Sunday, June 30, 2013
The Fine Print (M/mmmm) - repost
The Fine Print
Darrel looked down at the notice: “Rent is now overdue by three months. Please contact Barry King at 105 Royal Mansions Drive, ASAP.”
This was not looking good. Of the four guy’s in the house, only Darrel had a job, and it was just a part-time, low paying affair. What were they going to do? Darrel phoned his brother, Rob (a police officer), to get some advice and told him about their situation, and Rob advised working out a deal.
After hanging up, Darrel took the notice and walked into the steamy bathroom. Alan was in the shower.
“Alan, we’re all going to have to visit Mr. King.”
Alan pushed aside the curtains and looked at his roommate. Alan was naked and soapy, his balls silky and lathered up, with his fat dick hanging semi erect over them. His body was toned and tan.
“For what?” he said, massaging foamy shampoo into his crew-cut red hair.
“The rent of course. It’s overdue by three months. I think we’re going to have to work something out with him. Unless we want to move.”
“Naw, that’s such a hassle. Let’s go over to his place when Todd and Chase get back.” Now Alan was soaping up his ass, lathered hands sliding into his own crack to make sure it was squeaky clean. A few seconds later the bar of soap in his hands popped across the room and hit Darrel in the back as he was leaving.
“Could you get that for me?” asked Alan.
Darrel grinned. “Haven’t you ever been warned about dropping the soap?” he said.
“You can fuck me any time, dude. Just make sure to use soap as lube. I hate having a dirty shute.” Darrel laughed.
Later Todd and Chase returned from their Lacrosse game all hot and sweaty. They shrugged off their equipment until they were naked and took a shower together, each talking about the game. Darrel found them and repeated his story.
Chase, a muscular guy with black hair and green eyes opened the curtain just like Alan had. “So we’re late with the rent. It’s not the end of the world.” Todd was running liquid soap all over Chase’s back, massaging it in. “Besides, we’re just out of high school. We can’t be expected to have jobs yet.”
“Yeah,” said Todd, the blond of the group. “If he’s cool about it. We could, ya know, do something for him. My turn.” Todd got under the showerhead, and Chase started lathering up Todd.
An hour later they were piled into Chase’s van, and they headed on over to Mr. King’s house. They got out and politely knocked on his door. It was big, expensive house with fancy French windows, an impeccably manicured garden and was three stories tall. The owner, and their landlord, opened the door.
Barry King was a thirty-something business man, tall, with short blond hair, ice blue eyes, the body of a swimmer, and he was wearing a suit and tie. He looked nice enough, but the way his eyes roved all over their bodies made them uneasy.
“So nice of you boys to finally show up. Come in.” He led the four teens into a large sitting room, filled with expensive furniture and they all plopped down on a couch made with real leather. It was extremely comfy. Barry sat down opposite them.
“So, what’s up with the rent, boys?” His penetrating gaze held each of theirs, in turn. Todd spoke up.
“You know, we’re just not working right now. It’s not our fault.”
“Yeah, the economy’s terrible. No jobs around this neighborhood,” commented Chase.
“It’s a very expensive property, boys. I’ve had that house for eleven years, and there’s a mortgage to pay for.”
Ever the practical one, Darrel cleared his throat. “Uhm, perhaps we could come to some sort of deal? Is there anything we could do for you?”
Barry regarded them for a while, his eyes once again moving over each boy. They were athletic, young, handsome, and none of them were blacks, Jews or fairies. Perhaps they could provide him with some . . . entertainment.
“Ok. I just happen to have a special contract, that if you boys would sign it, would offer a fair trade. But I have to warn you that once you sign it, you’ll have to do what I tell you, no questions asked.” Barry regarded them with a guarded, inscrutable expression on his face. He was following business protocol, but wasn’t giving anything else away.
“Great!” said Darrel. “Right guys?” He jabbed Alan in the ribs with his elbow.
“Uh, yeah, great,” said Alan
Chase and Todd both nodded.
“Very good. Let me go get it.” The handsome man rose smoothly and went to get the contract from his safe where he kept it. He returned with the contract and an expensive fountain pen.
“Go ahead and sign it. I’ve penned in the time conditions. This will be a month to month lease. For each month you stay there, the conditions and terms will progress to their ultimate conclusion.”
