The Sentence

Young American man runs afoul of the law in a country that has very 
harsh punishments and suffers the consequences.

back to index


                          THE SENTENCE



     “The defendant will please rise.”  
     At those words, I stood up, with my attorney at my side.
     “The defendant, having been found guilty of unlawful sexual
conduct, is hereby sentenced to be publicly castrated in the
manner consistent with the customs of this jurisdiction.
Afterward, he is to serve five years in the custody of the
department of prisons. This court is adjourned.”
     With those words, my fate was sealed.  My friends had told
me before coming to this country that things were not like they
were in the good old USA.  They told me that I needed to be very
careful about what I did and how I went about doing it.  Now, I
knew that I had not been careful enough, and I was about to
suffer the consequences for my actions.
     A guard put his hand on my shoulder.  I looked at my
attorney, who had nothing to say to me, but that he was sorry. 
There would be no appeals and no leniency.  The guard guided me
to the door at the side of the courtroom, down the hall and into
a small room.  In spite of my ankles having been shackled for my
trip to court, I still was able to walk easily enough.  I entered
the room where another guard stood armed with a small machine
gun.  The guard who had guided me unshackled my legs and told me
to get  out of my court clothes.  They were taken away as he
searched every part of my body for who knows what.  He looked up
my ass hole. He fondled my now condemned balls and slightly
stiffened dick, which was reacting to the attention that he was
giving to it.  Satisfied that I had not stolen anything out of
the courtroom, he pointed to my jail clothes, which consisted of
just a pair of jeans and a white tee shirt, and told me to get
dressed.  My mind was still reeling over the fact that I was
actually going to lose my balls, of which I had been so proud
since they had developed so handsomely in my early teen years. 
Many a night they had served me well.  Unfortunately, they had
served me well one night too many, as now they were going to
stripped from me as punishment for a quick  sexual encounter that
had actually meant nothing.
     My castration was not to be carried out until there were at
least three others who were to suffer the same fate as I.  Since
the public was going to be invited to our emasculation, the
prison officials wanted to be sure that they were going to be
entertained by more than the punishment of just one person.
Finally, the time came.  The prison officials informed me that
three other guys had been sentenced and that the sentences were
to be carried out the next day.  I had been held in solitary
since my sentencing, so I had no idea what the other guys were
like or what they had done.
     Shortly before noon the next day, I heard footsteps and a
rattling of chains coming down the hall toward the door of my
cell.  I was feeling a bit groggy.  I had gotten almost no sleep
during the night.  I had been kept awake by the anticipation of
the painful events of the coming day.  I had managed to jack
myself off a couple of times.  After all, I was going to lose my
balls.  I wanted to experience the pleasure they made possible at
least a last couple of times.  The door opened.  Three guards
came into my cell, one carrying a mean looking machine gun, which
he kept pointed at me as the other two went about their work. 
They handcuffed my hands in front of my body and put shackles
around my ankles.  The chain between my legs was connected to the
handcuffs by another chain, which was so short as to hold my
hands down to my waist.  I was led out of my cell barefooted. 
They did not want me to be able to run too far should I somehow
escape.  This was the first time I had been out of my cell since
I was sentenced.  Even though I was going to my punishment, I
still enjoyed the fresher air I was able to breath in the
corridor.
     I was taken to the dock area where the prison vans were
loaded and unloaded.  There was a dark blue van backed up to the
dock waiting with its back doors open.   Inside, the other three
prisoners were already sitting on the wooden benches that ran
along either side of the vehicle.  The two sitting on the left
side were facing the third sitting on the right.  They were
dressed in the same jeans and tee shirt as I and had the same
kind of restraints placed on them. Each one was what I would
consider very handsome.  They had the dark, swarthy good looks of
most the young men from this country.  Through the jeans they
were wearing, I could also see that they were each endowed with a
what looked like a good sized set of genitals. What a pity that
such good looking sets of equipment would have to be mutilated to
satisfy the demands of a demented justice system. Each one had a
look of fearful anticipation on his face.  I am sure they
mirrored my appearance as I began to realize that the time of our
punishment was drawing near.  As I sat down, the doors slammed
shut and we were enveloped in a gloomy darkness due to the fact
that there were no windows in the side of the van.
