scrotum; what does he do about his balls?" he asked Rory, not really expecting an answer.

Rory did answer, though, sounding amused again. "Whatever he wants."

The hand on Tony's prick had moved up to the fly of his jeans, which it was now methodically unbuttoning. Tony was too bemused to stop it. It usually embarrassed him to be handled in public, but right now it didn't seem to matter. He stared as David carefully trimmed the sperm cords from his testicles and tossed the cords, one after the other, into the crowd. Then he threw out the testicles themselves. Each time, there was a scramble. Tony craned his neck, but couldn't see what followed. The way David was doing it meant that four men would have to slit their own ball sacs and cut off at least one ball.

Tony's dick, floppy from his ejaculation but starting to stiffen again, was being prised out of his jeans, then his sweaty balls, as the pouch of his briefs was maneuvered aside. By now, the guy had moved around in front of him. Tony couldn't see his face clearly in the gloom, and the guy didn't make any attempt at eye contact. Tony had become aware that other guys around him who had pants on were either taking them off or getting the same treatment. So he didn't interfere. He was mildly surprised when the guy did nothing but feel the wetness of his cockhead, grunt, jerk his nuts back and forth a few times, then turn away. He was now erect again and fully exposed.

"You're supposed to take them off," Rory said. For a panicked instant, Tony thought he meant his balls, then realized it was the jeans Rory meant. Rory was pulling down his own jeans, which would leave him wearing boots and open vest.

What the hell, his cock and balls were already out. Following Rory's example, he tugged his jeans and briefs down together, pulled and yanked them over his sneakers, and stepped out of them, then was briefly nonplussed. What to do with them?

He was standing with only his black tee shirt on, holding his jeans in his right hand as he looked around for some place to put them, when something moist and squirmy was pressed into his left. He knew immediately what it was. The only question was whether it was David's scrotum or the guy's who'd caught it, who hadn't waited to go outside.

Activity was also resuming on the stage.

David had turned to the butcher-block table, pressing his body forward into it, and was forcing his erect dick down flat on its surface with the thumb of his left hand, so it was in plain view of the audience. The table was just the right height. As the Heirophant stood watching, arms folded, the other hooded man, Manuel, moved in on David's right with a different knife, something like an electric carving knife. He placed this carefully with the business edge just behind the flaring lip of David's cockhead. David pressed harder against the table edge, moving his thumb back to the hilt of his remaining male organ to expose it fully to the knife. There was a buzzing noise barely audible over the growing noise in the room. The hooded man cut unhurriedly through the cockshaft and nudged the acorn aside, P.A. and all. There was almost no blood. This time, David clenched his jaw and his face screwed up in pain, but he kept pressing into the table and his hand holding down his doomed penis was steady.

Tony watched, riveted. His clothes slipped from his right hand, forgotten, though his fingers continued to convulsively clutch the bag of empty skin in his left. He was distantly aware that his own dick had softened again as a barrage of conflicting feelings hit him-–astonishment, dismay, fear, excitement.

Manuel carefully re-positioned the knife an inch or so back on the cockshaft and glanced up at David. The latter nodded slightly and grimaced again as another piece came off. Taking a deep breath he released what was left of his penis and backed off from the table a bit. The organ was sagging now, its truncated end bloody. David didn't look at it. He picked up the acorn by the P.A. and tossed it out, the steel ring glinting as it sailed up and then down into a forest of reaching hands. The second piece of cock followed.

David now spread his feet further apart and put his hands back behind his butt, presenting what was left of his male tool to his successor. The latter took it, pulled it out, and placed the knife carefully right at the base to get all he could of it. Again, he said something to David, got a slight nod, and quickly sliced it off, angling back into the crotch. This time, instead of grimacing in pain, David sucked in his stomach, threw back his head, and let out his breath in a long, "Ahhhhhhhhh," that sounded more ecstatic than agonized. This time, his successor tossed the last section of penis, with the clamped nub of skin where the testicles had been, to the crowd.

Tony's head was swimming, his thoughts in turmoil, his heart hammering in his chest, dick rigid again. The thought came that he had just witnessed something sacred. He was not a religious man, and the idea surprised him. Something was in his hand. Oh, yeah, the scrotum. Suddenly it was the center of his attention. The feel and texture of the skin was very familiar, still warm from being handled by other men, unmistakably a male ball sac, but at the same time something magical, something wondrous. He should do something with it. What? He couldn't think clearly. Someone's hand closed on his, tugging gently at the magical thing he was holding. At the same time, another hand grasped Tony's balls, twisting and yanking. Tony's penis, which had somehow gotten painfully hard again, ejaculated explosively. He grabbed for it and found another hand already on it. He let the scrotum in his left hand go.

Dimly, he heard one of the men on stage say something about the main part of the ceremony being over, followed by a storm of applause and cheering, and cries of, "Yea, David!" He roused enough to see David, legs spread and empty, bloody crotch thrust forward, spread his arms wide, his handsome face glowing as he drank in his brothers' appreciation of his sacrifice.