“Progress?” said Chase.
“Conclusion?” asked Todd.
Barry’s face betrayed a hint of a smirk, “Don’t worry I’ll be giving you instructions and eventually you’ll be spending a good deal of time each week here, at my house.” In the boy’s minds, this meant yard work and house painting. Since they were young and naïve, they all signed the contract without even reading it, although Darrel noticed a lot of fine print at the bottom. In fact there seemed to be several pages of fine print. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘just the usual legal mumbo jumbo’.
“Wonderful,” said Mr. King as he snatched it up. Now there was an eager look on his face. “Tomorrow, cameras will be installed in the house. From now on, you’re to be naked at all times while on those premises. When you masturbate, which I assume you all do, I want you to do it in full view of the cameras. Do you understand? And if you have sex with any of your girlfriends I’ll expect that to happen on top of the sheets.”
“What kind of shit is this?” asked Chase.
“The terms of the contract. Unless, of course, you wish to be homeless?” Barry said calmly, one eyebrow raised. “It’s a bad time to be without a place to live.”
Todd, though, was smiling. “That’s all, dude? No problem. We like being naked anyways.”
“Alright then.” Barry let them out, and the boys drove home.
Everyone was quiet except Todd. “He’s a sick bastard, but we got it easy. Just a little jack time to get him off, and we got a free place to live. Sweet deal.”
The next day a group of quiet, Hispanic workmen did indeed install a camera system. Each room, including the bathroom and the kitchen were outfitted with one or more. In fact there were three put in the bathroom, one in the shower, one pointing at the toilet and one in the corner. Barry was leaving nothing to chance. After the workers had left, Darrel got up on a chair and looked at one. According the markings these cameras had night vision, so they couldn’t just turn off all the lights to hide their activities.
Within minutes of the camera system activation the phone rang. It was Mr. King, reminding them they still had their clothes on.
It was Todd who answered. “Sure, Mr. King. We’ll take them off. Bye.” He turned to the other guys. “Time to turn up the thermostat and strip.” So they all got naked, and then did what they always did: watch TV, talk about sports and girls, cooked, slept, and yes, masturbated. They were all moderately exhibitionistic anyways and Chase and Todd actually got exciting thinking they were doing it to an audience. Todd even got up on a chair one time so that the second camera in his room could get an eyeful of his massive cock, pendulous balls, and the thick ropey fountain of sperm that erupted when he came.
One night they came back from a party with three girls in tow, and they all had a drunken orgy in the living room. Chase actually kept looking up at the three living room cameras and moaned aloud, knowing their kinky landlord would appreciate the look on his face when he finally came. By night’s end, the whole house was perfumed with the heady smells of hot semen and wet cunt.
This went on for several weeks, but eventually, Mr. King called and asked them to come over to his house again. So, they piled into the van and made the short trip into the hills where their landlord lived.
This time, as they sat in the living room, there was an air of apprehension. A note of disquiet. Barry didn’t even acknowledge their nervous shifting about, and moved swiftly on with business.
“So the first month is up. Now onto the second phase.” The blond man turned his head to face Alan. “Alan, I want you to take out Chase’s dick and suck on it. Right now.”
Alan’s face turned red. “What the fuck, dude?”
“Under the terms of the contract you’ve all signed, I’m in charge of you and your bodies. Suck it now!” It was a command if ever they’d heard one.
Darrel butted in. “Hey, jacking off for you is one thing, getting all gay is another.”
“Well. Would your parents like to learn about how you live? Everything you’ve been doing on camera has been recorded. How would you feel if your parents saw your sex lives? Up close, and personal. How would you like me to show your girlfriend, Amy, that you also have been seeing quite a lot of Sarah too?” he said, his cold blue eyes looking at Todd. “In fact almost all of her.”
Todd’s face puckered with a frown. Then he sighed. “Shit man, he’s got us.”
“That’s right, I do. By the balls. So up on your feet, Alan, and get sucking. Darrel, you suck Todd off. I want to see deep throating and drinking of jizz. I want to see you in loving worship of cock. Now start!”