     The van began to move.  It moved slowly over the rough
streets of the city. In spite of that,  I had difficulty staying
on the bench, as the van bounced along the streets. I did not
have full use of my arms and legs to keep my balance due to the
chains that were constraining me. No one said anything during the
trip.  I suppose that we were all thinking about what would
happen to us at the end of our ride.  As we approached the town
square, we could hear the cheers of the crowd as it caught sight
of the van.  Excitement grew in the people as the van got closer. 
The police had to make way for the van as it approached the
platform in the center of the main square.  I could hear rocks,
cans, and other missiles launched by the unruly crowd hit the van
as we got closer.  I was getting more and more nervous.  Even so,
I was able to feel my dick getting hard in my jeans.  The
anticipation of being exposed before all of those people was
beginning to arouse me.
     The van backed up against the platform and the back doors
were opened.  The sun was directly behind the van, so our eyes,
which had become accustomed to the darkness, had trouble
adjusting to the blinding light as the guards moved in to get us. 
They grabbed the guys across the van from me first, then they got
me and then went for the guy who had been sitting next to me.  As
I was pulled out of the van and my eyes began to get used to the
bright sunlight,  I saw four posts about eight feet high lined up
along the center of the platform about four feet apart.  Each was
leaning at a forty five degree angle away from the front of the
stage, with a post rising vertically up from the floor behind
each supporting it about two feet from the top.  About six inches
from the bottom and top of each post were iron rings attached.
There was a table toward the from of the platform and away from
the van.  On it were a microphone and a large wooden bowl.  I
looked at the large group of people surging toward the platform. 
Thankfully the police were being successful at keeping them from
getting onto the stage.  A small iron picket fence around the
edge of the platform helped the police with this task.  The first
two guys taken out of the van were already being bound to the
first two posts.  I was the next. As I was being led to the post
to which I was going to be tied, my stomach began to become
nauseous.  The huge crown, the hot sun, the stark posts and the
thought of losing my testicles combined to make me sick.    
     We were each taken to our respective posts.  Our tee shirts
were torn off to the delight of the voyeuristic crowd.  We were
then made to back up against the posts and made to lie back onto
them.  The chains that had connected the handcuffs were unlocked
from the chain between our legs and looped through the rings at
the upper end of each post.  They were pulled tight, so that our
arms were stretched above our heads. The chains between our legs
were locked to the ring at the lower end of the post.  The crowd
watched with unruly interest as we were being bound to the posts. 
They seemed oblivious to the fact that just one slip up and soon
any one of them could be thenext person being tied to the posts
on this platform.  My stomach began to calm down, but I was
beginning to have a little trouble breathing because of the
tightness of the muscles in my chest brought about by the
stretching of my arms above my head. 
     Then we felt a tug at the top button of our jeans.  An
excited roar went up from the crowd as it began to see the guards
unbuttoning our jeans in order to pull them down around our
ankles.  With single jerks, our pants came down.  Yells and cat
calls came from the excited crowd as they saw for the first time
the organs that were to be destroyed in this arena of the absurd.
My dick betrayed me as it stiffed in response of hundreds of eyes
gazing at it.  I looked away from the crowd as a wave of shame
came over me.  My dick was throbbing in time with my rapid
heartbeat.  I couldn’t bear it. I looked over to the one guy to
my left.  His eyes were closed tightly.  He did not want to see
the wanton faces of the crowd as they looked with gross
anticipation at the doomed testicles lying between his legs.  I
looked to my right. The other two guys were returning epithets to
the crowd with loud, crazed voices.  I suppose they did not want
the crown to think that they would go down without a fight.  
     The guards came to each one of us with two large belts about
four inches wide and an eighth of in inch thick.  The belts were 
long enough to wrap around the posts and our bodies at the waist
and thighs.  The guards cinched our bodies against the posts with
these belts so it became very difficult to move.  We were
becoming more and more helpless.  Next came strips of duct tape. 