"The courtyard is now open," the Heirophant announced. "Remember, men, whatever you received from David must be matched piece-for-piece and it or its equivalent shared with a brother."

"Come on," said Rory. "Let's go out and watch the fun."

Tony was coming out of his daze but he was still giddy from what he'd just seen and felt. He watched Manuel hug David in a tight embrace, then let Rory lead him toward the doors.

"You knew all about this."

"Sure. I told you, I'm an associate member of the Stags." He twisted to show the emblem on the back of his vest.

"And you're not concerned about being, uh, pruned?"

Rory grinned. "Like I said, unless you catch one of the organ pieces he tosses out, you don't have to do anything. Come on, we can talk outside."

This last because they were being jostled by other men pressing toward a set of double doors.

"Like this? Outside?" Tony had no idea what had happened to his pants. He was totally naked, his big, uncircumcised prick arcing out half hard with the head exposed and wet with cum, his balls dangling between his legs. He noticed that Rory's dick was standing up hard, his balls hanging down slightly anyway. He also noticed for the first time that Rory was wearing a key on a light cord around his neck.

"Sure. Don't worry, there's a high fence."

Tony looked at Rory's naked body, his gaze lingering briefly on the erection, and down at his own. His cock was stiffening again.

"How are we gonna get back to the car?"

Rory shrugged. "We'll find a couple of pairs of pants, our own or somebody else's. That's why I had you leave your wallet in the car. I've got the key here." He touched the key, then reached out and tugged at Tony's tee shirt. "Take this off, too."

"Well, okay." Somehow, he was feeling less self-conscious. Thinking about actually having to walk out to the car naked almost made him giggle. An hour ago, it would have made him panicky.

Outside the double doors was a bricked area maybe 80 feet square, with blank building walls on three sides and a 10-foot board fence on what had to be the street side. It was floodlit under the overcast night sky, brighter than the room they'd just left, and fairly warm for San Francisco in August. In a far corner against the fence was a scruffy tree and in the nearer outside corner, a lighted firepit. A gas-fired BBQ grill stood against the wall of the building they'd just exited. A husky man, balding man wearing only a white apron and a chef's hat was engaged in firing it up. There were a couple of tables with ominous looking implements, one of them on the other side of the door and another across the way at which several naked men were already lined up, facing away from Tony and Rory. The area was swarming with mostly naked young male bodies and warming up steadily. Disco music started up just as they came out.

Rory stopped him at the nearer table and picked up a large, black, metal ball attached to a leather thong with an open slipknot at the free end.

"Here, let's have a little fun." With a hand on one shoulder, he turned Tony to face him and grasped his testicles. "Hold still a sec."

Tony let him slip the leather loop over his nuts and jerk it tight. Then without warning, Rory simply dropped the weight.

Tony yelped involuntarily and grabbed at the weight. It felt like the thing had nearly pulled his balls off.

"Jesus, this thing must weigh at least 25 or 30 pounds. What is it, solid lead?"

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that heavy."

"It still hurts."

"This will fix that. Pull 'em up out of the way."

"Hey, that's a hypo gun."

"Yep. Essential for serious boy games."

Tony realized how David had taken his gelding as well as he had. He grinned and let Rory pop him in the crotch. The shot stung, but a warm numbness almost instantly began to spread through his crotch and into his penis and balls. After a moment, he cautiously eased the weight down and let it hang. Getting into it, he moved his hips to make the weight swing back and forth.

"It'll ruin ‘em if it stays on very long, it's so heavy."

Rory shrugged. "Who cares? I almost caught one of David's testicles. If I had, I'd have whacked both of these off and roasted 'em."

He brushed his balls with his fingertips.

Tony stared at him. "You're serious."

"Yup."

"But you like jerking off and playing around. You sure liked fucking me last night."

Rory grinned. "Sure did. But think about it. You haven't done everything you can do with balls until you cut 'em off."

He pulled out his testicles. "I mean, look at these things. They're practically made for the knife."

Tony laughed uneasily. His cock was pulling up against the weight on his purpling nuts, sticking stiffly out and down.

"How about the cock? Would you cut that off, too?"

Rory shrugged. "I dunno." He slid his fingertips lightly up and down his rigid shaft, looking thoughtful.

"Um." Tony changed the subject. "What happens to David now?"

Rory gave him an appraising look. "Well, you've seen the first part of the ceremony. If I didn't think you could keep your mouth shut, I wouldn't have brought you. You're not to repeat a word of what I'm telling you."

Tony nodded. "Okay."

"He'll be roasted whole and served at the banquet on the next run."

Tony stared at him, his stomach knotting and the back of his neck going cold as this information sank in. His lips moved, but he couldn't find any words to say. His legs suddenly felt weak.

Rory didn't seem to notice.