And so a good full two hours of oral sex was engaged in. The boys had to swap places after each orgasm, and they managed to squeeze out two loads each. Despite the fact that sucking pole was a foreign activity to them, they naturally all enjoyed receiving head, and their innate lack of inhibitions made the intimate contact seem comfortable.
As Darrel was wiping some cum off his cheek, Barry stood up and smiled. “Good job, boys. You’ll be world class fellationists in no time. I’ll see you again in two days. Come over about 4pm.”
As they were riding home in the van, Darrel blurted out. “Shit Todd, what did you eat last night? Your cum tasted like hot dogs.” Chase and Alan smirked.
At home, it was back to naked living and exposed wanking, showering, taking a dump, while every other evening they had to go to Barry’s house and have sex with each other. Simple blowjobs gave way to naked necking, gave way outright bareback fucking, with Barry calling the shots, positions, and making them money-shot on command. The boys quickly came to know each other in ways unimaginable two months prior, now they were getting down and dirty with each other while their landlord watched. What was odd, though, was that he never joined it, never stroked himself while they made out, and they never even saw him get an erection. No lump in his pants. He just sat there, getting them used to his directing their every move.
Dinnertime conversations now turned to their new sex lives as often as it hit other topics.
“Chase. You’ve got to angle your dick downward when you’re fucking me. It hits my prostate better.” Darrel insisted on having some pleasure from bottoming.
Todd grinned at Darrel. “You sure don’t complain when I plow that ass of yours. I’ve got a real dick.”
“Shut the fuck up,” said Chase with a frown. “My dick’s an inch longer than yours, at least.”
Alan smirked. “Size isn’t everything.” Darrel threw the piece of bread he was eating at him. It turned into a food fight. The naked boys were soon smeared with condiments of every type, with kernels of the popcorn Chase had been making stuck all over. So, naturally, they all piled into the shower to wash off, each taking turns under the shower.
After two weeks of it, sex with each other started to seem normal, or at least something to look forward to. After all, sex was sex. A hole was a hole. They even got into kissing each other and deep-throating each other’s cocks. Mr. King had to do less and less coaching and directing. At their age, all things sensual were instinctively adaptable. Cocks were sucked, cum was guzzled, asses were plumbed and the boys always ended up sweaty, exhausted and satiated. Todd even started ignoring both of his girlfriends since he no longer had the energy to fuck either one.
At the beginning of the next month, Mr. King initiated them into the next phase of his diabolical scheme. When they entered his house, he had them each swallow a pill without telling them what it was, then they stripped, as usual, but this time he took them up to the third floor of the house where he had a “dungeon”. The walls were painted black, the hardwood floor was lacquered black and there were all sorts of vicious looking equipment about the place. There was a big red, black and white Nazi flag on one wall, and there were four chains on the opposite wall, and four sets of ankle cuffs.
“Hell no!” said Chase. “We’re not getting into S&M. Not for you, not for nobody.”
“Holy shit!” said Todd, looking at all the perverse items of torture in the room.
“Oh, I think you will,” said Barry said calmly. “You see all of your sex with each other has been filmed and turned into DVD’s. This house is studded with hidden camcorders. In fact I’m going to play some for you later. And it would be such a tragedy if they were to suddenly turn up in, oh I don’t know, the mailbox of your parents. Or former teachers. Or job counselors. Or . . . future employers.” Mr. King’s eyes were mere slits as he looked at each in turn.
They all looked at each other, indignity plain on their faces. Then, one by one, their head’s dropped in defeat. What choice did they have? They were embarrassed, helpless and had been once again outmaneuvered by their landlord, the sick twisted fuck.
“Shit, OK man, just don’t ruin my face. I want to go into acting,” said Todd.
“Oh, I won’t be damaging any part of you that people will notice. You see,” he said has he secured each boy to the chains and cuffs, “I’m a sadist, and my particular specialty is ball busting and testicle torture. The contract you signed gives me explicit power over your bodies, but especially your cock and balls. So tonight we’re going to begin your training in submission. You’re going to wish God have never given you those two little dangling, helpless things between your legs.”
Now the boys got really nervous. Shit! This was going to hurt. They were naked, their legs spread, and they couldn’t protect themselves with their hands. Shit!