These were used to tape our dicks to our lower abdomens.  This
had the effect of raising our balls up so they became more
accessible.  My dick had gotten smaller by this time, so my
embarrassment began to ease a bit.  However, my embarrassment was
being replaced by the building horror that was the result of my
realizing that the time of the end of my manhood was getting
closer and closer.
     Finally, the guards tied a section of medium thick rope
around the neck of each of our scrotums.  The rope was wrapped
around and around until the tightness caused the skin of our sacs
to shine as the balls within them pressed against the scrotum
wall from the inside.  I began to feel a dull ache in my balls. 
The ends of the ropes were looped through a ring on the  belts
wrapped around our waists and tightened up so that our balls
stood straight up into the air.  We were now prepared for our
fate. 
     The guards left the platform, having finished their jobs for
the time being.  Three prison officials then mounted the platform
to begin the ceremonies.  The head official picked up the
microphone on the table and began to address the crowd.  In his
short speech he thanked the crowd for coming and gave a short
talk on the value of law and order and the value of the type of
punishment we were about to receive.  The official also told
everyone that to be completely fair, each of the prisoners had
been designated with a number, and a marble with each of our
numbers had been placed in the large wooden bowl on the table. I
was designated as prisoner number two.  The guy on my left was
number one, and the other two guys on my right were number three
and four.  The order in which we were to be emasculated was to be
determined by drawing marbles out of the bowl.  After telling us
about this, one of the officials picked up the bowl and held it
over his head.  The third official stood poised to reach into the
bowl to pick the number of the first victim.  The crowd grew
quiet.  I felt a knot growing in my stomach as the time
approached for the announcement of which one of us was to lose
his balls first.  I looked to the guy on my left.  He was shaking
in fear, knowing that he could be losing his masculinity in just
a few short seconds.  The guys on my right were still defiant,
but getting less so as the third official went to the bowl to
make the drawing that would determine our fate.
     He reached into the large bowl.  Everyone held his breath. 
The first marble was chosen and given to the head official to
announce.  The first prisoner to be punished would be ---
prisoner number three.  The crowd roared its approval. I
immediately was relieved that he did not announce number two,
then I looked quickly over to my right.  Prisoner number three
was next to me, and I could see that the look of defiance that
had been on his face just a few short seconds ago had dissolved
into a look of horror.  He realized that there would be no
escape.  His balls were doomed to destruction. He began to squirm
within his bonds in a futile attempt to escape.  He began to beg
and plead for it all to stop, but no one took pity on him.  The
voices in the crowd began to chant, “Number three, number three,
....”  I looked at the shining balls that stood up from the body
of prisoner number three.  They were beautiful.  I felt that it
would be such a waste to remove such beautiful specimens of
manhood from the earth.  However, that was exactly what was about
to happen.
     I looked over my right shoulder.  I large hulk of a human
being moved into my field of vision, just to the right and rear
of prisoner number three.  The executioner was at least six feet,
five inches tall.  He was dressed only in a black mask, black
pair of shorts and military style boots, which came halfway up
his legs.  His chest and arms were a sea of muscles.  There was
not an ounce of fat on this monstrously large human being.  One
could tell by the huge bulge in the front of the tight shorts he
was wearing that he was enjoying his roll in the events of the
day. In his right hand he held a large board that was formed into
the shape of a huge paddle.  This board was at least an inch
thick, four feet long with a padded handle.  The board must have
been very heavy, but our executioner was able to handle it
easily.  It was at that moment that I fully realized how our fate
was to be carried out.  The paddle was to be used to rain down
destruction on our balls.  My stomach got sick the thought of
what was about to happen.  Prisoner number three realized what
was about to happen, too, and renewed his begging and pleading. 
He did it to no avail.  His balls were about to be crushed out of
existence, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do
about it.
     The executioner brought the paddle gently down onto the
tightly bound balls of prisoner number three.  He wanted to be
sure that his aim was correct.  He teased the terrified prisoner
by gently rubbing the paddle back and forth on the doomed
testicles.  The scrotum under the paddle of horror rolled gently
back and forth under this motion.  Prisoner number three
continued struggling and yelling for mercy, but the officials,
the executioner and the boiling crowd were deaf to his cries. 
