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Surrender
She was looking for someone exactly like me—I realize that now. A young guy in his early 20s, no roots, no relatives or friends he kept in touch with. It helped, I guess, that I was thin, not particularly muscular, and that I’m easy going—some might say passive. I was the youngest of three boys, the one who got to clean up the dog shit, sweep the floors, wash the dishes when it was my brothers’ turn because otherwise they’d kick my ass. I was the one forced to jerk them off. But I never sucked their cocks, even when they threatened to kick my ass. The idea made me want to puke. Because I wasn’t aggressive, even shy around girls, I was still a virgin when I met Liz. I mean, I beat off a lot, fantasizing about all the things I’d like to do with a woman, but that was it. If all I wanted was a blow job, I could have gotten that since eighth grade from half a dozen queer kids who fell in love with my eight-inch dick in the showers. But I wasn’t into guys. I’d had more than enough of that shit with my brothers. From that first night in the bar, the way she looked at me, intensely, almost like she owned me, I felt something completely new. It wasn’t lust—it was deeper than that, although lust was part of it. To be honest, I felt like I imagine a woman feels when she makes up her mind to let a man have her body. And when she said, “Come on home with me,” I couldn’t have said no for anything. It was inevitable, my destiny, just like cleaning up the dog shit and jerking my brothers off had been destiny, something I just had to do. She took charge that night, stripping, undressing me, telling me to lie back on the bed, close my eyes, and just let her play with me. She kept me on the brink of orgasm for three hours, making me breathe like a freight train. If I’d have had a weak heart, I’d have dropped dead right there. Three hours of mind-blowing, head-tossing pleasure. Then she climbed on me, sliding my cock into her dripping pussy, and slowly rocked the two of us to mind-blowing ecstasy. I came twice more that night. We seemed perfectly matched. Five weeks later, she told me we were getting married. We did, and moved to a small house in the woods. New to the area, I didn’t even have a job. She said it didn’t matter, she didn’t want me to work. I could do carpentry around the place, sweep the floors, cook meals. “I want you to be naked all the time, day and night,” she told me. “I want you to feel exposed, vulnerable. It’ll make you constantly aware of your sexuality. But you must not jerk off. You must wait for me. Do you understand?” I said yes, and I kept my word. It wasn’t easy. Outside the breeze kissed my balls. When I walked, my cock seemed always hard, slapping from thigh to thigh. Every moment, it seemed, my thoughts would focus on my cock and balls, how good it would feel to play with them, make that big meat of mine cream in orgasm. Trimming the hedges, I’d stand on the top rung of the ladder and proudly show my raging rod to the birds and squirrels, pretend a pack of girl scouts stripped and worshiped it while masturbating. What a thrill, looking down at my screaming erection, actually feel the blood pulsing through it, the pump, pump, pump of my heart threatening to beat off my rock-hard meat all by itself without me even touching it. When Liz came home, the first thing she’d do is grab my nuts and squeeze them. It would hurt, but not much, and I knew it gave her some perverse pleasure. As time passed and she gave me endless orgasms, I wanted more than anything to offer my body for her pleasure. If a little thing like squeezing my nuts, laughing while I moaned in pain, made her juicy, that made me happy, too. Now I know she’d sensed that about me from the beginning. She always got me off when she was done mauling my nuts, but as time went on she spent longer periods on the abuse, and it became more complex. She would straddle my thighs as I lay on my back, massage my dick till it stood rock hard, and put a needle against the tight skin of my glans, next to the piss slit. Her eyes would become narrow slits as she stared at me, her lips curling into a heartless grin. I’d feel the prick of the needle, not painful, more like a tickle. She’d actually gasp, her face flushed. We’d both stare at my cock, both gasping in excitement. Slowly she’d pull out the needle. A thin stream of blood would shoot three feet to splash against her tits and trickle down her belly, into her pussy hair, onto my balls. I watched her