Maikeli

Tommy's Report

1

I don't remember a time when I didn't enjoy playing with myself. Mom didn't mind, I overheard her once telling a friend she thought it was cute. It was step-dad who was always telling me to stop doing it; asking me if I had to use the bathroom. I kept telling him no. I just liked the feeling it gave me, not just down there, but over my whole body.

Mom and I went to my first nude beach in Germany. In America – before step-dad came along – mom would let me go around our apartment nude all the time, but that nude beach was the first time we were nude together outside, and with strangers everywhere! It was the first time I realized a relationship between a vague, surreptitious excitement that came from a display of my body, with an insistent rigidity of my small penis. While I played in the sand, passersby looked at my mom, and I was so proud of her. I would blush when once in a while someone would look me over carefully as well and smile in the same way. But it was nothing like the attention my mom got. I was even a bit jealous of her, I guess. It all changed after mom took a quick trip back to America got arrested at Kennedy airport for having cocaine, and I was left in Germany to live with my step-dad.

Step-dad took me back with him to the Emirate where his boss lived. He had a small guest suite right in the Emir's palace, and the Emir's black servants made our food and cleaned our clothes and room, just like in a hotel. The Emir had two wives, and many, many children. I went to school with the Emir's sons, but never even saw the girls or wives. Step-dad said it was my job to help the boys practice their English. There were seven princes in the schoolroom, ages six to fifteen. The boys about my age or older were dark and handsome and I stood out in my pale blondness. Our tutor was actually a cousin of their father, and the princes were required to respect him, but they could pretty much order the servants about on a whim. My step-dad said they were quite spoiled and warned me that we were both just their servants too, and that I must always try to do as they wished. If I didn't get along with the boys, he said we might both be asked to leave. This was especially so with Tameez, the oldest, who was next to become Emir. Step-dad said to always call him "Your Highness." He had a younger brother, Ijah, light skinned like him, but between them in age was Masud, whose mother must have been African, as he was very dark and had kinky hair, as did all the other princes younger than Ijah.

I missed my mom, and about the only thing that made me feel more at ease was to stroke and tug at my foreskin. The princes didn't notice, or at least didn't complain about it like my step-dad would. Masud became my first friend, he was just a few months older than me but it seemed like much more. Not only was he clever at maths and science, he also had a raspy voice and some wispy black fuzz above his lip that fascinated me. The first week in the harem school I complained of the heat, and after school Masud brought me one of the light, ankle-long kandura-shirts all the boys wore to school and around the palace. He also asked if I wanted help with my maths homework. We both went into my little room and I noticed his curiosity when I took off my buttoned shirt in order to try on his gift.

"What do you wear underneath?" I asked as he held it up and let it tumble out to its full extent.

Masud shrugged, "Whatever you want to wear." He watched intently as I went on to kick off my shoes and slid my jeans down and stepped out of them. I giggled, feeling a little embarrassed when he didn't look away, but his attention gave me that thrill like I had on the nude beach. I felt my penis stirring, so I took a moment to manipulate it through my underpants before reaching out to take the long shirt. He stepped back, grinning. I blushed. Standing in front of him wearing just my flimsy underpants and socks stirred that beach-feeling even more. Masud finally broke the tension by tossing over the shirt. He then set the maths book and paper on the floor. When I sat next to him he snuggled right up to me and put his arm over my shoulder. He was especially touchy-feely, but I didn't mind, and figured the boys here were just more like that than the boys I knew in my old school in New York. Then – without warning – his hand slipped from my thigh right into my crotch and a couple fingers began gently batting at my genitals through my clothes. I giggled nervously and glanced over at him, wondering if he even knew what he was doing, but he didn't look up. He continued explaining the math problem as if nothing else was happening. Suddenly – just when my penis was aching with excitement – he took his hand away, dropped the pencil, and stretched out on the floor, with his hands under his head. His long shirt tented-up – much higher than I expected – I couldn't take my eyes away but I didn't dare reach over to touch it. I absent-mindedly began manipulating my own erection instead.

"So… what would you like to do now?" he asked innocently.

I shrugged in response. Without a word he arched his back and legs, then took hold of his shirt around the knees and began pulling it up, up, up until his own black penis flopped out, maybe twice as thick and long as mine, darker than the rest of him, with two plump brown orbs snuggled up at its base, and twin wispy wings of thin, crinkly hairs sprouting out from either side. The head was entirely exposed and dry – and below it a paler ring of skin and then a blacker stripe. I wondered if black boys had a different kind of penis than white boys did.

"What's wrong?" he asked, giggling a bit.

I shrugged.

"Do you have hair yet?"

I shrugged again, but could hardly take my eyes off the dark pubescent body fully exposed next to me on the floor, nor take my hand away from soothing my own insistent erection.

"Let's see then?" he challenged me.

It seemed only fair, so I eagerly stood up and pulled my new kandura-shirt up over my head, then shimmied out of my underpants, displaying a much smaller, hairless, uncircumcised penis, skin transparent and pale.

"Oh!" he responded, leaning on his side for a better view, "You're not circumcised."

I shrugged, not knowing what he meant.

"We cut that hood off of our dicks, so the head will grow fatter," I froze as he brazenly reached out and tugged my foreskin back off of the head, "and it makes it nicer for sucking, too," he added. It was the first time someone else handled my penis. I was paralyzed, wavering between jumping away and eagerly thrusting it into his chocolate-colored hand.

"Sucking?" I finally asked.

"Sure. Haven't you sucked a penis?"

I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the warm fingers slowly slipping my foreskin back from the slippery head until it slipped behind the notch and left it totally exposed. Confused yet intrigued by this new idea of sucking penises, and the implication in his question that boys – that I – could suck penises. "I've never sucked any penis," I finally admitted.

"You can try sucking on mine then. I'd suck on yours too except yours isn't clean."

"You've got a big one," I admitted to Masud, a bit in awe.

Masud shrugged, "It's about the same size as other boys my age, but yours is pretty small. Maybe you're not growing as fast."

"I'm twelve, aren't you twelve too?

"I'm thirteen, almost."

I got on my knees and bent my head over the dark, exotic penis, but I hesitated at the last moment from letting it into my mouth, deciding to study it intently, concluding the dark ring under is head was the scar left over from when they cut off its hood. The smell was completely new to me. I was curious to try this sucking, and decided his qualified offer to suck on my own – if only it had been properly circumcised like his – was sufficient to defend my actions if later he told the story to his brothers.

"Go ahead!" he urged as he returned to lying on his back, holding his upper body up on his elbows. I took the naked head onto my lips, and giggled nervously, then began sucking on the end like a nipple. "Lick it too," he instructed, so I licked it like an ice cream cone. "Just stroke it with your lips and tongue – but not your teeth!" he explained. He began guiding the back of my head with a hand. "Keep going," he urged unnecessarily. I could study the thin, kinky hairs sprouting out on each side of his deep brown genitals. "Work it harder with your tongue," he demanded. I renewed my efforts, bobbing my head as I slid my tongue vigorously down the underside of his penis, at the same spot below the head where I most enjoyed pressing against my own. For quite a while I worked at stroking his masculine organ, even after a bit of tasteless fluid found its way into my mouth, and suddenly he pushed my head away and stood up. "Thanks Tommy, you're a great cock-sucker. See you tomorrow," he told me, standing up. His already sagging erection disappeared under his shirt. I began missing it the moment it went. My own small penis twitched anxiously.

The next day after school Masud brought his half-brother Ijah to study maths with us. Ijah was the second son of the Emir's first wife. For half an hour we tried to do math problems until Masud suddenly asked me: "Would you like to suck my dick again?"

I blushed, and glanced over at Ijah. "It's alright, Ijah and I used to do stuff like that, too," he explained.

"You did?" I asked, a bit incredulous. Ijah gave me an uncommitted shrug.

"Then his big brother found out and made us stop," Masud reported, as he hiked up his shirt and let his dark erection flop out enticingly. "Do it again for me, will you, Tommy? I really liked how you did it."

I felt myself get hard the moment Masud pulled up his shirt. While I was thrilled to do it again, Ijah's presence complicated the issue. Was he there as a witness for subsequent teasing? Did I appear too eager? But doing it to the dark Masud in front of another boy intensified that gnawing excitement as well. I remembered that my step-dad told me to do as the princes wished, which I decided I could use to defend my actions later. I shrugged and got down on my knees like it was no big deal for me. Suddenly Masud took half a step back. "No, wait," he said, "Take off your clothes again, I like it more if you're naked, like last time."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Com'on Tommy, please. I want you to be naked."

"Why?"

"I liked seeing you naked while you did it," he simply reiterated, and Ijah wants to see your little penis.

I immediately understood that their immediate goals could be similar to mine, "Even my socks?"

"Alright, keep your socks on," he conceded to me, and then he told Ijah, "He's a great cock-sucker."

I really wanted to suck his dick again, and maybe I could get Ijah to let me see and suck his too, but now I was really wondering if they weren't going to play some kind of embarrassing trick on me. "Well alright," I conceded, shrugging again, "but I want to see Ijah's weenie as well." I kicked off my shoes and pulled the ankle-length shirt over my head. I paused a moment to see if Ijah was willing to play along. His face seemed sincere enough, so I slipped my underpants down to my ankles and slid them off, straightened up before the two boys, naked except for my socks, my small, perky erection contradicting my act of nonchalance.

"Don't you care if people see you naked?" Ijah asked.

I shrugged in response. "My mom once took me to a nude beach, where everyone was naked," I told him.

"Isn't that a little dick," Masud commented, pointing out my penis out to Ijah. "And see, he's not circumcised."

"Sometimes it's small, sometimes it's big," I informed them, even if actually it was at that moment its maximum size.

"You go around naked like that in Europe?" Ijah asked me.

"Just some special places, or at home. My mom never made me wear clothes at home." I thought this would make them think being naked was no big deal for me, but actually it was quite exciting to be standing there naked in front of the two boys.

Ijah stared blankly at my crotch, while Masud looked me over appreciatively.

"You gotta do it too," I told Ijah.

"Turn around for us," Masud urged. I slowly turned a full circle, until I was facing them once more, and nervously began to pinch and tug at the head of my penis, which was struggling up against my foreskin. Ijah smiled, reached over to my penis, and I let him take over the task. My penis involuntarily spasmed for Ijah as he slid back the foreskin. Ijah glanced over at Masud and pulled back his hand, a look of concern and caution on his face. Masud thrust his exposed erection at me, an impatient reminder of his immediate desire. I took a tentative step over to Masud and fell to my knees in front of the swaying rod with its naked head. I let the brown virile flesh slip between my lips as Masud's hand pressed against the back of my head. I eagerly ran my tongue and lips over it again and again while my own hand tugged and twisted my own smaller organ just as mercilessly. I let his penis out of my mouth, pressed it up against his body with my lips and stroked and kissed the bottom from tip to base. Then I discovered the twin ovals below, sagging in their hairy sack. I went to work exploring these secondary secrets of fresh masculinity by sight, smell, taste, and feel until the erection sliding over my face could no longer be ignored. I wrapped my mouth around it again and began patiently sucking on it like a teat. Masud sighed as the organ rhythmically spasmed in my mouth. Almost immediately afterwards Masud pushed my head away and let his shirt drop down. I looked up at his face, and then over to Ijah who was watching Masud. Masud was already picking up his books when I looked back to him. "See you tomorrow," was all he said before he left the room. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Ijah looked me up and down and began to giggle. I blushed and covered myself.

"Did you really suck Masud's too?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Want to do mine now?"

"Sure!"

Ijah hiked up his long shirt and pulled his penis out his underpants. While longer and darker than mine, it was just as smooth and hairless, and smaller than Masud's. Otherwise it was mutilated exactly as Masud's, with a similar dark collar around a paler, exposed head. I smiled up at him, and crawled over to it and took it into my mouth. "Wait..." he ordered and when I took my mouth off his organ he laid down opposite me with his head down by my crotch. Getting the idea, I lay down next to him and nervously began sucking again as I felt his warm, wet mouth engulf my excited little organ as well. Both of us lay side-by-side for several breathless moments, slurping and lapping on each other's stiff, immature and most intimate parts. Again and again I tongued and kissed his tight, rigid erection and plump, crinkled companions; while soft, warm, moist flesh slid all around my own most sensitive parts, which buzzed with a localized pleasure. Then the penis in front of me slowly became less and less springy, and I realized that my little erection was cold and neglected. I renewed my efforts, growing frustrated that some sort of final resolution I instinctively longed for was as of yet unobtainable. Ijah too seemed to have given up.

"Did you feel it?" he asked?

I reluctantly pulled my mouth off his limp organ, "Feel what?"

"The tingle," he explained.

"I guess," I replied, shrugging.

"It's nice," he sighed. He picked himself up off the floor, arranged his clothes a bit, waved to me, and left the room.

2

It wasn't many months later when the ruler of some African country visited us, bringing along his teen-aged son Izzat, His Highness Tameez's best friend.

Izzat wasn't actually the first really black person I met. Black, black. Not like Masud and his little brothers. Many of the Emir's servants were as black as Izzat, but they didn't act like him at all. Izzat acted as if he was a crown prince himself. But Izzat was the first really black person I knew that wasn't an adult. That evening Tameez sent one of his little brothers to fetch me, and I walked into Tameez's rooms to see Izzat and him sitting together.

"So you said we could go find some girls." Izzat told Tameez as I entered.

"No, I said I could find you some action."

"And…"

Tameez nodded towards me. "Tommy, I want you to see something, "He turned to his black friend, "Izzat, show him."

"This little white boy?" Izzat rolled his eyes, "You want to scare him?"

"Yeah... show him."