“Don’t worry, I’ll start out easy and gradually build up your endurance. But first, I need to change.” He returned a short while later, dressed in an all black leather outfit and he had a red cuff around his right arm with a black swastika on it. He had thigh-high boots and a riding crop in one hand. He walked up to Alan, who was on the end closest to the door, and fondled his hanging balls, assessing their size, their shape and their heft. He did this to each boy. Then he went back to Alan. He kneeled in front of him and began to suck his dick. It felt good, and naturally it hardened. Once rigid, he pulled out a roll of duct tape and taped Alan’s throbbing boner to his stomach. He did this with each boy. Then he stepped back to admire his handwork.
“The Viagra I gave you will keep you rock hard and your cocks out of the way. Now, let’s have some fun.” He chose Todd first and kicked him between the legs, legs that tried to close and protect the family jewels but couldn’t. Just a light kick, to test Todd’s pain threshold. The toe of Barry’s black boots connected with the two dangling orbs, especially Todd’s fatter left ball, and the boy coughed. He kicked Todd between the legs, again, this time harder. And then again, even harder. The blond boy started moaning, “shit, oh shit, fuck.” The other boys just watched in a sort of scared fascination. Every guy likes to watch a good nutshot. But only as long as it’s happening to someone else, and they all knew they’d be next. Todd’s balls were bouncing, jiggling and jumping while Todd himself was jerking around like a ventriloquist’s dummy. “Oh geeze, my balls. Dude!” he cried out. Barry just smiled grimly at the pain he was inflicting. Darrel noticed that their captor was finally showing some evidence of sexual excitement. The tight leather outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination and they could all see his massive cock pulsing in its confines.
Finally Todd sort of collapsed in his chains and stopped responding to stimulus. Barry walked up to the broken boy and gently caressed his balls, which were swelling nicely. He stroked Todd’s head and whispered into his ear that everything was going to be all right. While doing so he jammed his legs into Todd’s balls again, just a few times, to make sure he’d really passed out, and then disengaged to retrieve a parachute and some 5lb weights. Soon Todd’s swollen scrotum was being pulled towards the floor. Barry moved on to Darrel.
While he rammed his shin between Darrel’s legs, Barry outlined his long-term goals. “First I’m going to toughen your balls up and enable you to endure more and more pain. Then I’m going to swell them during each session. With time your balls will get bigger and bigger and bigger.” WHAM. Darrel cried out. That one had caught his right nut and jammed it against his pelvis.
“I’m also going to stretch your sacks to accommodate the increased size. But of course the important thing, is to let you learn to enjoy all of this. I’m going to toughen you up and take you on the journey from boys into men.” WHAM. Darrel felt like throwing up at this point. He’d received about fifteen brutal kicks to his scrotum. This fucking shit was evil!
“Towards that end, you’ll be in this room for the next three days, as my ‘guests’, and I’m going to take you to heights of pleasure and pain undreamed of.” With a huge, almost running kick, Barry punted Darrel so hard that the boy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and passed out with a strange gurgling sound. Again Barry gently assessed the damage he’d caused and then added a parachute to Darrel’s nutsack. Chase, and then Alan, got it next. Got it bad. Barry seemed to feed off their pain like some sort of vampire, his kicks becoming more and more vicious. Eventually all the boys were comatose and were left alone. But Barry was back two hours later. He splashed water in their faces. The Viagra was still in effect and he sucked each of the boys off just until they were ready for release, then stood up and kneed their nuts as hard as he could - while their purple headed dicks oozed jack, their nuts were blowing up like balloons, and none of them could do anything about it. This was repeated every two hours until well past midnight.
After trips to the bathroom, the dazed boys were left over night with weights on their nuts. Barry set up a large TV in the dungeon which played the boy’s sex films all night, keeping them awake. And in the morning they were roused by Mr. King’s riding crop whacking into their nutpouch. He was still dressed in his leather outfit, which except for the Nazi arm band, was reminiscent of the uniforms in the Xmen movies.