The moment of the death of prisoner number three’s manhood was
near.
     The executioner raised the paddle high above his head,
hesitated a moment while everyone held his breath, then in one
quick swoop brought the heavy paddle down hard onto the tightly
bound scrotum of prisoner number three with a loud WHACK.  The
prisoner’s scrotum split open in several places, spewing its
crushed contents all over the platform.  A bloody piece of his
destroyed balls landed on my stomach just above my navel.  The
prisoner at first lay still, then a tortured, throaty scream came
from his distorted face.  The crowd went wild.  They had finally
seen what they had come to see.  The prisoner kept screaming and
he rocked back and forth on the post within his bonds.  A few
seconds later, a yellowish brown liquid shot out of the prisoners
mouth between screams.  The sudden overwhelming pain and shock
had caused him to throw up the contents of his stomach.  His
humiliation was total.  Prisoner number four, on the other side
looked at the spectacle with a face terrorized by the knowledge
that he could be the next one suffering the agony that was now
being displayed by the hapless prisoner between us.  I looked
over to my left.  Prisoner number one had turned away, not being
able to look at the results of the crushing collision between the
heavy paddle and the scrotum of the tortured prisoner number
three.  Finally, the screaming prisoner got quiet, as he
mercifully fainted from the shock of having his balls devastated. 
The punished prisoner was left there by the guards.  The tight
ropes around what was left of his scrotum prevented any life
threatening blood loss.  The crowd cheered and then began
chanting for more.  My stomach knotted up even more.  I knew the
time of my impending emasculation was getting nearer and nearer. 
My tightly bound balls burned not only with the grip of the
tightly bound ropes around them, but also with the lurid gaze of
hundreds eyes looking forward to their being destroyed just as
the prisoner’s balls next to me had been.  I closed my eyes,
hoping that this was all just a horrible nightmare, but knowing
that it was real.
     A young messenger came onto the stage at this point.  He
gave an official looking envelope to the chief official, who took
it with a look of curiosity.  The official opened it, and after
briefly reading the contents, picked up the microphone and
announced that the president of the country had decided to grant
a reprieve to one of the bound prisoners on the stage.  The crowd
was hushed with a combination of disappointment and curiosity. 
They wanted to see every bound ball on the stage crushed to
oblivion, but they were also curious as to which prisoner’s balls
would be spared such a fate.  I was curious myself about which of
the prisoners had been spared.  I even began to hope that I could
be the one saved from the most horrible aspect of my sentence. It
was announced that the prisoner to be spared would be determined
by drawing a marble from the large wooden bowl on the table.  The
prisoner whose number would be drawn would be spared having his
balls destroyed.  Hope rose in my chest.  Could I actually be
spared?  I looked at my fellow conscious prisoners.  They looked
up hopefully as well.  A chance!!  The two lesser officials went
over to the bowl.  One picked it up and raised it over his head. 
The other reached in.  The fate of my masculinity was at stake. 
I begged silently that my number would be drawn and that I would
be spared the fate of the prisoner next to me.  
     “Please, please, please pick marble number two,” I thought
with every fiber of my being.  
     The fateful marble was given to the chief official, who
looked at it with curiosity.  The suspense was killing me and
killing my fellow prisoners.  The world began to go in slow
motion as the chief officer reached for the microphone to
announce the results of the drawing.
     “The prisoner to be granted clemency from castration will
still have to serve out the full length of the prison term that
was assessed him at his sentencing,” the chief official said, 
delaying the fateful announcement.  “I will now announce the
prisoner’s number.  It is -- prisoner number four!”
     The prisoner who had shown the most defiance and resistance
to his prospective emasculation had been the one spared from that
fate.  Prisoner number one and I were devastated.  We both knew
at this point that there was no hope for our doomed testicles. 
They were to be smashed to pieces, and there was nothing that
either one of us could do about it, now.  The look on prisoner
number four’s face was one of complete relief.  The guards, who
had bound us to the posts earlier, came onto the platform and
began unbinding our lucky companion.  After he was untied, he
pulled up his pants and walked off the stage into a waiting
prison van.  As he walked by us, he looked at us with mock pity
and with undeniable joy that he had been spared at our expense. 