Izzat unbuttoned a fine dashiki shirt. I took a step back when I saw a large, white athletic supporter barely containing the teen's almost cartoonishly large genitals, and stared at the bulging triangle of cloth, biting my lower lip.

"Oh," Izzat began to smile, "Is he one of those?"

Izzat slowly pushed down the elastic band of his supporter until I saw a bunch of kinky little knots of black stubble covering his lower belly and I ran out of the room.

I struggled to get to sleep that night, the image of that impossibly huge penis and balls outlined underneath the white supporter dominating my thoughts as I squeezed and pinched my little erection until it buzzed with pleasure. I finally convinced myself that the display must have been faked, allowing me to finally I drifted off to sleep.

The very next day Izzat met me in the hallway outside of the schoolroom, and apologized, asking if we couldn't be friends. And after school he took me over to his apartment. His rooms were only a few doors away from mine, but they were much nicer, with marble floors covered by fancy rugs, and paintings on the walls.

"Are you staying with your father here?" he asked politely.

"Yes, but he is out of the country."

"Did you know I never really had a white boy for a friend?"

I smiled shyly, "I never really had an African boy as a friend, either."

"What about Masud? He's told me a lot about you."

"Oh well, he's not black like you are!"

Izzat laughed, "Yeah, he's only part African. We should be friends then. Do you like Tameez?"

"Yeah, sure, but Ijah and Masud are my best friends here." I couldn't help but glance down where his crotch should be, but the loose, long dashiki he was wearing completely obscured any hint of its exact location. "We sometimes do our maths together."

Izzat smiled, "I'm no good at maths."

"How long are you going to be visiting?"

"I think just a few weeks. Hey, I brought African dashikis for all the princes, and a few extra. Would you like to have one?"

"Sure! Like what you had on yesterday? Some of the guys wore them to school today."

"Yeah! Come on in, this is my room." Izzat got up and waved me into a bedroom, where two fancy traveling chests waited. He opened one and pulled out a bright green dashiki with colorful embroidery around the hems. "Try it on, see if it fits. Take your shirt off."

I blushed. Just the thought of standing in front of him in bare-chested woke up my penis.

"Go ahead," he urged me on. I turned my back to him and pulled my plain cotton polo shirt over my head. "You look nice," he said to me from behind. "Hold your arms up, and I'll help you put it on."

I dropped my shirt and raised my arms over my head. Izzat gently slid each sleeve over an arm, and guided the neck hole onto my head, then he slowly pulled it down over my goose-pimply body, uninvited he reached around and unbuckled my jeans, pulled down the zipper, and slowly tugged my pants down to my ankles as I stood there frozen. Then he brought a hand back up to brush against my underpants, and without the least hesitation gently stroked my excited little penis through the cloth, then went onto my little ball-sack, jostling it lightly. I stood frozen. His warm breath caressed my nape, while black fingers rose a bit to find and slide between the white elastic of my underpants. I shivered as the warm fingers ran underneath and across my smooth lower belly. "You don't have any hair at all down there?" he asked rhetorically.

I shook my head. He gently pushed the elastic down, letting my penis flop out, while gathering up the cloth of my new dashiki with his free hand, and bent his head over my shoulder to see.

"Well, that's a little one. No one circumcised you?"

"I'm the only boy here like that," I responded proudly.

Izzat gave a little snicker. "How would you know that?" he asked.

"I… well… Masud told me." I heard someone in the hall outside so I immediately tugged up my jeans, stepped away from Izzat and picked up my cotton shirt. "Thank you Izzat," I said, and without thinking I reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the room.

The next morning, when I was leaving for school, I found a matching prayer cap outside my door. And after school, Izzat was waiting for me.

"Is your father around?"

"No, he's in Tokyo, I think. He's just my step-dad anyway."

Izzat nodded, "What were you going to do this afternoon?"

I just shrugged in response. "I was going to go see the horses exercising with Ijah, but I can hang around here too."

"Did I upset you, yesterday?"

"No. Thank you for the dashiki, I like it very much, and the cap."

Izzat smiled, "May I see your room?"

"Sure." I lead the way to the door, and when I stopped to open it, Izzat put his hand on my back, and then let it slide down and rest on my behind. I froze again.

"It's hard now," Izzat whispered into my ear.

"What's hard?" I whispered back as I opened the door.

"My dick," he said smiling. I didn't know how to respond, but I peeked down to see something very big disrupting the outline of his dashiki.

"Here's my room," I announced as I walked in, "There's a picture of my mom."

"She's beautiful, like you." I blushed. Izzat kicked off his slippers, and I did the same. "It's hurting, I have to let it out," he complained, and with no more warning than that he loosened his shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it on my bed, and just as quickly pulled an immense, black penis out of his boxer shorts and sighed. I couldn't help but stare. It was the larger, fatter, and blacker than I had even imagined: darker than the already dark skin of the rest of his body, and surrounded by a large halo of short, tight knots of hair.

"I…wow... it's so big," I conceded, blushing. The fat, black shaft, ramrod-straight, tapered down to a paler, circumcised head, a large vein ran along the top, a pair of huge ball swung below.

Izzat wagged it, grinning. "Come take a closer look. Want to touch it?"

I bit my lower lip. Of course I wanted to touch it, but hesitated.

"Does yours ever get so hard it hurts?" He asked me.

I nodded without taking my eyes off the fat monster, "You trim your hair down there?"

"Yeah, Moslems do that." Izzat waited, then said, "Why don't you let yours out too." He sat on the edge of my bed, pushed his boxers down past his ankles and kicked them away. There he was totally naked and leaning back on my bed: black and muscular, but with that oh-so-big penis swaying out in front of him. His body fascinated me, but especially that huge, mutilated organ. "Don't be shy," he urged.

Magnetically pulled into this strange new game, I giggled and nodded, pulled my gift-dashiki over my head, folded it, and set it neatly on my dresser, then turned back towards him, wearing just my white briefs. I quickly slipped them down to my legs, stepped out, and kicked them aside. Then I stood up straight, and giggled at my own pale, straining erection: a ridiculous miniature compared to his, its head still mostly hiding beneath the foreskin.

"Bring it here!" and I complied. He reached out and ran warm, ebony fingers from the bottom of my nut-sack up to the base of my pale, eager penis. He rapped two black fingers and his thumb around it, engulfing it completely. He then gently retracted the foreskin a few times as I gasped, a pleasure more intense than I could achieve on my own emanating from it.

"It feels stiff. Are you hard?" he asked, surprise in his voice.

"Uh huh, sometimes it gets stiff like that."

He scrutinized it, "It's so small."

"No it's not! My mom says it's cute."

"Oh, I think it's cute too," he reassured me, "I just never saw one so small before on a boy your age, or any boy, really."

He flicked at it a couple times with a single finger. I giggled as it repeatedly popped back into its original position, pointing up at his face like a puppy eager for attention.

He went back to gently batting at my tight scrotum. "Do you like that?"

I shrugged, blushing terribly.

"Do you like showing off your body?"

I only shrugged again, my eyes fixed on the black fingers genially pinching my balls deeper into my sack.

"How old are you?" he inquired, not taking his fingers or eyes off my genitals.

"I just turned twelve last month."

"I'm sixteen," he volunteered, "Masud says you are a good cock-sucker, is that true?"

I hesitated for a moment, "He told you that?"

He only smiled in response. "You like cock-sucking?"

"Sometimes," I giggled, embarrassed, "We take off our clothes, and I kiss his weenie," I confessed.

"Weenie?" he asked, smiling.

I pointed at his huge tool, "I sucked on his weenie, and once Ijah sucked on mine."

"Oh, that's what you call it. Which do you like better, sucking or being sucked?"

I studied his enormous, black tool for a moment. "I like sucking," I admitted, "He likes it a lot when I do it, and I like making him feel good."

"Would you like to suck on mine then?" he asked casually.

Without answering I knelt down between his knees, took over manipulating my own foreskin, but hesitated to take it into my mouth. It was so black and big and hairy. It scared me a little, but Izzat decided the issue for me: cupping the back of my head in his hand and forcing me through the final inches and pressing my lips against the soft, wagging tip. I opened my mouth and took in as much of the black organ as I could handle. Izzat began stroking my hair. I in turn stroked the scratchy, trimmed pubic hair. His big penis tasted acrid and slightly salty.

"That's right, Tommy, you know how, show me the kind of cock-sucker you are." he cooed as I ran my tongue along the ridge of the head and where the dark scar ringed the shaft. The black dick was so big I could hold the base with one hand, and still have enough space left over to put as much into my mouth as could fit. Izzat put both his hands on my head and lay back on my bed.

"Come up on the bed with me," he urged.

I pulled my mouth off the black shaft, "Do you want me to stop already?" I asked him, concerned he had already become bored.

"No, no, just lay alongside me but with your feet up by my head." He rolled onto his side.

I giggled, Ijah and I did this too, so I did as he instructed, and began sucking again. Now I could examine and handle the chubby, sagging testicles in their silky, ebony sack. I expected Izzat to take my penis into his mouth too, but instead he returned to fingering my still eager erection. Maybe he misunderstood when I told him I liked sucking better: I didn't mean that I didn't like being sucked too, but I was in no mood to complain. His other hand migrated to my backside, stroking and gently pinching it. Suddenly he let go and shifted. I could just see from the corner of my eye that he was getting a tube like toothpaste from his discarded shirt pocket, and squeeze some of the contents onto his fingers. He began gently toying with my foreskin once more, but the fingers of the other hand began sliding grease into my crack, running over my tight anus again and again. With every pass my little dick twitched eagerly in his hand. I too reached around and began stroking and squeezing his muscular behind. Now a slick finger concentrated its efforts on just my hole, making small circles deeper and probing into it. Too eager and curious, I decided to stop clinching and let it in. The finger kept going around and around deeper and deeper inside. I was so distracted I stopped licking the fat dick in my mouth. The finger then went deep inside and began stroking me in a completely new and unexpected way, giving me a pleasure like playing with my penis, but new and different. I was so surprised by the intimate touch I shivered and moaned. It was nothing like Ijah's juvenile attempts.

"You like that, huh?"

"Umm hmm," I eagerly mumbled into the black dick while nodding my head.

"More than cock-sucking?"

"Umm Hem!" I responded almost pleadingly.

"OK then, lay on your back, Tommy, and we'll do it right."

I disengaged my mouth from the wet, black knob and obediently lay on my back as he got up on his knees.

"Do what right?" I asked.

He picked up his tube again and spread some more of its contents on the end of his two longest fingers. "Let me get in there, spread your legs…. No. Tuck your ankles up to your… yeah." I grabbed my ankles and held them against my thighs, presenting my ass to him eagerly. Two slick, black fingers drove into my behind, my anus clinched a bit when they went in. "Just relax, now. When I'm done you'll be more than just a cock-sucker." He smiled down at me, and I smiled up at him warily. I could feel his fingers somewhere under my erection, going right back to that same spot.

"Oh!" I closed my eyes, and began stroking my own penis.

He used both fingers on my spot for a few moments, then pulled them out again. I opened my eyes again to see him smearing more of his lubricant all along his fat erection, and could guess what he was planning next.

"What are you doing now?"

"Don't worry," he assured me.

"That one won't fit in my behind!" I warned him. "Even Ijah's hurt when he tried to put it in."

"Ijah doesn't know how to do it right," he answered, smiling at me. Just imagining that huge, black thing going up my behind made me shudder and clinch my ass.

"It will hurt too much," I protested.

"You can't avoid a little pain the first times – but eventually you'll love it. I know how to do it right," he leaned in closer, "I'll teach you how to make a lot of guys feel good this way." The thought of my liking pain both confused and intrigued me. The dark, muscular frame and swaying tool above me dwarfed my own immature, white body and penis. And the feeling that his fingers just gave me – I longed to learn more things: the new pleasure deep inside me, the pleasure of his warm skin against mine, the pleasure of giving my nude body to his pleasure. He ran his dark hands up my white thighs, starting well beyond the tan-line, and wrapped both hands around the inside of my knees. I didn't resist as he pushed them towards my chest until my ankles were high in the air. The heavy, glistening black penis collided with my springy, cheerful erection, knocking it to the side effortlessly. The big, circumcised head then bumped into my tight ball sack, he pulled back a bit more, then pushed the tip of his black tool up against my hole.

"Just relax Tommy. Open up now. Push out little cock-sucker," and just then he pushed the head in, and my anus protested the black, stretching invader.

"Oh, ow! We can't do this."

"Shhh, Shhh. Here we go. You won't be the same after this. Trust me."

"Oh… oh!" I began to shout and flail my arms until he covered my mouth with his hand. It seemed as if a baseball bat had been shoved into my anus, prying it apart. I smelt my own behind on his greasy fingers as I bit against them. He jerked his hand out of my mouth, allowing me to suck in a deep breath and wail out again: "No, you're hurting me!"

"Ouch, damn it! Shut up!" he complained but kept forcing my anus apart with his ogre's black erection.

"Stop! Oh please stop!" I half-screamed before he covered my mouth again.

"You're doing fine, but we got a long way to go. Just keep relaxing! Push out!" I shook my head as much as I could and pleaded with my eyes for him to stop. His face was now inches away from mine, his weight forcing my knees against my chest and my ankles kicking the air above our heads.

Suddenly the door flew open and one of the guards barged into the room. I knew he could see us both naked there, but I hoped he didn't realize that Izzat's penis was deep inside me.

Izzat looked back over his shoulder, "Everything's alright," he reported to the guard, who just snorted in response, still looking at me. I blushed and bit my lower lip hard. The guard backed out of the room, and closed the door.

Izzat leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose with his soft, thick lips. He lifted his hand away a bit to test that I wouldn't scream, then he put his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth, and a moment later pushed his dick farther into me again as I almost yelled directly into his throat. Then he pushed his dick in even more.