"The Stags follow the ancient ritual of sacrificing the king when his year in office is up. First his manhood, as you just saw, then the rest of him."

"Like a pig," Tony said inanly. He took a deep breath.

"What?"

"Roasted whole, like a pig,"

"Uh, right."

"Do you bash in the back of his head first?"

"If he wants. It's very civilized."

"Civilized." Tony tasted the word.

His initial shock was fading and the skin of his whole body was starting to feel flushed.

He looked around at the crowd. He was facing toward the firepit and his gaze rested on a naked young man who had just plopped himself down on a wooden bench by the firepit. He was holding a roasting fork with a pair of testicles, obviously not his, hanging from the tines. He held the testicles over the flames and proceeded to jerk off slowly.

Tony had almost forgotten about the far table. He glanced around at it just in time to see one of the last of the guys in line turn away from it. His cock had been neatly detached and he was holding it up by the glans, staring at it, his other hand gripping his still attached balls. As Tony watched, he handed the severed cock to another man who had apparently been waiting for him, his own penis arcing out half hard. They both headed toward the firepit.

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "I'd think you'd have a hard time keeping members, at least intact ones."

"Yeah, a lot drop out after they get, uh, pruned. But not all. And we've always got applicants."

"And presidents?"

"Guys campaign hard for the job." He grinned. "One of the things they campaign on is the size of their dicks. You saw how big David's was."

Tony shook his head again, dazed. "What about David. How do you get him to the run? Bound and gagged in the trunk of somebody's car?"

"Hell no, man!" Rory sounded offended. "Come on! He'll help plan the thing and then ride up with Manuel, the new president. Everybody in the club who's got the equipment will fuck him the night before, just as he probably spent last night fucking. In the morning on the run, he'll be flushed out and given a tequila enema. Then he'll be bashed in the head, if that's what he wants, and spitted ass to mouth, with his arms bound to his sides and his legs bound to the spit with wire. Then he'll turn slowly over the coals all day and be served at the banquet in the evening."

He licked his lips and grinned wickedly. "I got a piece of Serge's rump which I'd fucked the night before. Delicious."

Tony snorted, again at a loss for words. He glanced back at the firepit. The two guys with the detached penis sat down across from the guy roasting the nuts and the recipient of the penis stuck it on a fork. He stroked the length of it with his fingertips a couple of times like he was jerking it off, and said something that made the other two laugh, then stuck it over the fire.

Tony took a deep breath. Somehow, he was accepting what Rory had just told him and his earlier excitement was returning. The weight on his scrotum was starting to hurt; otherwise he couldn't feel his nuts at all. He glanced down at his rigid prick and noted that his balls had turned dark purple. But it didn't seem to matter.

"You said he'll be bashed in the head he wants to be. Does anybody ever chose to be roasted alive?"

"Yeah, our last president, Serge, did. But he had so much alcohol in him that I don't think he was feeling much pain. He had a bunch of guys handling him, stroking him as he was spitted, and he just moaned a little almost like he was being fucked. Then he squirmed for awhile over the coals."

"I'd think being impaled like that would kill him immediately."

"No, since he wanted to go over the coals alive, they were careful to avoid his heart, so he'd live at least a few minutes."

"Oh." Casting around for something to say, he asked, "And the new president always castrates the outgoing one?"

"Right."

The air was redolent with the smell of sweaty male bodies, cum, grass, and roasting meat. Somewhere far off a siren shrilled in the night, counterpointing the disco beat. Nobody seemed to notice. Tony wondered if these affairs had ever been raided. Guess not, since they were still going on.

Two guys nearby were engaged in a kind of dance which involved tossing back and forth a big pair of nuts which had apparently come from one of them. The ball-less one was laughing, his heavy turgid dick swaying around as he moved gracefully with the music.

Tony glanced at the grill, where hamburger (?) patties were now cooking. The cook looked at Tony's weighted balls and smiled, raising an eyebrow. He flicked his apron aside showing a completely bare and hairless crotch, not even a scar visible at this distance, and nodded toward the grill. Tony was past shock. He smiled back.

He caught Rory's gaze and reached for his balls. Rory thrust his hips forward, smiling. The scrotum was hairless, and felt dry, warm and smooth in Tony's fingers. He pulled the testicles down, stretching the skin of Rory's erection, squeezed, and rolled the balls against each other as hard as he could. Rory gasped with pain and squirmed, but didn't try to pull away. Tony moved in closer and his rigid cock brushed the base of Rory's, poked wetly into his bare body and slid aside across his groin. Tony humped his hips, swinging the weight on his balls back and forth between both their legs.

"Trade you," he heard himself say.

Rory's reply was barely audible over the pounding music. "Roast ‘em in the sac with a little A-1?"

"Yup."

Rory grinned widely, showing his teeth. "You're on."

"Then I want to go on that run."

Rory nodded, his gaze still locked on Tony's. "I think it can be arranged."