in fascination as, without touching herself she’d breathe faster and faster, moan, begin bucking, her mouth wide, smearing the blood all over herself and me, and go into a two-minute, almost delirious orgasm. Then she’d blow me, swallowing both blood and semen. After months of nightly orgasms, she came home three days in a row, teased me to rock-hardness, and told me she did not want me to come yet. I was forbidden to get myself off. On the fourth night she tied my wrists and ankles to the bedposts and my genitals to a rope thrown around a beam in the ceiling. The rope wasn’t tight, but it did lift the organs upright, keeping my cock throbbing with blood. “Tonight we begin a whole new set of games,” she said. She shut off all the lights in the house except one, a flood we sometimes used for taking indoor videos of ourselves having sex. It brightly illuminated the bed. The camera was already in place on the tripod. She clicked it on. The monitor sat on a tall chest of drawers. visible from various mirrors strategically placed around the room so that we could watch what was being filmed from anywhere on the bed. She turned it on. I saw on the screen body bathed in the light of the flood. She dressed and left the house. I heard her drive away, leaving my helplessly tied to the bed.. The only sounds were those of the woods. Time dragged. I found myself playing cock games, using will power and fantasy to make it swell with blood. I watched its bigger-than-life shadow bounce back and forth on the wall as the organ spasmed. Hours passed before I heard the car coming down the lane. Two doors opened and slammed shut. I heard them walking toward the house. The door opened. “What did I tell you?” Liz told the guy. “Strung up and ready like I said.” “What’s going on, Liz?” I asked, my erection fading. “Shut up,” she said, went to her dresser and removed a pair of panties. “Open his mouth,” she told the guy. He grabbed my face roughly, pressed his fingers into the sides of my mouth, forcing it open. Liz pushed the panties into my mouth and tied them in place with a silk scarf. “It’s time I introduce you to Steve,” she said. He was tall, broad-chested, dark-haired and handsome. His eyes had the same intensity as Liz’s. “Steve’s my brother,” she said. “We’ve been fucking ever since we knew how to do it. Six months ago we thought it would be fun to get a playmate—Steve wouldn’t let me beat his balls or stick needles in his cock, but he thought it would be fun to watch, and even come up with some original things to do to the right guy. When I met you, I knew you’d be perfect. But I want you to know the truth. Although I married you for what we’re going to do to you, I do love you, and always will—only partly because of the pleasure you’ve given me and will go on giving Steve and me.” At that moment, I felt all sorts of conflicting emotions: vulnerability at being naked in a spotlight in front of a stranger; fear; that lustful tingle that comes with surrender to Liz (she had conditioned me from the beginning); pressure in my prostate from four days of sexual stimulation but no orgasm. She began undressing. Steve did the same. “Sit on his face and start punching his guts—not hard enough to seriously hurt him.” Steve lifted his leg up over my head. His knees level with my shoulders, he lowered his buttocks. His balls rested on my forehead, his cock lay across one eye, against my nose. I smelled his muskiness. The first blow landed just below my rib cage on the right side. Another followed on the left. He swung into a steady rhythm, using me for a punching bag. I could feel his cock rising off my face, saw it straightening, standing tall. Beating my naked body was turning him on. Just then I felt a burning pain surge through my scrotal sac. Again and again it happened, as Liz struck my nuts with a belt. A dull ache began moving from my balls to my lower abdomen. My lurching after each slap from Liz turned Steve on even more, and his pounding was taking my breath away. Yet, I could feel my dick swelling. It was the craziest thing, but I kept thinking, this is why I was born. This—Liz— is why I was born. Finally they stopped. Liz took the panties out of my mouth. They untied me. “I’m going to slowly jerk you off now, Robbie,” she said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you’re hard as a rock.” I nodded. “And while I’m doing it, Steve is going to fuck your mouth, because that’s what he wants.” She piled five or six pillows at the bottom of the bed. “Come,” she ordered, “Put