"You're the first white boy I ever fucked, did you know that?" he whispered as I clinched his biceps in pain.

"No," I whimpered taking a breath, "You do this to black boys too?" I asked, feeling relieved that at least I wasn't the only boy in the world to get talked into this with him.

"Sometimes. When I can't get a girl, like around here, so this is nice," he admitted.

"He's going to tell on you," I told him.

"The guard?" he just shrugged as if it didn't matter, "Your white ass is so plump and smooth, and your little uncut penis so cute. I never played with one like that before. This is the first time you've really been fucked, isn't it little cock-sucker. And by a black guy no less."

"Isn't this enough? It really hurts," I whined.

"Don't be a baby. I ass-fucked girls that complained less than you." And again he shoved, this time it pushed against that wonderful spot he earlier found for me with his fingers. I shivered and took hold of his shoulder blades. The weight of his body was now pressing my knees into my chest, and my ankles flailed a bit above both our heads. Izzat smiled down at me. "That's better. You can take a little more now?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. You'll like it eventually."

"I don't think so," I conceded.

"Oh, soon you'll like having big, black dicks up your ass, Tommy."

"Alright. Can we stop now?" I asked blinking tears out of my eyes.

Izzat grinned down at me, "We're just getting started!" he pushed it in even farther, "Once I work it in all the way – virgins are so tight – and get your hole stretched, I'll start to fuck you properly, and then the fun really begins."

"Aren't you fucking me now?" I asked pleadingly.

"Just wait. Soon I'll be shoving it in and out as fast as I please. I'll use your hole just like a cunt."

"Why? What's a cunt?"

"Because I like it. You said you like making boys happy." He jammed it in even farther, his bristly public stubble began to tickle my little bag, "a cunt is what girls have to please a guy's dick."

"Will it take long?" I sniffled.

"Just until I shoot my juice in you a few times," he pushed again until he was grinding his pubic stubble into my soft scrotum.

"It still hurts!"

"Push out then. Push it out."

I nodded to him and pushed, which allowed him to sink it in even deeper, but also seem relieve the burning pain.

Izzat smiled down at me, he drew his penis out slightly, only to work it in again. Then he repeated the motion. I kept pushing back desperately. Little drops of sweat appeared above Izzat's lip as he worked, his head bobbed slightly as his dark, hairy hips slowly undulated against my smooth, pale thighs, driving the hard shaft embedded tightly inside me. With each cycle Izzat pulled it out a bit further, and seemingly a bit of my insides with it. He pushed his upper body up away from mine to see what was going on down there, and both of us put our chins against our chests to watch the shiny, ebony shaft appear and disappear between my milky-white thighs just beyond my own, small, half-erection, wagging along in unison with his thrusts. My foreskin had at some point slid back on its own and the head of my eager penis was peeking out. Izzat silently continued his enthusiastic humping as I squirmed, moaned, and bit my lower lip. But I made no effort to push him off me. My hole burned and itched less, and Izzat's stroking of my sensitive spot deep in there competed successfully with the burning pain, making a bid to finally satisfy the longing that had been provoking me for months.

"Do you like this more now?" he asked.

"I like... I like that you like it," I couldn't quite explain to him how it made me feel. "It's not so bad now that it is in." I admitted to Izzat, and cheated by actually bumping my ass up into him a little, to get my special spot against his dickhead while I briefly wiped his sweat and my tears from my eyes.

"Soon you'll be asking for it," he assured me.

It began to retreat away from my nice spot. "No, keep it in that spot Izzat." So he pushed it back in, bumping it hard against my spot while I clung to his shoulders.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes, my hole burns, but farther inside, it makes me feel funny, different..."

"I knew you would come around."

"It's a better now."

"Keep it open, then. You're so tight."

"I'm trying."

"Push out."

"I do!"

"Soon you'll like this more than cock-sucking."

He pulled back and thrust again and again, and each time he hit my spot I whimpered and gripped his shoulders. I kept trying to convince my ass to surrender moment by moment. All I had to do was concentrate on pushing out at the right time and feel the black piston run back into me to taunt my newly found point of erotic focus. He stopped talking and pressed his scratchy cheek against mine and thrust faster and faster, making me and the bed squeak rhythmically. I held the rough kinky hair on his head. The feeling deep in my hole was getting tense and anxious. With every bump to my special spot I responded with high-pitched, little moans.

"Something's happening!" I told him, but he ignored me. "Oh let's stop, Izzat. Oh, oh!" I squealed as a dam broke and a nervous pleasure coursed through my body, from my toes to my nipples. It subsided before I realized it, but then almost immediately it began building up and rolled over me again. "Oh, Izzat! Oh God I'm exploding!" but he only thrust harder. My penis involuntarily jerked and hummed. It felt like maybe I was going to piss on him. I looked down there to see no pee, just a thin thread of clear liquid drooling out of it, and other little globs strung out nearby between our deep black and pale white bellies. I was afraid Izzat had injured something inside me. Then I remembered the time that Masud's penis had released something into my mouth. Izzat began a series of slower, deeper thrusts, then sighed and stopped. After a moment he lifted his head and looked at me again. Sweat dripped off his chin and onto my face.

"Are we finished now?" I asked, "I think you did something to me."

"Yeah, I did something to you alright. Just what you needed."

"Something came out of me."

Izzat looked down with me at my penis, where a thin string of clear fluid hung stubbornly between the tip and his tight belly.

"Looks like you got a little fun as well."

"It really hurt at first, what if I did that to you?!"

Izzat laughed, "With that little tool of yours?! You can't do any serious fucking with that little thing.

We both lay their quiet for a long moment.

"Ah…" he smiled, "That was nice. What time is it?" he asked, then leaned back. That penis finally left my hole with a slight slurping sound. Izzat stood up, looked around, and picked up my underpants. He wiped-up the small spots of glossy fluid from his tummy without a thought, then wiped down his softening dick, leaving my underpants streaked with bloody santorum.

"I'm bleeding?" I asked.

"It's nothing," he responded, grinning. He tossed the underpants at me. I found a clean spot and pushed it up into my hole, and it came out spotted with blood.

"What should I do?"

"You just need a little more breaking-in. I'll find you tomorrow, while the guys are at religious studies. Will your dad be back?" Izzat pulled his own boxers back on, then his dashiki. "Get up, before you get blood on the bed."

"No, my step-dad won't be back for a week at least." I dabbed at my behind with my underpants. "You won't tell anyone about what we did, will you?" I blushed at the thought of it.

Izzat shrugged, "Why not? Tameez at least. Yusuf is probably telling the other guards already!" he grinned.

"Oh, no. Can you stop him?"

Izzat pondered my stained underpants for a moment, "I'll think about it, but get rid of those," he nodded at the underpants in my hand, "no more underpants for you. Just the long shirts. I want you ready for action. And keep your butt hole clean and lubed. All right?" he tossed his tube onto the bed next to me. "Tomorrow at ten ask to go to the library, and I'll meet you there. But no underpants, I want to be in and out fast."

I nodded cautiously as he grinned at me a final time and went out of my room.

I tried to get to sleep that night on the same bed where I was first fucked – really fucked – and where I finally achieved that new amazing, confusing, thrilling feeling I had to have again. It never even occurred to me that I wouldn't go meet Izzat in the library the next morning.

I was hard the whole morning, imagining what Izzat might do next, waiting for ten o'clock and the chance to be excused to the library, and wondering if the other boys could tell I wasn't wearing underpants. I was worried it was going to hurt, but couldn't stop imagining giving my body to him again and letting that flood of pleasure run over me.

The small library room held bookshelves along three walls, and a single table in the center. I sat gingerly on a chair facing the door – my behind still sore and itchy – and stood up the moment Izzat came in. "What took you so long?" I asked. He sauntered up behind me, pinched my behind, slid the chair out of the way, then bent me over the table. "Did you do what I told you?" he asked and grabbed the bottom of my dashiki and slid it up exposing my bare behind. "Good boy! Ready for action. I got other stuff to do, so let's get going."

"What if someone comes in, like before?" I asked, still eying the door.

"We'll just have to work fast," he assured me, "or I'll have to share." I heard him quickly adjust his clothing. Then I felt his penis head was up against my hole. Imagining that we might get caught and I'd be fucked by a random strange man excited me even more. I accepted the risk and opened up again for the black invader.

"Ooooh," I moaned too loud as he shoved it in hard with one continuous motion, right up to my pleasure spot. I was forced up against the heavy table, unable to retreat.

"Shhhh, shhh," He warned me with a chuckle. The table didn't sit perfectly on the marble floor, and the legs went click-clack in time to my quiet grunts as Izzat fucked much faster than the day before. I wanted to keep an eye on the entrance, but I quickly realized I needed to close my eyes and concentrate on Izzat's penis in me, and keeping my hole open for it. I was learning fast how to accept being fucked. I reached out and took hold of the table. It was better and worse than how I had been imagining it all morning. He held my rib cage tight with both his hands, and thrust again and again, the rhythm of pleasure and pain putting me in some kind of dream state. Despite or because of the burning pain I started feeling the tension build. Eventually I felt my penis twitch and buzz and my anus clinch involuntarily against the wide intruder.

"Oh, Izzat…it's happening again." I cooed as the anticipated waves of pleasure broke out over my body.

"Yeah, grab at it," he encouraged me, "Mmmmm." And after a couple slower, half-hearted thrusts, he drew the shaft out of my hole, and quickly tucked it away under his clothes before I could get a fresh look at it. "That's all for now," he announced. I stood straight and let my shirt fall down over my behind, only to find several wet spots on the front. I knew it was my leaky penis again. I would have to run to my room to change before anyone noticed.

"Something came out of my weenie again."

He grinned, "Show me!"

I faced him and lifted my shirt up to my chin. My dick was still standing up, he reached out and took hold of it, a black thumb and finger slid my translucent foreskin back as far as it would go to expose the pale, slimy head.

"Soon you'll be making gobs of that stuff. You should see how much I leave up your ass!"

"I hope I never do!" I complained, wrinkling my nose at the thought of it, "It's messy."

"And you'll get hairy like me, and your dick should grow too, although probably nothing close to mine."

I made a sour face at the thought of crinkly hairs growing up towards my navel like his. Izzat didn't let up manipulating my foreskin.

"I thought you liked my hair! You certainly like big dicks."

"Yeah, on you! I don't want that on me."

Izzat laughed, "Then you won't be a man."

I shrugged in response, "I like being just like I am now."

Izzat gave me a conspiratorial grin, "Then all we'd have to do is get rid of these two little dangles here," he flicked a single black finger across my tight scrotum, "that would put a stop to it."

"Really?" I was sincerely curious.

"I'd do it for you too, except you don't belong to me and I'd get in too much trouble – but if you were in my country... anyway, I'll tell Tameez you'd like that."

"Don't tell him that!" I pleaded, "Anyway, how did you know exactly when I came to the library?"

"Oh, I was watching for you."

"I didn't see you."

Izzat let go of my penis to point up to where the air conditioning came out. "There's a security camera hidden in there."

"Oh," I nodded. "Hey!" I quickly pulled my shirt down. "Someone might be watching now!?"

"I imagine so. I bet Yusuf that you would let me fuck you again when I came in, and told him to watch."

I turned beet red, but imaging one of those guards watching what just happened excited me even as it humiliated me.

"Well, I need to go, some of the guys are going to play football," he announced. He gave my behind a slap and walked out of the room.

3

I hardly ever saw step-dad. He was always off to New York or London or Singapore for weeks at a time, leaving me alone in our little quarters for longer and longer periods. I would tumble out of bed and eat breakfast with the princes, then watch cartoons while they had their religious studies, and joined them again in the harem school for their science, math, and English classes. After several months, it felt like home, and I was speaking more and more Arabic. I hadn't even noticed that step-dad had already been gone for seven weeks when one afternoon after school, Ijah and I found all my things outside our suite. Apparently the servants had cleared them out and boxed them.

The head servant, an obese black man with a childish voice, told me that my step-dad "disappeared" after His Majesty discovered some irregularities in his accounts. Ijah and I took my own few things back to his room and we slept together in his bed that night. Ijah begged his big brother to find out more about what happened, and if I would be staying on in the palace.

"Ijah, Father says Tommy has to go." Tameez reported back the next morning before school as Masud, Ijah, and I finished our breakfast.

"Can't we give Tommy a job?" Ijah asked.

"No. The only new outside servants he would ever consider taking on are eunuchs,"

"What's a eunuch?" I asked.

Tameez grinned, "It's a boy who's had… a small operation."

"He'd be a good eunuch," Masud suggested, giggling, "I wish we could casterate him."

"They work mostly on the women's side of the palace. You've seen them around," Ijah told me.

"I guess I could do that job," I said, not even sure what they did in the palace. "What's the operation? Casterate?" I asked curiously.

"Take away your balls, Tommy, so your voice won't change like other boys and you won't get a beard, either.

I nodded knowingly, "Izzat told me about it. He even said he'd like to casterate me, but he'd get into trouble if we did it here."

Tameez laughed, "He did?! Back where he lives he can get away with anything."

I started thinking of the old black men with their high voices, "His Majesty would let me stay then, if I had that operation?"

Tameez shrugged, "Father says it's time I find a personal servant anyway, and a real eunuch would be cool, but it's hard to find anyone to even make eunuchs anymore."

"You'd be the first new eunuch here in a long time." Masud added, giggling.

"Would it hurt?"

Tameez shrugged again, "I don't think Moslems are even supposed to make eunuchs. But we can ask our cousin Karin about it. He'd know how to do it. And we can even let Izzat do it if he wants to – he's not a very serious Moslem."

"Is your cousin a doctor?"