Now he did a combination of kicks and knees to their balls, going fast at first to put them into shock, and then slower to expand their testes as far as they would go. There were periods where all he did was gently fondle their bloated nuts and squeeze them, all the while murmuring gently, as if calming lambs before their slaughter. But he never let them cum. Any indication of that beloved explosion, and he’d squeezed their testicles until it abated. They were given no food, only water and a constant supply of Viagra. By the end of the second day, they were all moaning constantly and their dicks were dripping like faucets. This was followed by another night of hanging – both their bodies and their balls.
When dawn came on the third day, the four boys were all but broken. They’d had a total of 15 hours of continuous testicle torture, and they felt exhausted and helpless. But when Barry came in this time all he did for the rest of that day was slowly jack them, whisper soothing words into their ears and squeezed their testicles firmly. He knew his job well. Part of breaking a colt is reassuring it while it’s numb to the pain. By that evening, he had them all convinced that the ballbusting they endured was good for them, would make them stronger, purer, and above all, men. Barry would strengthen their balls, make them more resilient. Before letting them go, he finally sucked them off to completion and for each it was the most sickeningly sweet and painful experience of their lives. It was like he sucked their sperm right out of their broken nuts, and they all cried out at the moment of explosion.
One by one, he gently let them down, washed them each in the shower (soaping them up and letting them recover), and then sent them on their way. He told them to come back in three days, and it was a cycle to be repeated – three days of torture, three days of recovery. After a month of that treatment, they began to acclimate to the experience and even began to get into it (a little). They had no choice, after all. There was no getting out of Barry’s trap, so why not make the best of it? And their mind blowing orgasms at the end of each trio of days plus the constant release of endorphins was almost like a drug, making them almost look forward to the ball busting.
But it was the things that Barry would say that really got to them, got inside their heads. Scary and seductive things. While punching their nuts and whispering into their ears, he would appeal to their vanity by them how beautiful they all were, how fit and muscular they were, how intelligent and superior they were to other people, and how much he loved each of them. And then he would mix that with long tales of how the Nazi’s would castrate men, torture their balls, crush them while they still hung from a guy, cut off their scrotum and electrocute their naked testicles. He did all this in the gentlest voice, whispering into their ears like he was telling some gruesome nighttime children’s story, and it made them shiver, every time. Barry certainly looked the part of an evil Reichchild. Ice cold blue eyes, Aryan blond hair, and handsome Nordic features. Although he could obviously schmooze with people for business purposes, this cold, cruel seducer was his real persona, the other just a mask of manipulation.
But regardless of his personal issues, Barry’s technique was flawless – the boys were learning to be submissive and their balls were getting much bigger. At the house, they began to measure their balls and even weight them. With all the edema, they’d become fat and heavy, and perpetually red. It became a minor contest to see whose nuts were the biggest that week. They still ran around naked in the house, of course, but they were much more sedate and didn’t talk much. After a month of ball-torture, Chase and Alan found they could jack off again, but the other two were still in too much constant pain to do much except eat and watch TV, each with their legs spread wide and their hands cupping their bloated balls.
Barry continued to break in his colts, using sleep deprivation to his advantage until he could get them to simply kneel on the ground, no chains at all, spread their legs and let him kick their nuts. Eventually, he got them to actually beg him to kick their nuts, beg him to hurt their privates, beg him to make them sterile.
Usually to start out a three day marathon of pain, he’d get them aroused and then beat their hard cocks with his riding crop, leaving bruises and welts. Todd actually got quite aroused by the penis torture, especially when mixed with Barry’s warm mouth, while Chase and Alan became hardest to squeezing mixed with blowjobs, and Darrel seemed to enjoy bottoming for Barry, now that the sadist finally showed some interest in regular sex. Barry would take them into his bedroom, one at a time, and fuck them while squeezing or punching their balls, and all the while whispering sweet nothings into their ears, filling their heads with the idea that they were being loved and cared for by him.
When they were at home, Barry would call them up from his cell phone at work and tell them to do things, like have sex, jack off, wrestle, or even bust each other’s balls. And they did it. They actually did whatever he said. His power over them was becoming absolute. He was making them want to sacrifice themselves to his heady mix of pain and pleasure. After all, they certainly couldn’t tell anyone about all this or their lives would be ruined by all the videos of their activities, so they had no choice to but go along with his program. And it all came to a head, so to speak, on the first day of the second month of this torture-fest.