your head on the pillows so you’re just high enough for Steve’s cock.” “I can’t do that,” I whimpered. “It makes me sick to even think about it. I’m not a fag.” Instantly Steve reached around me to hold both my arms immobile, locked his legs around my pelvis, and punched me hard in the breadbasket, knocking the wind out of me. He slugged me in the face, busting my lip. I could taste the blood. The next shot was to my nuts. I thought I’d vomit. “Now, sweet thing,” Liz cooed, “Does Steve get to fuck your mouth while I jerk you off?” I couldn’t speak. I nodded my consent. “Good,” she purred. “Now, I want this on film.” She got the video camera from the closet, set it on the tripod. Steve came around to where my head bent over the pillows and side of the bed, and shoved his cock down my throat. Liz lowered the tripod till the camera was level with my eyes. “Lift your ass a little higher, Steve,” she told him. “I want to see his eyes, your balls dragging across them. I want to see your whole cock going in an out of his mouth.” When she was satisfied with the shot, she came to the bed and knelt between my legs. She grasped my soft cock with the authority of ownership. Immediately it began pulsing in her grasp. I guess I knew while it was happening that she was just conditioning me again, associating the incredible pleasure of having my cock manipulated by her wonderful touch while Steve shoved his cock down my throat. After a while, I’d grow used to it, even respond to it like Pavlov’s dogs to the bell, start salivating, getting hard. Maybe I’d even beg for it—was that what Liz wanted, to make me queer for Steve? I lay there passive, submissive, staring up at another man’s naked balls two inches above my eyes, feeling the underside of his shaft sliding back and forth against my tongue. “Suck it good, Robbie,” Liz whispered, as though reading my mind. Her voice was husky, the way it got when she was ready to come. It was turning her on seeing me humiliated. She knew just how to handle my cock, her grip loosening as I got closer, her pace slowing. Steve was getting there, too, moaning, his cock getting even harder. His balls were tightening, the taut skin brushing my forehead. The spotlight highlighted every hair on his nuts. My tongue caressed the underside of his shaft. “Oh,” he moaned “Yeah, that’s it. Yeah!” “Yes,” Liz gasped. She began jerking me faster. Steve thrust his cock deeper into my throat, pulling back so I could breathe, plunging it in. When he pulled back, I sucked hard, licking the full length of his dick. “Yeah, suck like that,” he groaned. “You’re great!” He stopped moving. “Yeah, just keep sucking. Keep the rhythm. Don’t move. Just keep sucking in rhythm. Damn, he’s great, Liz. You picked a…ah…Oh, God, it’s…so…good!” Liz and I came at the same time. The thrill was so powerful my whole body trembled. Wave after wave of ecstasy overwhelmed me. I heard Liz cry out and collapse on me in tears. She was very gentle then, holding me in her arms, kissing my forehead, brushing my cheek. She put her breast to my lips, licked my ear. “I love you so much, Robbie,” she said.
The second night, I had to make Steve hard with my mouth, then get on my hands and knees and, after lubricating his cock, let him fuck me while I used my mouth to get Liz off. Again she filmed my humiliation, and again, when it was over, she bathed me in tender affection. She wouldn’t let me come that night. ‘Not till the weekend,” she told me. On the weekend she tied a five-pound weight to my balls and made me crawl around with it. In the afternoon, Steve tied me to a post outside and beat me with his fists. Liz stood next to me for awhile lifting the weight and dropping it until the rope around my nuts tore the skin and grew red with blood. Liz moved behind Steve, reached around him and slowly beat him off. During the scene, Liz filmed from between Steve’s legs, shooting up at my nuts and abdomen. She did a close-up of Steve’s cold eyes and angry smile, another of his fists pounding my guts, my bruised abdomen, his spurting semen as it shot onto my belly. By Sunday night, my face and abdomen were covered with blue and yellow bruises, my eyes swollen into tiny slits. “Do you still love me?” Liz asked, sitting on Steve’s cock and caressing my face and forehead. I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered through blood-crusted lips from the bed where I was tied. “I promised you could come this weekend. I want you to fuck me. Take your time. I want it to be the most wonderful orgasm you’ve