"Yeah, he knows how to do that operation, and his mother's father was a doctor from Germany, too. Came here to live here a long time ago, to hide from the Jews, and married my grandfather's sister," Tameez explained to me, "But it's time to go to class now."

A week later a guard came and picked up Tameez, Izzat and I to drive us into the country. Their father the Emir owned several farms and we were headed for one of them to help out. Izzat and his entourage were leaving the next day. We all got out near a large corral half full of baying goats. "Tommy!" Tameez beckoned me, "This is our cousin Karin I told you about."

"Who?" I asked.

"Dr. Karin! Our cousin who knows how to make eunuchs," he told me out loud. I blushed as Izzat winked at me and the big, black security guard who was driving us, smirked. I somehow knew this guard was Yusuf, the same security guard who Izzat had wagered with. I remembered the exchange Tameez and I had about eunuchs. I immediately felt my penis stir awake, trying to imagine what being a eunuch servant would be like.

I smiled politely to the doctor. At Tameez's direction, we surrounded and lassoed a young goat, pulled it out from the herd and brought it over to Dr. Karin. He reached between its hind legs and gently fondled its ball sack. My erection ached under my pants as he conducted his preliminary exam. He looked up and smiled approvingly at me. I began pursing my lips nervously, looking over at the other boys' excited faces. Then he reached into a satchel and pulled out a device with handles like a pliers but with a long, exotic jaw on its working end.

"Do you know what that is?" Tameez asked me.

"No, Your Highness." I answered nervously.

"It's called a Bur…" Tameez began, but hesitated.

"Burdizzo." Dr. Karin told us.

You squeeze the top of their sacks with it, and it cuts the cords to their nuts from the outside," Dr. Karin explained and then handed the tool to me. "Squeeze the handle as hard as you can," the doctor suggested. With both hands and some effort, I was able to make the device click at the end of the closing motion. Izzat leaned in to watch the mechanism work. "You're a strong boy!" the doctor told me, taking back the tool. "I work the cords to one side, like this…" Dr. Karin kneaded the top of the small goat's scrotum until he was pinching something against one side, as Ijah and Masud held its legs. Then he opened the device and slipped it half over the bit of skin just above where he was holding it. "Make sure the notch is well beyond the cords," he said more to Izzat than to me. He gently closed the device, forced the handles together, and held them there for a long moment. The kid baa-ed mournfully and unsuccessfully tried to kick its legs out from the boys' firm grip. "That's it! He'll be castrated once you do the other side," he announced as he released the tool. I watched enthralled as the doctor slid his fingers over to the other side of the scrotum, and handed the tool to Izzat. The goat continued bawling. Izzat then slipped the jaws over the other side of the kid's small, hanging balls. The doctor gave a nod and Izzat – with the tip of his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth – again forced the jaws together until we all heard that ominous, dull click. "Count slowly to ten, and that's it!" the doctor announced, nodding approvingly to Izzat. The boys let go of the goat's legs, and Tameez led the goat outside the corral gate, and loose to find its mother. It bounded away, running over to be as close as possible to the main herd. Already Tameez and Izzat were off trying to cut another young kid out of the group.

"Why do you do that?" I asked the vet.

"The gelded goats will be more docile and obedient – they'll grow up more like, like… little boys than like men." Karin explained. "Their meat will taste better, and they won't be able to breed. We only keep the very best for breeding."

I nodded, trying to imagine what it felt like for the young kids. For several hours we all worked, Izzat castrating goat after goat. It was late in the morning and getting unbearably hot when we finally gelded the last one. Hot and sweaty, smelling of goats, we all climbed back into the truck and headed back to the palace. The guard drove us up to the soccer field, where the younger princes were playing, along with two unfamiliar black boys. They asked us to join in, reforming the teams. Izzat and Masud declared themselves co-captains of the All-Africa team, while Tameez formed the light-skinned boys into the All-Arab team. The dark boys immediately took the lead, and Izzat announced that the winning team would get a prize, from Tommy. Tameez conceded the game at 4-0 and we all went into the locker room, undressed, and took showers.

I remembered the first time I took a shower with the boys. My penis immediately stood up and they teased me about how small it was and if it liked boys more than girls. But it wouldn't stop standing straight, and after a while I didn't care about their teasing anymore. It was worth it to see all their circumcised penises: their different sizes and colors, the different amounts of hair around them, how they bobbed and swayed as they moved around the locker room. I noticed that sometimes theirs got stiff also. So I was always looked forward to shower time. But this time when I came back to the lockers, still stealing a peak at the new boys, Dr. Karin and the guard who drove us to the pasture were waiting for me.

"Tommy is it?" Dr. Karin asked, "Just jump up on this bench here, boy," he motioned to one of the long wood benches that paralleled the metal lockers. I obediently climbed up on the bench, which made me as tall as the driver, and even a bit taller than Tameez's doctor-cousin. "So let's take a look," he said, tugging on my towel. I reluctantly let it go, and Karin pulled it away and dropped it onto the bench, letting my hard penis wag out in front of him. Izzat snorted, and all the younger boys began looking over to us, curious as to what was going on. Dr. Karin smiled politely at my small erection, then reached out and took gentle hold of my balls with his thumb and forefinger. I bit my lower lip as he gently tugged at them and shuffled them back and forth with his fingers. "His testes are alright. The penis is much smaller than average, but that happens sometimes, no abnormalities…" After a moment he looked directly to Izzat and shrugged. "They've dropped low enough but are still sleeping, though not for long I guess." Still gently rolling my little nuts in his fingers, he went on: "There's nothing unusual really, except for the penis size. I can give you some tablets for him too, but I don't want to get any more involved myself." Dr. Karin explained as he pulled two brown, plastic pill bottles out from his bag.

"Well, there's no time like the present!" Izzat suggested to Tameez.

"Right now?" Dr. Karin asked him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Izzat responded, and All-Africa won the game."

"Yeah, the black boys won!" Masud agreed.

"Can I come watch?" Ijah interrupted. He too was apparently in on the plans.

"Sure," replied Tameez as Dr. Karin gave him his tool bag, then shrugged to Yusuf.

"What are you guys planning?" I asked Masud.

"Izzat decided we can't wait much longer if we are going to casterate you, so our father will let you stay here." Masud announced, smiling reassuringly. "Father promised Tameez he could choose a personal servant soon, and we figure he'll feel much better about keeping you around once you've been properly casterated. It was Izzat's idea."

"Not really," Izzat retorted, "It was more Tommy's idea, he told me he doesn't want to be all hairy and have goop come out of his little weenie thing."

My mouth dropped open and I quickly covered my crotch. "You mean you're going to clamp my peanut now? Like the goats? I'm not sure anymore."

The guard Yusuf snickered again.

"Let's get some clothes on you then," Izzat answered me. "Karin has a workroom over in the stables, we can decide there." My head spun as I thought about the newly gelded goats running around the corral; how casually Izzat altered their masculine destinies. And now it was my turn. I numbly took my gym clothes out of my locker and quickly slipped them on. Could I be castrated just as casually? Just like one of their farm animals? I shuddered, even as I couldn't help but fantasize about it – and about Izzat doing it. Dr. Karin was watching me intently from the other side of the locker room, but I didn't dare defy Izzat and appeal to the adult to put an end to the boys' plans. Masud and Ijah waited for me to dress, as the other boys drifted away. I was scared, but my erection still strained in anticipation while I dressed in front of them. Tameez left too, saying he was off to get everything ready.

Ijah put his arm over my shoulder as we walked across the grassy lawn with Masud, ending up at a holding-pen for horses attached to the vet's workroom at the end of the racehorse stables. Tameez must have heard us come in, as he peeked into the door and whispered a couple words to Masud before closing it again. Masud pointed to my shorts and flicked his finger down twice, gesturing for me to disrobe again. Nervously I pulled my T-shirt over my head, kicked off my sneakers, pulled my socks off, and finally wiggled out of my shorts and underpants in one motion. For a brief moment I made a half-hearted effort to hide my wagging erection, but then looked up at the two boys I had first fallen for when I came to live in the Emirate, and decided to let my hands fall to my sides, while giving them both a half-hearted, embarrassed smile. Ijah looked genuinely concerned, but resolved. Masud on the other hand was making no effort to hide his own hard-on tenting up his shorts. Ijah opened the door and gestured for me to go through.

The vet's workroom in the stables was simple enough: cinderblock painted white, two rows of bright florescent bulbs hanging naked from the ceiling, a stainless steel examination table and some gray metal cabinets. A large mirror took up much of one wall. Tameez and Izzat were waiting there for me, along with Masud's younger brothers, as well as the two new black boys – in short Izzat's entire 'All-Africa' soccer team. Tameez was pointing a camcorder at me. The new boys giggled at my nakedness. I got more nervous and covered up as best I could. Masud was blocking any retreat back into the holding pen. Yusuf the guard was there to oversee everything from a stool in a far corner, but Dr. Karin was nowhere to be seen.

"What are those other boys doing here?" I asked Tameez.

Izzat smiled and waved me towards him.

"They were part of the All-Africa team too, remember? And when I told them what we were going to do, they didn't believe us." Izzat replied tersely.

"Where'd they come from?" I asked.

Izzat asked them something in another language, and they replied, grinning.

"From my country. Their father is one of the new gardeners."

"They've never seen a boy being castrated," Izzat added, as if that fact would make some difference. I tried to casually keep a hand out in front of my erection, but with a quick flick of his wrist, Izzat gestured it aside, and I reluctantly complied. "I thought it would just be us guys, is all," I responded quietly. My erection twitched nervously when I noticed Izzat already had Dr. Karin's castrating tool in hand.

"Ready then?" Izzat told me more than asked me.

I shrugged, starring at the shiny metal tool. "Won't it hurt?"

Tameez shrugged, "I guess, a little. The goats didn't seem too bothered, but we got some pills from Karin." Masud took the liberty of reaching over and holding my erection up against my belly. "Not even circumcised," he commented to the camera.

"Can't the doctor do this?" I asked hesitantly.

"He didn't want to," Tameez conceded, "Good Moslems aren't really allowed to do it," he told me after giving a mildly disapproving glance to Izzat, "but once we get you properly gelded, father may change his mind about keeping you around, and if he doesn't, Izzat says you can live with him in Africa. Anyway, Izzat knows how now. He practiced on dozens of goats."

"So, your cousin is sure it's okay?

"Oh sure. You were there! When Dr. Karin was a boy we had even more eunuchs in the palace. He's happy to help us get a new one."

"Let's have a smile now!" Izzat enthused, "We put a lot of planning into this, Tommy. It's what you wanted, and I have to leave tomorrow."

I gave him half an attempt at a smile, and then looked over to my friends with a more sincere effort. Both Ijah and Masud sighed nervously. The two new boys were gawking and I realized anew that I was the only naked boy in the room.

"Now I'm just going to give you a couple of these pills to dull any pain, and another to stop infections. Karin said you'll have to take one of each these pills twice a day for a while."

He gave me two bottles of pills, and I took out one of each and swallowed them, and handed the bottles back." Take another one of the pink ones, Tommy, just this once – they are the pain killers." I took a second pink pill and then gave the bottles to Ijah. Izzat pulled up a milking stool, and sat down in front of me while the other boys formed a half-circle around us. Masud had me hold my penis up out of the way, exposing my waiting sack and Tameez brought the camera in closer. I watched as Izzat set his thumb and forefinger at the center of my sack, just below my erection, then began to press and roll the cords he found there. I immediately took half a step back in response to the strange feeling of someone else's fingers there.

"This isn't going to work if you can't hold still," Izzat complained.

"Blindfold him?" Masud suggested, frowning at me.

Tameez let the camera down from his eye, "No, but don't you have to do it from behind, just like with the goats? That way he won't see it coming." Izzat agreed and patted the steel table. "Lean on the table, Tommy, just like in the library," Izzat ordered with a nod to the large stainless-steel examination table. Then, without showing any embarrassment, he reached his hand into his shorts and adjusted his own obvious erection, "And no more fidgeting, understand?"

I nodded and did just as he said, turning away from them to see all our reflections in the large mirror on the wall: the princes in their matching soccer shorts and rugby shirts, the gardener's sons in faded t-shirts and old shorts. I bent over the tabletop, taking hold of the far edge, my concern growing. Was Izzat actually going to castrate me just like one of those goats!? I couldn't quite believe or understand it all. I imagined how it might look afterwards, how Tameez and his brothers would treat me, would the new boys watching tell anyone, or what that big, black guard Yusuf might tell the other adults in the palace.

"Masud, Ijah; go around and hold his arms," Tameez ordered, and Masud came around to my face, suddenly giggling.

"What's so funny?" Tameez asked.

"I have an idea," Masud responded. He pushed down his shorts just far enough to let his own dark brown erection flop free. "Here you go Tommy!" he said as he took my chin in his hand. I looked up at his big grin. "Open up and forget about what's going on back there," he suggested, eagerly pushing the head of his penis up against my lips before I even had a chance to open up. Masud slid his warm penis in along my tongue while he took both my wrists in his hands and held them against his sides. His few short, black pubic hairs tickled my nose. I could still taste the soap from the showers on it.

"Tommy, spread your feet," Tameez ordered. I felt fresh air caress the dampness around my inner thighs as I spread my legs. "Some more…. More. Touch your toes against each table leg." I obeyed as best I could while I rolled my tongue around the head of Masud's hot organ. Someone again fondled my ball sack and its contents. If I were going to back out, I'd have to do it now. But I just closed my eyes and concentrated on Masud's familiar dick probing the insides of my mouth, putting my faith in Dr. Karin's approval and my friends' plan to allow me stay in the palace, wanting to show how obedient I could be.