That moment was the worst moment of my life.  It was totally void
of all hope.  I closed my eyes and began to literally cry.  The
crowd could not have been more pleased at my reaction.  They
laughed, hooted and hollered with glee, knowing that I and the
guy next to me were going to be punished in the most terrible of
ways.  I could not look at any of them.  I was devastated.
     The two officials went to the large wooden bowl again to
chose which of the two of us left would get it next.  The next
marble was drawn and given to the chief official.  He looked at
it, picked up the microphone and announced, “Prisoner number
two!”
     At last, my number was up.  It was my turn to suffer the
consequences of the crime I had committed.  My body jumped
against my bonds.  A surge of adrenaline shot through the core of
my body. I began to breath heavily and sweat profusely.  I looked
one last time at my tightly bound balls.  This would be the last
time I would see them intact.  I looked at the guy to my right.
He was looking at me with a look of horror.  He knew now for
certain that he would be next, and he looked as if he could not
bear seeing me go through what I about to, since it was a
harbinger of the suffering he was to endure in a few short
minutes. 
     A large shadow appeared on my upper right side.  It was the
executioner.  He had come to do his grim work.  I felt the paddle
slowly approach my balls as the executioner tested his aim.  It
lightly touched my balls.  They twitched at the feel of the
instrument of their destruction.  He rolled the paddle gently
back and forth on my shiny scrotum, teasing me and increasing the
terror that was building in my mind and body.  He lifted the
paddle back into the air and back over his right shoulder.  He
waited for a moment, but it seemed like forever to me.  The time
of my brutal emasculation was at hand.  I closed my eyes tightly
and held my breath.  The crowd held its breath, too.  It seemed
as if the whole world was standing still.  
    WHACK!  My mouth and eyes flew open.  At that same moment, my
scrotum split.  Pieces of my balls flew into my open eyes and
mouth.  The rest of my now crushed testicles splattered all over
the platform, even into the faces of the waiting prisoner number
one and the executioner.  For a split second, there was no pain,
but that was not to last.  Suddenly the pain hit me as if it were
exploding within my stomach, then in my head.  It was every bit
as bad as I had expected it to be, even worse.  My body went
weak.  An involuntary scream began to form in my chest.  It
worked its way up into my throat and out of my mouth as if it
were some animal escaping from its now shattered cage.  Even
though I did not want to satisfy the animal lust of the crowd for
it, I could not stifle the scream.  I could not stop screaming. 
I exhaled a scream with every breath.  The pain and horror were
absolutely unendurable.  The crowd roared it approval of my
tragedy.  They roared even louder as the contents of my stomach
erupted out of my mouth interrupting my screams.  Stars began to
form in my field of vision.  Those stars grew, my vision grew dim
and I fainted.
     I awoke briefly as I heard the screams of prisoner number
one as his punishment was administered.  I dimly saw his flatten
scrotum on his shivering body.  Our castrations were complete. 
The sheer horror of it caused me to faint again.  I was not to
regain consciousness until our emasculated bodies had been
transported back to the prison.
     When I woke up, I was in the prison hospital.  I felt a
slight burning pain under my dick.  Except for a clean bandage,
the slight pain was the only evidence of the ordeal I had
endured.  I looked around the room.  The other two prisoners who
had shared the horrible experience with me were in the room awake
and alert.  During our stay over the next several days there, we
became friends.  We had a common bond that only we could share. 
I was soon transferred to the section of the prison in which I
was to spend the next five years of my life.  During that time I
was given no hormonal treatments to overcome the shortage of
testosterone caused by my brutal castration.  By the end of my
term I had begun to develop breasts, my voice had become brittle
and my beard thinner.  My dick became small and useless for
anything except urination.  I lamented the loss of my prized
masculinity, but there nothing I could do about it, now.
     I had left America a virile young specimen of male humanity,
and I returned a mere shadow of my former self.  If only I had
followed the advice of my friends.  Life was not the same without
my balls.  I really miss them.