ever had, because when it’s over, while you’re still inside me, Steve is going to cut your balls off.” “No,” I whimpered. “I want more sex—please, Liz. I’m young…” “You’ll have more sex, more orgasms. When Steve fucks you, his cock will stimulate your prostate. In time you’ll learn just how to move to make Steve happy and get yourself off. And you can always get testosterone when I let you use it.” “Please, Liz, don’t make me—” She took my cock in her hand. “No one’s making you do anything,” she whispered. “Just don’t get hard. Don’t fuck me. Then Steve won’t put the razor wire around your nut sac. Then you won’t come, and you’ll still have your balls. It’s up to you.” But I really had no choice. She massaged my cock the same way she always did, and I responded as she’d conditioned me to. I was terrified, yet the erection happened instantly. Steve untied me, and Liz spread out for me on the bed. “You don’t have to decide now,” she whispered. “Just lay on me, put it in me. You don’t have to move.” I did what she said, and was so full of lust I hardly realized when Steve reached under me and fitted the razor wire loosely around my balls. I guess that’s when I surrendered to the fact that I’d be a eunuch within a few minutes. Tears ran down my cheeks and onto her face. I stared into her eyes. They were filled with love and lust. She smiled, and I tried to smile back, then began pounding it slowly, deeply, into her. “If this is what you want, then…okay,” I sobbed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s my gift to Steve.” At that instant the deepest, longest, most explosive orgasm of my life overwhelmed me. My whole body trembled as though in a seizure. I wasn’t in the world anymore, but drifting outside my body in space, mindless, annihilated. Liz cried out, too, tearing at my shoulders with her nails, tossing her head, gasping as though in agony.. About two seconds after my last ejaculation, I felt a slight burning around my scrotum. Perhaps the endorphins released by the orgasm had nullified the pain. My balls were gone now, forever. I felt the blood spurting. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to. I wanted to die.
The camera had been focused on a close-up of the castration. I could see in a mirror focused on the monitor my balls laying just below Liz’s pussy, the blood still trickling from the area where my balls had been attached. I was shedding my blood for Liz. “Roll over,” Steve ordered. Spread your legs. Liz, do that lovey-dovey stuff.” She brushed my cheek, kissed my lips. Steve handed her my severed balls. She put them in mymouth. Steve took the camera from the tripod. He filmed the blood-soaked rubber mattress lining, then my crotch where the bleeding had slowed to a trickle now that my lust had been sated. He panned to Liz’s crotch, bathed in my blood. Finally, he focused on my face, my balls dangling from my mouth, my tongue beneath them. I was a pathetic sight on the monitor, a bruised face, swollen eyes, a mouth full of my own balls. “You’ve given everything for my pleasure, my love,” Liz whispered. “Almost everything. Next week, I want you to die for my pleasure. I’m going to film Steve cutting your cock off. Then—oh, he’s so excited about this!—he’s going to shove a sword up your ass and bring it out at your navel! Can you imagine that—being fucked by a huge sword!” She began gasping, experiencing another orgasm, rubbing her clitoris violently. Steve put the camera down and mounted her, fucking her savagely. “Then,” he gasped, “I’m gonna put a belt around your neck, and while Liz stabs you in your guts, I’m gonna strangle you to death! Aggh!” The next morning, Steve and Liz got up as usual, washed, dressed, and went off to work. They never bothered tying me up or locking me in the house because my spirit had been broken. I was theirs to torture and destroy. Liz had seen to that. But during the night something had happened in my head. I had sacrificed everything for her pleasure. I’d even given her my balls. I would not give her my dick and all the pleasure it would bring me for the rest of my life. And I would not die for her. I dressed in Steve’s clothes—they’d long ago confiscated mine—took the $700.00 they kept in a dresser drawer, and hiked out to the nearest road. It wasn’t long before a farmer picked me up and dropped me off in town. Within an hour I was on a bus to… No, I’m not going to say where I am. Who knows but that Steve and Liz might just come across this.
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