After a long moment just sucking on the hot dick, I felt a couple fingers roughly jammed against the top of my sack and again finagle and roll the sensitive connection at the top my left nut, then my right. "Hold still!" Tameez ordered when I flinched at the unexpected sensitivity there.

I mumbled a brief complaint onto Masud's penis as those clumsy fingers poked around at the top of my balls, making me feel increasingly uncomfortable and vulnerable. I began to think I shouldn't be going through with it, but would also feel ashamed if I backed out at this late moment, after Izzat made all the arrangements. And I guessed how disappointed he would be. I wondered if the new boys would think me a sissy for trying to back out now. So I welcomed the distraction of giving pleasure to Masud's taught shaft filling my mouth and waited, just tried to relax and submit to this new experience they were obviously so eager to accomplish. I hoped it wouldn't hurt as bad as when Izzat first shoved in his fat shaft. Then the cold metal of the device slid up against the most intimate parts of my inner thighs and I couldn't help but focus back to what was happening there. I flinched as I felt the bit of my flesh they had sectioned off clumsily worked into the gap between the jaws. I pulled away from Masud's dick just long to complain: "Hey you guys, be careful."

"Oh, alright Tommy," Izzat responded, and then snickered a bit.

"Tell me what's going on?" Masud insisted, his raspy, half-boyish voice cracking, "He's already fidgeting and I don't want my dick in his mouth when you clamp him!"

"What?" Izzat protested, "He's sucking you?"

"Yeah, weren't you listening?"

"I thought you were joking," Izzat said after a laugh.

I figured it was just about over and so far not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. "Is that the first one?" I asked. They probably wouldn't let me back-out now, even if I asked. Masud shoved his penis back into my mouth.

"Hang on..." Izzat advised me briefly "... not yet."

"Maybe you boys should use these." I heard Yusuf suggest, and wondered what he was referring to. I heard the new black boys volunteer and then felt plastic zip ties pulled tight, gripping each of my ankles up against the cold metal of opposite table legs. My legs were secured so far apart that now only my big toes were just scraping the floor.

"You got'um? Good you two came along to help," I heard Tameez encourage the guests. Masud drew his penis out of my mouth, tucked it back into his shorts, reach across my naked body to take a couple nylon zip ties.

"We really going to do it?!" he asked Izzat eagerly as he handed one to Ijah, and the two boys each grabbed one of my wrists, pulled them to opposite ends of the table and attached each to the top of opposite table legs.

In the mirror I could see Tameez again, pointing the camera right at my face, and Izzat's white, smiling teeth, both his deep ebony arms reaching down behind me. Fingers were rolling the skin along one side of my sack. Then Tameez pointed the camera down between my legs.

"Sure! Why wouldn't we?" Izzat reassured Masud. Fingers then reached further into my crotch to bat at my erection. "You know he's even got a hard-on about it?"

"Let me get a picture of it then," Tameez announced, and everything paused for a long moment.

"Everyone ready?" Izzat finally asked looking around. I could see Masud nodding affirmatively, "Alright, let's do it, then!" he agreed, and I heard the others eagerly affirm their assent, and finally Tameez asked "Why not I guess. He seems to want it."

I caught sight of Izzat smiling at me in the mirror. I assumed he was waiting for my final acquiescence, but instead of acknowledging me, he just glanced down to where his hands were. A cold, metallic pinch at the top of my right nut almost immediately exploded into a screeching jolt of unbearable pain. I could only renew a scream as Izzat coolly continued to force the jaws closed. Masud spoke to Ijah in a voice hardly above a whisper: "We're really doing it!" I took in another deep breath to scream out again, before having the presence of mind to try to push myself up off the table. I arched my back, but my hands were useless: too far away from my trunk to gain any leverage.

"Hold him down!" I heard Izzat order as I quickly sucked in a breath before letting go with still another scream. I struggled in vain to kick away the strips gripping at my ankles to the table legs as the pain blocked out every other thought. The gardener's boys held my legs down. My head cleared enough for me to moan, "No Stop! It hurts!" and the pain subsided just long enough for me to realize that fingers were already manipulating my sack on the other side. I couldn't even imagine it all happening again. "No! Izzat. Please stop," I choked out.

"One down," Izzat announced between my pleas, "Stay still, Tommy, just one more to go."

Masud complained as he walked around the table, "Let me see. Why's he screaming so much?"

"I guess the pain killers take a while to work," Tameez answered, "Maybe we should stop..."

"Yes... Please… let's...stop… Izzat!" I choked out between sobs, "I don't... wanna... be a... eunuch... now."

"Don't be a baby!" Izzat responded tersely, "We're almost there!"

"Don't stop," Masud demanded, "Casterate him!"

"We got him tied down and already got one. We gotta finish, we'll never be able to talk him into this again, and he's already twelve." I heard Izzat tell Tameez.

"We're not stopping now," Masud announced confidently, "I'll do the other one."

"No... please stop." I whined.

"Let me place the tool, and you can squeeze it." Izzat told Masud.

"Cool! I'll casterate him!"

Even as he spoke I could feel the hard, cold metal of the gelding tool shoved between my soft thighs again, with every little tug and bump of my sack sending renewed waves of screaming pain out from the first injury. I glanced up into the mirror to see through my tears that Izzat now had the camera, and Masud's hands were now reaching between my legs. I tried again to pull my ankles out of the straps and the tight grips of the gardener's boys, without success.

"Keep it in there – don't let the cords slip out," Izzat counseled. The jerking and jostling continued to send waves of pain so intense I couldn't do anything but moan and gasp.

"I think it's right," Masud told Izzat. He twisted my peanut one last time then sent a completely new wave of gut-wrenching pain out from my crotch. I made one final half-hearted attempt to pull my arms and legs from the ends of the table, and failing miserably, just went limp and choked on a sob, resigning to the fate Masud and Izzat choose for me. I arched my back and cried out in utter helplessness as the second wave of crushing pain eclipsed the first as Masud forced the jaws together.

"Make sure it clicks!" Izzat nearly shouted over my wails. I interrupted one to start a new, final howl as Masud held the jaws together while he counted to ten in Arabic, the pain redoubling as he waited. Finally Masud tugged the tool off my sack….

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it." I heard Izzat tell me, and felt a hand gently patting my bare behind, I opened my eyes and wiped tears away, only then realizing that Ijah was no longer in front of me, and my hands were free. I must have fainted for a moment. I lifted my head up to see the gang in the mirror, choking back a final sob and blinking away tears. But the pain had become detached and distant. Masud was humping me from behind as Tameez pointed the camera. I hung my head over the end and looked under the table top to see that my penis was now just a wrinkled little nipple, exposing a puffy, swollen sack, the top third already purple-blue, but still nearly normal in size, and no blood. I quickly wiped my nose on my shoulder. The pills they gave me were finally beginning to make everything feel distant and unimportant. The strange, new boys gave me embarrassed, yet satisfied smiles. Only Ijah seemed a little concerned. I sniffed helplessly, blushing, still the only one in the room naked, now under the gaze of those who had just castrated me. It was embarrassing but I was also so relieved it was over, and the drug seemed to chase the pain farther and farther away from me.

Suddenly my whole lower groin again throbbed briefly in protest, and I buckled a bit. Then another wave of pain emerged out from my foggy, distant body.

"I think you got both of them, his whole sack is turning blue," Tameez announced. He patted the grinning Izzat on the back, "but if either is still there in a month, we'll just do it again."

"Nah, we gelded him. Good job!" Izzat told Masud.

"I didn't know... it would hurt... so much!" I complained, choking back sobs.

Izzat laughed, "We didn't either. You sure howled!"

"I'm really dizzy," I complained.

"We need to give Tommy a new, Arabic name: 'Abdul' something," Tameez told Izzat, "'Abdul' means servant."

"…Or slave," Masud interjected, breaking his rhythm momentarily.

"I'm a slave now?" I asked, incredulous. But the drug they gave me seemed to make the whole situation insignificant – even a bit humorous.

"'Abdul…. Ghaffer,' I think," said Tameez, "because we let him stay here even after his father stole money from us. 'Slave of the Forgiver' or just 'Abdul' for short."

Izzat looked my naked body over, and smiled with apparent satisfaction. I wiped my eyes again.

"I didn't know it would hurt so much," I complained again, but half-heartedly now, as if it were no longer important.

"The pill must be kicking in. He's alright," Izzat assured everyone with a shrug. "Maybe boys feel more pain than goats. Anyway, I've never castrated a white boy before, and I'm really horny." I felt someone pinch my behind, "What do you think Abdul-Gaffer, shouldn't those who geld a boy be the first to fuck him afterwards?"

"I don't know..." I murmured, unconcerned.

"Just relax, Abdul, Masud is fucking you now."

"You're last Izzat," Masud announced, "You'll stretch him out for the rest. Let the smaller ones go first."

"Oh, not right now, I don't feel like doing that," I protested mildly, the room began to swirl and rotate. But I couldn't focus my mind on resisting, or on anything else.

Izzat just laughed, "You just relax, Abdul. It'll be fun." I looked into the mirror to see that Masud was holding his shirt under his chin, fucking me; while one of the gardener boys was rubbing lube onto his hairless, circumcised erection – nothing like Izzat's monster but still dwarfing my own. Masud's hairy balls jiggled enticingly. I had an urge to cup his sagging, dark balls in my hand, and tried to stand up straight, but my ankles were still tied down to the cold table.

Izzat watched Masud step away from me, "Alright, then let your new guests go next." Izzat gestured to the two grinning black boys who we first met on the soccer field.

"Who's next?" Masud looked around. Without any further prompting, the younger of the two boys shyly pushed down his shorts and let flop out a black, crudely circumcised erection poking out from a few unruly black hairs. Masud generously pointed out my ass hole for him. I let my anus go loose and maybe felt the head wedge it open and slide in, or maybe just imagined it.

"He's hot inside, and tight," The boy excitedly told his All-African teammates, who were waiting eagerly.

"Fucked a white boy before?" Izzat asked.

"I never fucked anyone before!" the boy responded as he pumped me frantically. Izzat laughed, "Nice, isn't it."

The boy grinned and nodded at Izzat for a brief moment before concentrating again on my behind.

"Will this be your first fuck too?" Izzat asked the boy's brother.

He shrugged, and pointed to his brother, which made the boys laugh.

I must have fallen asleep again...

The drug had taken full effect, and I giggled as I again looked in the mirror to see Izzat pushing up against me in short attacks, rocking me back and forth against the table. I had often fantasized about giving my body over to Izzat's pleasure – and the distant throbbing between my legs reminded me that my submission to him again ended up being much more complete than I could have imagined. Hanging onto my hips with both hands, Izzat began a rhythmic pull back and thrust, pull back and thrust.

"Com'on now. Don't just lie there, give it a squeeze when I'm going in," he complained.

"I'll try," but I couldn't keep my attention on anything for long. Izzat and I settled into a long period of silent thrusting and squeezing, and the anesthetic made it all feel somehow distant and unimportant. The room was spinning around, so I just closed my eyes and occasionally – when I thought of it – pushed out against the intruder. I wasn't sure if all the other boys had their way too. I could barely remember someone gripping my pelvic bone and thrusting fully from knob to pubic hair, knob to pubic hair, knob to pubic hair. To distract myself from the dull ache struggling out from the numbness of the anesthetic, I imagined submitting myself to the thrusting probes. And then it all came to a stop. Most of them had left the room.

"There're so dark," I heard Ijah whisper.

"'Cause they're dead now," Tameez responded. At some point someone had freed my ankles.

"Those new boys took forever. Who invited them?" Masud complained.

Finally it was only Ijah helping me put my shorts and shirt back on, and guiding me back to my room.

The next morning my balls hurt so badly, as well as my behind, so I took one of the pills before I went to school. I had to walk gingerly in order not to jostle my balls, so I was one of the last ones to arrive. The princes all smiled and glanced at each other when I came into the classroom: all but Tameez, who had gone to see Izzat off at the airport. I sat down gingerly, holding my legs far apart. I just concentrated on not being noticed. Just one pill was all it took to make the pain a mere distraction. The teacher called me up to the board to do a problem. I was so slow getting out of my desk he had to shush the boys' giggling. I did the problem incorrectly of course, but didn't care. When I went back to my desk, I turned around to see that all the boys except Ijah were grinning at me. I couldn't feel my balls anymore, just the echoes of the bite of the tool, but I could feel the swollen sack crowding up against my legs when I walked or sat down.

After a few days my sack shrank back to normal size again, but it remained a dark purple. Tameez said it was because there was blood inside. But they didn't stop shrinking until maybe a month or two later, when they were nothing but two shriveled ridges of skin under my penis, not much different than how they looked when I was really cold.

4

After about six months all that remained of my balls were a couple ridges of wrinkly skin on either side of the line that went down the center of my sack. On each side were two barely discernible welts their burdizzo tool had left on the skin. And by that time a dozen or so soft, pale hairs grew out from around the base of my penis, while small, soft lumps also began to puff out my nipples. I didn't like those hairs and shaved them off every few days, but I couldn't do anything about the lumps.

The moment Tameez discovered the little lumps under my nipples he grew friendlier towards me. He had my things moved to a room next to his own, and I began to take on more and more of his daily chores. After he left for morning prayers I had to make his bed, clean his bathroom, and bring his clothes to the laundry room. Thursdays I used a safety razor to shave his pubic hair, which he had to do for his religion, but which always ended with me taking his penis into my mouth. In the evenings it was my job to get him ready for bed. One night he ordered me out of my clothes and told me he wanted to see how I was coming along. He ran his eyes up and down my naked body twice, then gently reached up to fondle my now sensitive nipples, which made both of us erect – I could see his organ poking against his pajama bottom.

"You like this, don't you," he told me, after glancing down at my erection.