The boys were naked, on their knees, awaiting Barry (whom they now called “master”) to start their punishment. All of them were hard, their grapefruit sized balls almost touching the floor. Their master came in, as usual in black leather, his riding crop under one armpit, and the other arm with a black swastika on a red band.
“Hello master,” said Allan. Barry smiled and kicked the boy’s fat scrotum.
“Hello master,” said Todd. Barry slammed his shiny boot into Todd’s hanging orbs
The other two boy’s greeted him simultaneously, and the returned the gesture with a smack of his riding crop. Chris bent over, coughing.
“Tonight is an important night,” said Mr. King in an officious voice, striding back and forth like he was some kind of general. “Tonight we will see just how far you’ve come along in your . . . training.” He held up a wad of legal papers. “This is a rider to your current contract. In return for offering me your balls to completely destroy, in any manner of my choosing, you will each be given a fourth of the equity in the house you currently live in. After I’ve nutted all four of you, you will own the house outright, and should you choose to sell it, would probably get a cool million each. That property is in a very desirable location and I know some people who’d love to have it for their spoiled children.” He held the contract in front of each boy, to let them get a sense of the possibilities.
“Just think, you could each be millionaires, and never have to work again. All for the small price of giving me your balls. Such a small sacrifice, no? Wouldn’t you all like to be rich?” All the boys mumbled some form of assent.
“And just think of the pleasure you’ll be giving me. How much pleasure I’ll have explode your nuts in the pouch. Or possibly outside it. And I know you want me to be happy, don’t you my little angels?” Barry caressed Alan’s face, gently, as he said this. Alan looked up with wounded eyes and said, “Yes master, we want you to be happy.”
“Good! Now, here is a pen, I want you all to sign so I can start planning your eunuchification.” He put the paper and another fountain pen before them. Slowly, like they were moving through mud, the boys crawled over and signed their names. Darrel actually had a little line of tears dropping onto the floor and then the paper, but he didn’t say anything. Soon they were all back into position, waiting to be punished. Barry walked up to Darrel and crouched. He lifted the boy’s face with one finger under the chin.
“Why so sad, my handsome little soldier? Don’t you realize the gift you’ll be giving me when you sacrifice your balls? It will be like you’re offering up your life to me. For my pleasure, my amusement, and you do want me to be happy? Don’t you?” Barry gently kissed the boy’s lips, making him moan.
“That’s right. You like giving me pleasure, just as I love giving you all the pain you need so badly.”
It was three days of brutal testicle torture for them, with the promise of their castration that coming weekend. On Saturday, they glumly piled into Chase’s van and came over to their master’s house. He’d ordered them to have sex with each other all day Friday, so that they might have some last minute sexual fulfillment. They arrived exhausted, balls swollen and painful, and their attitude fatalistic - by the end of the weekend, they’d all be nutless.
Barry met them at the door, with his traditional gift of water and a Viagra pill for each of them. They dutifully downed them, and got undressed. In the living room the flatscreen TV was showing a brutal video of men and animals being castrated and emasculated. He took them upstairs and the TV in that room was showing a Nazi propaganda movie from the 30’s. Barry had them stand, bend over, grab their ankles, and then beg him to kick, knee and punch their nuts from behind. He naturally obliged, He also used his crop to smack their asses and leave huge welts. Then they turned back around and he smacked their bobbing cocks as hard as he could, cursing at them in German all the while. When they were in the proper, subservient frame of mind, Barry outlined the fate he’d planned for their most treasured possessions.
Watching all of them squirm and moan on the floor, he talked, walking back and forth.
“First,” he said, “I’ll take your manhood, Darrel. You’ll get the easiest treatment. You’ll sit on a wooden chair, naked of course, and I will stand on your balls, in my boots, and you’ll get to feel my weight burst your little eggs like cherries. I can feel them already, rolling around underneath my shoe, trying to escape, but then we both realize that I weight quite enough to crush them, and they audibly burst. You’ll be catatonic, of course, but I’ll smoosh around your ruptured balls in the sack to make you really know you’re balls are history.”