I shrugged and giggled before I reached down and began tugging my foreskin back slowly, "I cleaned my behind carefully before my evening chores," I informed him.

"Oh? You want some fucking then? Does rubbing your titties make you want some fucking?"

"Yes, a little," I almost whispered. I was a bit embarrassed by the two feminine lumps developing under my nipples, but let Tameez turn me around and cup them from behind, while kissing my neck. I felt his penis poking at my bare behind. After that night I began almost every night there in Tameez's bed, submitting to his will until he found release and sent me back to my own little room. But more often than not I imagined what it would be like to have Izzat's big, black monster forcing its way into me once more. So when Tameez told me I could go along with him to visit Izzat, I could barely wait.

It was about nine months after my gelding when Tameez's father arranged for us to visit Izzat in Africa. We flew in our own little jet airplane: just Tameez, Yusuf (Tameez's favorite bodyguard) and me, along with the Emir and all his servants and advisors. Tameez suggested I wear a particular outfit for Izzat: khaki shorts and white polo shirt, short socks and sneakers. The shorts were getting too short. I kept feeling the urge to pull down them down in the back to cover my bottom, and so tight across the front that I couldn't disguise the feminine flatness my small penis couldn't adequately disrupt. Between those short shorts and the little bumps under the shirt, I was afraid I looked like a girl. But I decided not to eat the day before we got on the jet, wanting to be clean and ready for my reunion with Izzat.

Izzat's home country wasn't nearly as fancy as what I'd grown used to in the Emirate. I couldn't help but notice the pairs of beefy, black men and their sub-machine guns patrolling the airport. From the big SUV we took from the airport I could see it was a much poorer country. The streets were littered, people still used horse carts, and sometimes I could see little kids running naked in the street. Even the presidential palace was a bit shabby. Izzat greeted us at the door, giving us all sweaty hugs and kisses on our cheeks. He told us the air-conditioning was being fixed, and suggested we move on to his favorite swimming hole. Yusuf reluctantly took charge of moving our baggage into to the palace as Tameez, Izzat, and I – guarded by a couple of big, black body guards with machine guns – took off again in the SUV.

"My swim suit's in my bags!" Tameez announced suddenly once we were on the road.

Izzat waved his hand dismissively, "I brought along a couple trunks."

Maybe a dozen boys and young guys of various ages were relaxing or playing in the lazy river water just outside of a large military barracks. I got my first long-desired glimpse at Izzat's huge penis as he and Tameez changed into their trunks. Izzat noticed my gaze and winked at me. The guards had already slung their guns on their backs and went to look over the area. We all tumbled out of the vehicle, Tameez and Izzat in their black cotton shorts, I was still in the same short pants and polo shirt I wore onto the jet. The bigger boys already in the water were dressed in a variety of shabby shorts and underpants, while most of the boys my age and younger were swimming naked.

I sat down in the shade of a dwarf palm while Tameez and Izzat ran splashing into the river. Immediately the local boys noticed both Tameez and me, being the only light-skinned people around, but especially with me with my blond hair. I was content to watch all the naked boys and near naked young men for a long while.

"Everyone is asking why you aren't swimming!" Izzat finally shouted at me from the water.

"I don't have a suit," I shyly responded.

"Boys your age don't need suits," he said laughing. "I know you aren't so shy!" he told me, while waving for me to come join them in the water.

I just shrugged.

"Come! Come!" some of the boys encouraged me.

I reluctantly pulled off my shirt, shoes, socks and shorts and trotted down to the muddy water in nothing but my skimpy, white underpants. A couple of the boys looked twice at the soft bouncy bumps of fat under my nipples. I in turn was eager to see more black penises closer up. Not all the black boys in Izzat's country wielded such impressive specimens as his, however. I kept peeking down at the other hairless boys swimming naked. Their cold, shrunken genitals, if larger than mine, were not as big as I had hoped. Some of the smaller boys giggled and made remarks to Izzat in their local tongue when they caught me looking. We all joined into some game like tag they were trying to play by throwing an old, uninflated soccer ball at each other. Then Izzat strode closer through the chest high water and gave me a hug. I could feel his big erection against my hip.

"Listen, Tommy. We'll go over behind that tree, just you and me, alright?" Izzat whispered in my ear while he slid a hand down my back and into my underpants, and began cupping and squeezing my behind.

"I guess we can," I whispered back, checking to see if anyone was watching and trying not to betray how eager I was.

We left the other boys and waded over to where a large tree had recently fallen over into the river. The water was slow and deep there, and I pulled myself along by the submerged branches until I was able to climb onto the trunk and then onto the riverbank, on the other side, just out of view of the main swimming hole.

"Ready then?" he asked impatiently.

I nodded and kneeled down in front of him, eager to see the big dick up close again after so many months, and all that had happened to me. He unzipped his pants and out it flopped, stiff and cold, its head all gray and wrinkly from the cool water, but the details of his circumcision scar familiar. He had let his pubic hair grow out again. I opened my mouth and took in as much penis as I could, slowly warming it up with my tongue and lips. Izzat sighed contently and put both hands behind my ears, stroking the back of my head. I took hold of his cool lower thighs, now hairier than I remembered. I'd barely got settled down and warmed up his dick when he asked me: "Has anyone bigger than Tameez been fucking you?" I looked up at him without releasing his dick, and shook my head. Izzat pushed my mouth off his dick and gestured for me get up and take hold of a sturdy, exposed root at the base of the fallen tree. As soon as I turned my back to him, he took hold of my wet, saggy underpants with both hands and jerked them down to my ankles. He nudged the center of my back down as I took hold of a tree root with both hands, preparing for the opening pain I knew I would need to endure to get his monstrous, black tool up against the right spot inside me. I pushed out and loosened my anus for it. Then felt cool fingers pinch my crumpled flaps of crinkly skin clinging uselessly below my stiff little penis.

"Hey, it really worked!" Izzat exclaimed, as fingers reached between my thighs and kneaded and tugged on the atrophied sack. "It's like you never had them, now" he announced approvingly. "I like that budzy tool. Even if you sure wailed!"

"It really, really hurt!" I explained, "And you didn't even stop when I told you to."

"No, I'm sorry it hurt so much."

"You are?"

"But not sorry we did it! Are you?"

"I guess not," I responded, looking back over my shoulder, "It's better now."

"Is Tameez fucking you regularly?"

"He didn't at first, but now almost every night... But..."

"But you miss me, don't you."

I nodded. Suddenly I realized I wasn't embarrassed at all about being castrated. Not with Izzat. I was excited and pleased at his approval.

"It hurt for a long time, though" I informed him, wanting him to appreciate all that I went through while he spread my crack with his thumbs to get a better look.

"I like how it came out. Wait until the other guys see!"

"What other guys?!" I looked over through the branches and towards the sound of the boys, "I don't want them all to see."

Then Izzat turned me around to face him again. He looked down at my little erection wagging above the small ridges of shriveled, crinkly skin. "Oh, sure you do! You're looking good!" he paused for a moment, "Is your dick is even smaller now." He batted back and forth with a wet, muddy finger, "They were arguing over whether you are a boy or a girl. You don't want them to think you are really a girl, do you?" he held me close and set both of his hands on my behind. "Anyway let's get started. I miss dat white ass!"

The way he knew I would eagerly comply embarrassed me a little. "You really think it's shrinking?"

Izzat shrugged, "I imagine it won't matter by the time you leave, anyway." I didn't understand but wanted to feel the rigid black penis inside me again, and I didn't want him showing off that I was different now. "I don't want them all to know that I'm... that you guys... you know..." I stuttered, "What you and Masud did." Undeterred, he slid his hands down to just above my knees, grabbed my legs, and lifted them up against my chest, forcing me back onto the top of the fallen tree trunk. I needed to use both my arms to keep from tumbling over to the other side of the tree trunk.

"Don't worry. Some of them have seen boys like you before."

I felt Izzat's initial thrust into my waiting hole. I still couldn't help but squeal out as his whopping dick rammed into my anus, the pain seemed to be more than I remembered. Izzat responded with a satisfied grunt of his own followed by: "Oh, man, you are almost as tight as when I first fucked you." He thrust again with an audible grunt and I responded with my own high-pitched moan as my anus was ploughed open once again by his familiar implement.

"It still hurts, Izzat!" I complained while gripping the tree bark to keep him from pushing me off the trunk. I was finally able to relax my body to the point where the fat shaft was finally causing just a little less pain. I suddenly realized that this time neither Izzat nor I had applied lubricant before starting out.

"Izzat, do you have your tube of slippery stuff?"

"No…" he responded after a moment, "…And I'm liking this better." A noise from the direction of the river caught my attention. About five of the smaller boys had snuck around the tree and were watching intensely through a thin spot in the leaves. I immediately tensed up again, and Izzat's next thrust sent a painful twinge up from hole causing me to squeal again. I looked back to Izzat, who was glancing in their direction too, but making no attempt to pull out, or stop what he was doing. Only when I tried to sit up did Izzat react: grabbing me at my ribs and holding me down without missing a thrust, he said something to them in their native tongue that caused them to giggle and wade a few yards away, murmuring and looking back.

"They still think you're really a girl," he told me.

"I'm not," I responded.

It took me several more thrusts to again settle down and open up my behind to Izzat, but my whimpers made little difference to him, and even seemed to encourage him.

"Yeah. That's right. Grab at it like I taught you!" he urged. I hung my head against my chest and could see his now wild, long public hair just beyond my pale, little erection, flopping up and down in rhythm to his plunges. I relaxed as best I could and tried to focus on the pleasure that came when the head of his dick rubbed across that sensitive spot deep inside me. Soon I forgot about those boys watching us, and even able coo a bit with pleasure as much as grunt in pain as Izzat's dick was giving my special spot a good nudging.

"Here it comes," Izzat finally announced, then heaved out several sighs. "There. There's some lube for my little white slut," he added as his pace slowed. Indeed things finally began to really slurp and slide. He pulled out completely, and I was just barely able to get a second glimpse of the black tool that had given me so much pain and pleasure before he quickly shoved it back behind the elastic of his shorts and pulled them up again. He laughed at my embarrassment as I quickly grabbed and stepped back into my muddy underpants. I glanced over at the boys in the water. Izzat noticed them again and shrugged helplessly as he put an arm over my shoulder and directed us away from the curious boys and back to the Tameez by an alternate route along the river bank.

"Now we really confused them," Izzat informed me.

"Huh?" I asked.

"They were thinking you are a girl when they saw you put out for me. But now I think they saw a little-boy dick when you put your undies back on."

"Put out?"

"Put out. Let me fuck you."

"Oh. What's a slut?"

"Slut?"

"You said I was your little white slut."

"Oh! It's someone who loves to put out."

"It doesn't sound nice," I complained.

Izzat only shrugged, "but you do. That's one of the reasons I fixed you."

"Fixed me?"

"Castrated you."

"I would have still put out for you if you didn't."

"Maybe," he shrugged, "But I wasn't sure, and it was fun anyway: gelding you."

"It wasn't fun for me, being casterated."

"Cas-trat-ed. Learn to say it right."

"Cast-rrrated."

Those boys beat us back to the group, and were jabbering excitedly to the older boys in their local language. I blushed as the older boys began looking me over. Izzat directed me back towards the swimming hole before slapping my behind playfully.

"May Allah bless that Burdizzy tool of your cousin's," Izzat shouted over to Tameez, who briefly frowned and shook his head at Izzat's apparent blasphemy.

I looked quickly to Izzat and then to all the older black boys watching us. The younger boys – mostly naked – began some kind soccer game on a grassy patch between the river and the road. They beckoned for me to join them. I ran after the ball with the rest of my impromptu team, holding up my wet, sagging underpants, while Izzat and Tameez chatted quietly. The ball was passed to me and I started nudging the ball towards our goal. Suddenly one of the boys on the other team appeared right in my path and booted the ball hard into my crotch. The other boys cringed in sympathy but I hardly felt the blow in the excitement and quickly got control again, sending it through the make-shift goal to the cheers of my teammates. It wasn't until after the ball was retrieved and the game resumed that I realized how much a blow like that might have hurt when I still had my testicles. The captain of my own team wasted little time in retribution, and sent a naked knee into the naked crotch of the boy who kicked the ball into mine. The boys started arguing and the game came to an end. Izzat came over to pat me on the back.

"I saw that," Izzat told me, "What do you think about being gelded now, Tommy?"

"Sometimes it's okay," I admitted.

"They're all arguing if you are a girl again," Izzat told me, grinning.

"Well I'm a boy!" I protested.

"Show them your secret, then!" Izzat told me.

"They won't understand," I pleaded, realizing that Izzat was hoping to get me to show everyone because he was proud he did it to me. Letting Izzat see and touch me was one thing – he was the one who castrated me in the first place – but the thought of showing all these ragged, strange African boys that I was castrated was so humiliating yet so exciting it made me a little dizzy. My penis sprang to erection once again as I imagined the humiliation and began to soothe myself as I always did, which was lucky: as I was able to grab hold of my underpants when Izzat swiftly started pulling them down from behind.

"Com'on, Tommy!" Izzat teased, "I want to show them I made a little eunuch."

"No, that was something I did specially for you," I pleaded quietly, glancing over my shoulder to Izzat, "I don't want strangers to see that… you know," I shrugged. Then I looked back to the rest of the boys. Imagining showing one or two of those older boys what Izzat had done gave me a strange, uncomfortable thrill, a chance to repeat the new excitement I felt when I had let Izzat inspect me just a few minutes before. Izzat pushed my hand aside and was able to start to pull down the front of my underpants. I tried to block the view with my hands, as my penis sprang out from the elastic band, seemingly cheerfully conspiring with him to arch up and out of the way and give everyone an unobstructed view of the little flap of shriveled skin that remained of my sack. One of the older boys giggled a bit nervously as I maneuvered my hands to block their view. He asked Izzat something, shaking his head. Izzat began speaking to them in their own language, then looked back to me.