“Then,” he continued, “Todd will be next. Yes, poor, stupid, sweet Todd. I’m going to use this old fashioned press to crush your testicles one-by-one. See,” holding it up, ”I put your egg here, and then I turn the screw from the top and it slowly, ever so slowly, crushes it. I can’t wait to see your eyes when it finally splits your balls at the seams. I’m hoping it will make a ‘popping’ sound, but we won’t know for sure until it’s tested. I’ve never used this particular press before.”
“Next will be Alan.” Barry kicked Alan’s hands away from cupping his stones, and kicked the soft objects. “Listen up, boy!” Barry jabbed the boy’s balls with his booted toe until the redhead stopped moaning.
“Yes, next I’ll take a scalpel and open your scrotum. I’ll fish out your naked balls, and put them in that acrylic box over there. Do you see it Alan? With the two holes? And then I’m going to douse your oysters with alcohol and set them on fire. While they’re still attached to you. Won’t that be fun? I bet you’ll scream up a treat! I can already see your testicles toasting to a golden brown. Like smores. Then I’ll cut them off and eat them while they’re still hot.”
“And finally, to you, dear Chase, I’m going to make you suffer the most, because you’re my favorite.” He picked up something from a shelf, and brought it over, crouching above the wounded boy. “See this, Chase? This is a bottle of glass shards that I’ve collected over the years. I’m going to stick these long, sharp irregular pieces of glass into those little glands you’re holding, and I’m going to grate your balls together until they turn to goo. From the inside! I don’t think anyone has ever used that particular method of castration. We’re pioneers boys!” The sadistic monster looked around the room and beamed. His plans were all so well laid out. The four teens were still lying on the floor in nut-distress.
“And to kick off the weekend, I think I’ll do Darrel right now. Get up off, the floor, SCHNELL!” Darrel did his best to get up off the hardwood floor and he let Barry guide him over to a chair sitting over in the corner. The boy was so compliant Barry didn’t even have to secure his hands first.
Darrel did so.
“Spread your legs!”
“Beg me to crush your balls!”
Darrel gulped. “Master King, please burst my balls,” said the boy, a quaver in his voice. He was sure going to miss being a male. Just as their Nazi torturer was about to stand on Darrel’s goolies, there was a loud bang and the door to the dungeon was kicked in. Standing there was Darrel’s brother Rob, pointing a gun at Barry King.
“Get away from my brother’s balls, you sick motherfucker.”
Barry’s face was a storm of fury at the sudden intrusion. “How dare you stop me! I have every right to damage their goods as I see fit. They’ve signed a contract! I own them!!!!” shrieked Barry, waiving the rider in his hand. “WE HAVE A CONTRACT!!!,” he screamed and he made a sudden move to stomp Darrel’s balls into mush.
There was a loud BANG and Barry fell backwards, a hole in the middle of his forehead.
“Read the fine print, asshole,” said Rob as he blew on the tip of his firearm and holstered it with a twirl, just like a gunslinger of old.
“So, this is where you guys have been disappearing to. Darrel, you look like shit.” Rob said with a smile, and helped his younger brother up. Three other police officers rushed in and helped the other boys get to an ambulance which was waiting outside.
After investigations, it turned out that Barry King, aka Günther Braun, had video tapes of dozens of young men, naked, having sex or getting castrated, and when inquiries were made it was discovered that all the boys in question were missing. Forensics dug up the back yard and found the bones of dozens of people, probably all male, and it seemed the man’s MO was to lure them in with promises of money, and then blackmail them into doing what he wanted. Barry’s vast estate was liquidated and used to repay the dozens of families whose boys were brutally murdered. All except one, the house that Darrel, Alan, Todd and Chase now owned.
It was a month later, they were all at home, balls still intact, lives back to normal when they finally talked about how close they’d come to being victims of a serial killer.
“Yeah, you got us into this, Darrel,” said Alan. “It’s your fault we went over in the first place.”
“Well, it was Todd who agreed about the sex and stuff,” was the defensive reply.
Todd was munching on a sandwich. “Mmmth.” He said, swallowing a mouth full of ham. “But who gave you the best sex of your life?”
Darrel frowned and threw a pillow at Todd.
“I wouldn’t get too uppity, Todd,” said Chase.
“Yeah? Why not?” Todd deflected another pillow.
“Because your cum STILL tastes like hotdogs.”
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