"They don't believe me. They say your balls are just hiding, because you are cold."

"You told them about me?" I bit my lower lip, and sighed. I now concentrated my efforts on keeping the other boys from seeing.

A younger boy began to shake his head in disbelief.

Izzat gestured for me to say something.

"Do they all have to be here?" I asked, glancing over to the smaller boys. I couldn't stop blushing, but hoping for some kind of compromise: letting just a couple of the older boys see. The other boys were staring, mesmerized by Izzat's continuing narrative, which ended by making a clamping motion with two fingers. After a moment of silence, the boys snapped responses back.

To the side I could hear one of the guards ask Izzat in thickly accented English, incredulously, "He just let you do that?"

"Sure," Izzat responded, "At first he did. Then once I crushed the first one, he started kicking and yelling, but we had him tied down by then and he couldn't do nothing. I let Tameez's half-brother finish the job."

"You crushed his nuts?" the guard asked.

"No. That would be cruel," Izzat explained, "We just crushed the cords going to the nuts, it's just a little pinch that way, not much more than getting your finger caught in something."

"He got a bruise, and the nuts die and shrink away over time," Tameez explained, nodding in agreement.

The guard turned directly to me in disbelief, "And you just let them do that? You can't be a man now."

I shrugged in response, "It hurt for a while, but now I don't feel any different than before."

Izzat jumped in before I could answer further, "He doesn't even mind that we did it."

"Show us! Show us!" the younger boys pleaded impatiently in their limited English.

"They've never seen a naked white boy before, much less a gelded one," Izzat told me, grinning, then he rambled on to his friends in their language, while at the same time he moved his hands to gently stroke my nipples. The bigger boys were now gathering around too, following Izzat's words and occasional gestures towards my partially exposed body. I couldn't help but appreciate their broad shoulders, black, shiny, muscled chests and tightly curled armpit hair. I was curious about their genitals too, fat bulges barely hidden behind their wet shorts. The thought of letting all those big, black strangers see that I'd been castrated seemed too much for me to even consider at the moment. But showing Izzat had given me a shiver of excitement I wanted to repeat. A boy a bit taller than Izzat with a gold earring caught my eye, and suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to show him what Izzat had done.

So for his sake I gave up trying to block the group's view for a moment, and let my hands hang slack at my sides, sighing, glancing again to gauge the earring guy's reaction. Izzat grinned in victory, grabbed my underpants on both sides and dragged them down to my ankles so everyone could get a better look.

"We wanted to do it while he was still hairless," Izzat explained to the guard with a gesture to my bare lower tummy.

I could see all the naked younger boys in front were as hard as I was.

"We eventually need to cut the dick off, but Karin said not to do it then," Tameez added to the guard, then shrugged and told me "We need to get that done soon."

"What?!" I asked Tameez, shocked. Izzat twisted my body around so some of the other boys could better see the results of the blessed tool.

Izzat laughed and shook his head, "I bet you will like that too, Tommy."

"Uh uhh," I corrected him, "I like my winnie a lot more than I liked my peanuts." I told Izzat.

"Proper eunuchs don't have their… winnies… either. Didn't you know that?" Tameez told me.

I shook my head, "No one never told me that. I like my weenie. And I need it to show I'm a boy!"

"Well," he replied looking down at my taut, little boner, "that little thing wouldn't tempt many girls, and it's the rules in the palace," he assured me.

"It will grow when I get older," I retorted.

"Nope, not after you've been gelded," Tameez explained.

"That's all the dick you could ever have. It will always be just a little-boy-dick, but it looks like you'll grow some nice titties!" Izzat added as his damp black fingers jiggled my plump, little nipples.

"Stop it, Izzat. My winnie won't grow at all?"

"It never was going to be very big, anyway. What is it? Two and a half, three centimeters... hard? Mine was already more than twice as big when I was your age." Izzat explained.

"Yours is especially big, though," I retorted

Izzat shrugged and changed the subject, "Would you like to meet some of my friends? They want to meet you."

"Which ones?" I asked.

"This guy with the earring?" He pointed to the big boy I noticed earlier, "You seem to like him."

"Yeah, Okay I guess." I confessed.

"Mosese!" Izzat waved him over, and the black teenager shoved some of the younger boys aside to stand next to us. In the meantime Izzat put a bare foot on my underpants and pushed back at me, giving me no choice but to quickly step out of them, and stand irreversibly naked at the center of the group.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked.

"I think you know," Izzat responded with a grin.

"You want him and me to do something right here?!" I whispered.

"Well, you two can go back behind the tree again." Izzat conceded.

Mosese shouted something to the group, and all of the boys except the one who kicked the ball into my crotch went back into the deeper water, just a few short yards away. Izzat put a toe into my underpants and kicked them away. Then the four of us went back over to the slightly secluded spot behind the fallen tree.

Mosese and Izzat exchanged some words in their local tongue. "And he wants his little brother to see too." And Mosese was already exchanging words with his brother as we walked along the bank towards the fallen tree. "Okay, show the guys now." Izzat ordered. I hesitated. This would be the first time I let complete strangers examine closely that I had been castrated, and I wondered how they would react. I pulled my hand away for Mosese, and – reluctantly – for his grinning little brother too. They looked me over for a moment – my pale weenie still standing at attention for them, arching up towards their faces – while I stood arms akimbo putting on a false, uncaring front especially for the younger boy. Mosese's little brother said in English in a thick accent "You have... accident." he insisted.

I shook my head.

He looked to his older brother and then to Izzat, with a questioning look on his face, "you… do that…?"

Izzat nodded and grinned.

He turned to me and pointed to Izzat briefly, "He do?"

I nodded.

He asked Izzat something, and then the boy presented his own hairless crotch and coal-black erection for my consideration.

Izzat laughed, "He wants to know if you will suck him off!" Already the boy was gesturing for me to kneel, his hairless erection flopping about, the circumcised head wrinkly from being in the water. The grey/black penis was twice as long as mine, even though I stood a bit taller. He spread his legs a bit, grinning at me and pointing at his dick eagerly, as if it were the most natural request in the world. Izzat and Mosese took hold of my shoulders and were snickering while urging me down so I could face the boy's crotch and go to work.

"I think he's younger than I am," I protested to Izzat. Izzat in turn asked the boy a question and got a quick answer.

"He's just turned twelve. But that doesn't matter, now. You're gelded, and he's got a good pair." Izzat winked at me while he was guiding my head closer to the young boy's waiting dick. I couldn't follow his logic. I only after beginning did I realize that – in their minds – losing the two little ovals that had hung uselessly below my penis was completely different than their loss of foreskins: they saw me as another class of person now. The young boy was grinning down at me, his scrotum, plump and prominent, snug against my lower lip. The head of his wet, circumcised penis nudging the back of my throat. He was surprisingly cold against my lips, a half-dozen crinkly hairs unnoticed before were tickling my nose. I kept myself close by wrapping my arms around the boy's lower back. I could feel the boy in turn gently stroking my wet, blond hair with a free hand, while holding the back of my neck with the other. I carefully stroked and tugged on the penis with my tongue, and it quickly warmed up. He asked Izzat something in a high, cheerful voice, and both Izzat and Mosese laughed and gave him a response. I slipped my mouth off the penis and turned to Izzat.

Izzat finally interpreted "He wanted to know if you are an eager cock-sucker because you are castrated, and I told him I castrated you because you are such an eager cock-sucker."

"I thought it was so I could stay and be a servant for Tameez."

Izzat shrugged, "That's not why I did it. I just wanted to castrate a white boy."

The boy patted my head and poked his dick into my cheek, and I reluctantly went back to work. I felt a large hand slide down my side, and move slowly to my belly. I couldn't tell if it were Izzat's or Mosese's, but feeling it excited me, and I redoubled my sucking, grasping my lips around the very base of the boy's penis, even though the tip was deep enough into my mouth to force me resist gagging. I moaned into the dick as the hand first fumbled in passing with my small penis, then began seriously probing and poking the empty flap of skin below it. I didn't protest. I glanced down to watch the black fingers relentlessly probing my emasculation, and I was pining for it to continue – not knowing whose hand it was made the feeling even more exciting. At the same time another warmer, soft dickhead was poking around my butt-crack. The young boy sighed and his penis convulsed in my mouth just a bit. A few moments later his dick started to become more pliable on my tongue and the boy unceremoniously pushed my head away, said a single word to me, then wadded back into the water and his friends.

"He says 'thanks', Izzat reported, "I'd like some more of your ass but we need to get back before my guards come looking for us." Izzat told me as we followed the smaller boy back into the river.

It was Mosese's hand that was invading my once private area, it was his large penis playfully looking for my hole. He whispered something into my ear, but I shook my head and shrugged. Mosese then wrapped a strong arm around my waist and tugged me towards the riverbank near where many of the tree's roots were now pointing up at the sky. I leaned back on my elbows, pulled my heels up close to my behind, and let my knees flop to either side, giving Mosese the best view I could offer him. The teenager took a second long look. Finally he pulled himself up out of the water and sat next to me. I stared at his own hard, black erection, not rivaling Izzat's in size but strangely crooked. It didn't curve smoothly upward like mine did, but veered to one side.

"Did you hurt it?" I asked, forgetting his lack of English. I tried again in my broken Arabic, and finally just pointed at it and made my finger crooked. He just shrugged and smiled. I bent over it and took it into my mouth up to the kink. Mosese petted my blond hair for a moment, but he clearly had something else in mind. He gently lifted my head off his dick, then spit heavily into his hand and rubbed it onto his dick with my own. I nodded at the crooked monster. I didn't need a common language to know what Mosese wanted, but I knew a little spit wasn't enough lube to get that thing into me. I could barely stand Izzat's straight one a moment ago, and I hoped the dose of Izzat's cum already in me would make up the difference. But I couldn't explain my doubts to him. I took some spit out of my own mouth, slid it around in my fingers, and shook my head. But Mosese would have none of it. I reluctantly tried to placate him with some more sucking, but he pushed my mouth off again. At the same time his wet, shinny, black pecks and rippled stomach and strong arms got me more and more frustrated, and eager, not to mention the plump, sagging, balls and long, crooked black erection rising out of that thick patch of even blacker hair. It all mesmerized me. I finally gave up and shouted through the tree to Izzat if he had any of his lube he always carried. Mosese put his hands behind his head and lay on the grass. The crinkled black hair under his armpits caught my eye. I was setting on my knees before him, and I began gently pulling my foreskin off the head of my penis.

Izzat, Tameez, and a couple of the other older boys came meandering along the river bank. I immediately covered up my privates. Mosese didn't move, however. He just said something to Izzat.

"He wants you to mount him," Izzat told me.

"I don't have any lube, and look, it's broke or something."

Izzat shrugged. Tameez said, "These two guys want to see that you're a eunuch, too. They still don't believe us."

I looked down and bit my lower lip, keeping myself covered. Mosese said something to Izzat, and Izzat took his tube of KY out of his pocket and tossed it into the grass at my knees. Mosese picked it up, squeezed some onto his palm and then slopped it onto his waiting erection, giving it a new gloss.

"Does everyone have to see?" I asked pleadingly.

"Oh com'on, Tommy, I gave you the lube."

I looked at the eager eyes of the two other black guys, all just as fit as Mosese, and could see their erections struggling up against their wet shorts. Mosese impatiently used both hands to gesture for me to get on him. I was now eager to try on this new, different black penis, expecting it to be at least as rewarding as Izzat's had been. I didn't want to make a show of it in front of these other guys, but they refused to move on. I frowned at Izzat before getting up and straddling Mosese. I tried to lower myself onto his waiting erection, and I couldn't keep my balance while using one of my hands to covering my private area. The boys laughed as I fell back onto Mosese's thighs, his crooked erection wagging mockingly in front of me. Now the smaller boys had come over too, to see what was going on, and along with them the two guards that had come along. I tried my best to avoid their gazes. All the naked younger boys' were erect the moment they came upon the scene, even Mosese's brother who I had just got the blowjob a few moments ago. Mosese took my behind in both hands and positioned me over his erection. Feeling the slippery tip in my butt-crack, and remembering that full, unusual pleasure of Izzat's big dick gave me he bumped it again and again against my special spot in there, I began getting my hole loose and right above Mosese's soft, circumcised head, and began bumping and twisting my body onto the crooked black tool, leaning to the side trying to accommodate its shape, when I slipped a bit in the grass and had to steady myself with both hands. I covered myself again as soon as I could, but that brief glimpse only got the spectators even more curious and agitated, and their persistent interest in what Masud and Izzat had done vexed and excited me at the same time. I grunted as that wide, hard penis jammed itself further into me. I could only get it in as far as the bend, and that wasn't quite far enough for either of us. Mosese helped as much as he could with short upward thrusts, but I knew I was going to have to grit my teeth and get past the crooked part on my own if I was going to get it to the longed-for prize. I closed my eyes and leaned slightly back, then threw both my arms back to keep my balance, and relaxed my legs. I caught my breath briefly as the crooked dick wrenched into my anus and pushed at my insides. I grunted and spread my knees, letting myself fall bit-by-bit, deeper and deeper onto the crooked impaler. I grimaced as it slowly stretched and adjusted my insides to its needs. I finally opened my eyes and looked down again to see my own miniature erection twitching excitedly just above Mosese's black, hairy tummy, the burning in my ass and the different kind of bump against my nice spot making me forget those boys could now see my tight little oval of pigmented skin just in reach of Mosese's tickling, kinky crop of pubic hair. Mosese and I licked our lips at the same time, and then I slowly lifted myself, bit by bit, off the crooked thing, paused for just a moment to give my own dick a couple quick strokes, then leaned back and let the thing twist and prod its way back into me. I wiped some sweat from my eyes and lifted up again. I closed my eyes as Mosese wrapped a couple rough, black fingers around my penis, pulled my foreskin back clumsily, and at the same time flicked at my empty flap with the dirty nail of his little finger.

One of Izzat's guards slung his weapon onto his back and strode up to us. He stepped over Mosese's chest right in front of me, then dragged out his own large, black erection from olive trousers and thrust it into my face. For the first time a real adult man – a big, black soldier and not just a school boy – was preparing to have sex with me. Even though I was bouncing on Mosese, I was drawn to the fully adult guard's big, black penis. It was heavily veined, the circumcision was crude, and black hairs were escaping in all directions from the base of the shaft. I took hold of the back of his army belt with one hand – grateful for a handle – and took hold of the hard, hot shaft with the other, and eagerly brought it to my mouth. I could only give it intermediate attention, with Mosese's own crooked dick poking deep up my ass, but even the movement incidental to my slow rising and falling onto Mosese's tool seemed enough to keep the soldier satisfied. With each cycle it became just a bit easier to coordinate my movements, a bit less painful, and soon I was bobbing up and down on the crooked shaft, having it bump my nice spot in new ways just before Mosese's pubic hairs tickled my inner thighs, and lifting myself up to the point past the crooked spot, and all the while sloppily running my tongue and lips over the guard's bigger tool. The smaller boys had moved up close now, and were excitedly jumping up, masturbating, and jabbering as they watched me work. With both my hands busy and my knees on either side of Mosese's hips, I knew they all couldn't help but see that little button of crinkled skin below my erection. I belatedly reached down to cover once more the small, corrugated remnant of scrotum even as I ran my tongue along the small, irregular remnants of the guard's foreskin. The guard began squeezing my head against his crotch until I gagged and choked, which made him laugh. I couldn't see Mosese's face now, but I could feel his fingers trying to push my hand away from my crotch, and a rough thumb rubbing the sensitive tip of my own little penis, irritating it enticingly until I almost bit the guard's dick, and all the time I was rocking up and down, up and down, letting that big back organ up against that sensitive spot inside me. The guard finally shot hot strings against the back of my throat, and a moment later he pulled his dick away, milked a final pearly glob out of the black tip, and flicked it onto my cheek as I continued humping on Mosese. As the guard stepped away I felt a new slickness inside me. Mosese too finally let loose. But I was still getting my little pleasure from each down stroke and continued bouncing on him. The guard tucked his penis back into his trousers, and mussed my hair. I immediately grabbed my own dick away from Mosese and started stroking it the way I liked it. I wasn't embarrassed anymore. It even excited me that all the boys were excitedly watching the junction where my pale, smooth, emasculated crotch joined with Mosese's black, hairy, masculine one. There was Izzat looking down at me approvingly. I felt a sudden since of pride: happy now for all of them to enjoy not just that Mosese was fucking me, but that I had been castrated – made different forever – and by the well-hung black boy standing there, just for his and their pleasure. Masud may have crushed the last of my cords, but I knew that Izzat was behind it all. Thinking about it now made my hand move even faster on my penis, until it was singing with pleasure between my fingers.

Mosese had had enough – at least for the moment – and his twisted dick softened and became useless to me. I leaned to the side and let it finally flop completely out of me. Hot, sore, and a bit frustrated I just lay back onto the grass and began seriously pulling at my penis; but with my knees spread wide, happy to show everyone what Izzat had done to me. The cum that the guard spattered onto my face began to run down my cheek. I wiped it off and rubbed it onto the head of my penis. The boys kept glancing at my crotch.

One of the older boys asked a question, which Izzat repeated to Tameez: "Did we really castrate him?"

"Didn't you show him the video?" Tameez asked.

"Not this guy. That's Ali, your future brother-in-law, if you don't blow it."

Izzat then went on to describe the burdizzo tool to Ali, drawing the shape of the jaws in the mud and using his hands to illustrate how it worked.

A guard told Tameez, "The more a boy like this is fucked, the more he will want to be fucked."

"Go ahead, that's one reason why I brought him," Tameez told him. I looked up at the guard's bristly, chiseled chin, and black sunglasses looking down at my crotch sternly. I shyly took my hand away from my small erection to let him fully see – I didn't want to do anything to provoke or defy him. This was the first time a real man took an interest in me. He put the muzzle of his gun on my chest and slowly pushed me flat on my back. Then he nudged my knees and thighs even farther apart with the same weapon, so he could have a full, unobstructed view of my emasculated crotch. I silently complied; my small penis standing at eager attention for him now. I wanted to see this man's dick as well, I was ready to feel and taste it. And showing off my, emasculated body was the best way I knew to that goal. I smiled up at him as one of his muddy boots slowly approached my waiting crotch, using the toe to roughly inspect my erection and the crinkled little flap of skin at its base, leaving streaks of gooey, smelling river mud on my white skin. He took half a step back and looked me over again for a long moment, then without a word he opened his olive army pants and pulled out a shorter, but very fat penis, darker than the rest of his skin. He fell to his knees, set down his gun, and grabbed the back of my knobby, white knees with big black hands and pushed them up towards my shoulders, folding me in half. His charcoal dick flopped around between my white inner thighs, and still my little penis remained at attention for everyone. A man – a real soldier – was going to fuck me in front of all the other boys. The fat, black dick pulled back, rested against my already stretched, itchy hole, and drove itself into me with one massive thrust no regard for my comfort. I squealed out loud – it hurt as much as the first time Izzat had fucked me. But he didn't care. He seemed to pull my innards out with him when he immediately pulled back, and then he thrust again. He didn't understand that he couldn't do it that fast, or he didn't care. If I weren't already well lubed up I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. I took hold of the sweaty black forearms still holding my knees against my chest. "Ow, Oh, Ow!" I repeated as he pushed his fat penis into my elevated ass again and again. I didn't understand why it was hurting so much until he pulled out, inspected the bottom of his own dick, and adjusted a curved metal stud installed just below the head. He let it flop down and jammed it back into me. But by now the pain was expected – even welcomed, just as Izzat had predicted long ago. His stubbly chin dripped sweat into my eyes, he looked down at me and grinned as he humped. It wasn't long before he stopped, and leaving his penis deep inside me he leaned down and put thick lips over mine and began pushing his tongue into my mouth. I let it in and it probed and slid over mine for a long moment, then he began fucking with gusto once again. After a few long, delayed thrusts, just stopped once more, pubic hairs and his belt buckle pressed up against my empty pouch, making it itch. He found and pinched at the acorn-sized lumps under my nipples. It seemed he had finished and I wondered why he didn't just pull out. The penis resting inside me seemed to shrink a bit, then slowly grow long and hot. I looked down at my crotch, wondering about this strange new feeling. He pushed himself up off of me and back onto his knees, and once he did the wet, slimy black dick spewed hot, yellow piss against my white inner thighs, then up my gelded crotch batting my small erection about, and then – as he leaned back laughing – onto my bare belly and chest, and finally into my face as I tried to block the stream with my hands. I got my feet back onto the ground, dug my heals in and pushed away, then got up and ran back into the river while he took a quick swat at my behind. I felt the warm pee seeping out of my hole and down my thighs.

"That's what he needs every day, until he begs for it," the guard advised Tameez, showing him the chrome semicircle with round knobs at both ends. The younger boys were giggling, embarrassed. The older boys mumbled that pissing into me had ruined it for everyone else, but not too loudly. I looked up to see the guard shake his floppy penis a few times then put it away, while giving me a wink. The wink made me feel good, for the second time I had satisfied a strong, black soldier, not just a teenage boy. I was blushing terribly, and quickly looked down at the water, tugging at my burring hole. He was right. I already was imagining doing it again with him again, or with another black soldier.

"You could have really hurt him with that," Tameez reacted.

The guard shrugged.

Izzat came over to me. "Tommy, let me see," he ordered, "Turn around."

I did as he ordered.

"Bend over and spread your cheeks."

I took hold of my ass cheeks and pulled them open as some of the other boys approached. A bit of blood dripped onto the grass. Izzat had me turn my behind towards the sun. "You tore him up inside," he complained. I felt fingers stretching my anus in different ways. Tameez came over to take a look as well.

"We better stop fucking him for a while," Tameez mused.

"Yeah," Izzat agreed, "Just sucking off from now on."

As the sun set the younger boys politely queued up in front of me as if it was the most natural thing in the world, so I got up on my knees and began with the first, hairless black dick waving in front of me, while all the bigger boys watched and chatted, and the guard who pissed into me went off by the SUV and pouted. I eagerly slurped and licked over the first boy's rigid organ, but he soon pulled it back, held his penis up against his belly, and presented his sagging, crinkly, ebony balls to me. I didn't quite know what to do with them, so I just licked around and under them, paying special attention to the seam up the center. Then I took both ovals entirely into my mouth and rolled them about with my tongue. The boy freed his erection, and it flopped down against my face, but I liked the sour taste and how the balls felt against my lips, on my tongue, and in my mouth, so I began alternating between sucking and stroking his dark penis and kissing and licking his chocolate-colored sack. The boy said something, and Izzat translated for Tameez: "He wants to know why he didn't care about being gelded."

"Tell him that he wanted to be our servant, and my father only wanted servant boys without balls," Tameez explained and Izzat translated.

"Why?" came the response after translation.

"Because if he doesn't have balls, he can't make any of our women pregnant, and gelding would also make him more gentle and obedient, just like a gelding horse, or steer," Tameez explained for Izzat to translate, "Really, we'll need to cut his dick off too."

I stopped sucking the boy and even stroking my own dick for a moment when I overheard that threat for the second time, but decided to pretend not to have been paying attention. Once Izzat translated Tameez's comments for the boys, they all became silent. The boy patted my head softly and said something.

For a moment I imagined how it might be done, with all these black boys gathered around, watching. Would they do it with an old-fashioned straight razor maybe, or a scissors? But either way it was the big black guard with the pierced penis who did it to me, and after he did it, I wouldn't be Izzat's boy anymore, but his.

The sun set, and the mosquitos drove the boys to put their clothes back on and started a campfire. Earlier Tameez had one of the guards lock my nice clothes into the SUV – so no one would steal them, he explained. I was the only naked one at that point, but I didn't mind. I had completely given up caring whether they could see I no longer had balls. They sat around the fire, smoking cigarettes and chatting, and one at a time slip another youthful black dick out of their pants, and call me over by my old name. I would bend down in front of one of the boys and gently take their virile member into my mouth, even the stranger Ali brazenly took his turn. On my hands and knees with my chin near the ground, Once in a while Izzat would have me spread my cheeks again and he'd see if I was still bleeding, and I realized such a pose would make it easy to confirm that indeed no balls hung between my legs. I even spread my knees, daring anyone to notice, but the stopped being interested. I felt almost invisible, the boys joking with each other in their own language, and only interacting with me when they wanted something, almost always the same thing: and they needed no words to express it beyond calling out "Tom-mee" slipping another black penis out from inside their often tattered pants, and leaning back allowing me to fall to my knees between their legs and bring my mouth over another dark dick, which sometimes were not even fully erect – yet. The two guards watched from the SUV.

Now it was this Ali who beckoned me over to him, as he pushed himself off the log he was resting against, and up onto his knees. I dropped to my knees in front of him, but Ali wasn't going to be satisfied with that. He shook his head and beckoned for me to turn around and face towards the fire as he slipped his organ out from his shorts. I looked back to admire it, another black, hairy, circumcised man-tool, each the same, and yet each different, and each fascinating. I looked over to Tameez and Izzat, wondering if Ali understood their edit against further fucking. The two boys consulted each other, then tossed the tube of lubricant over to Ali.

"Ali is our special guest, Tommy," Tameez explained, "I might marry his sister, and if I do, you'll be his and my wife's servant as well."

"It going to hurt," I complained, but I felt Ali's hard penis impatiently prod my soft ass-cheeks. I glanced down at the ground, embarrassed; then looked up again to see I was still the center of attention. I realized Ali was using me to show off to the others. He reached between my legs and his black thumb and finger take hold of my pale penis and stripped the foreskin off the head. He tugged at the bottom until it curled around his finger, then released and began doing it again, gently, repeatedly. I shuddered as he slid his finger over the wet base of my tiny dickhead. My penis was at full attention for him now, but Ali nevertheless continued to tug down on the base of my foreskin until its head bowed, to my entranced acquiescence. I again felt his stiff member poking softly at my behind. I gripped his wrist tight and bit my lower lip and whimpered as my penis began to buzz pleasantly to his tantalizing manipulations. I felt his warm breath against the back of my neck as he patiently tugged back my foreskin and gently tickled my cockhead from the tip down. He kept manipulating my erect, little penis as it buzzed and buzzed with a pleasure not quite as intense as those which occurred before my castration, but now without any spasms or drops of sticky goo, Ali's ministrations were able to sustain the feeling longer, as well as bring it up again and again. Then he thrust his dick in and the burning pain began again, just as it occurred with the guard's augmented penis was shoved into me. I grunted and moaned as stress and itching in my anus worked together augmenting the pleasure, but didn't resist at all while Ali now wiggled and bumped his penis into me until it was stuffed against that sensitive knot deep inside me. The searing pain, the harsh handling of my little penis, and the prodding of my nice spot up in my ass all worked together, his dirty fingers left grains of sand to irritate my tiny head and foreskin to no end. I gritted my teeth and moaned as he dug fingernail into my penis and empty scrotum, and shook my head in a fruitless attempt to distract myself from the burning pain around my anus.

"Like that?" Ali whispered behind me.

I nodded vigorously in response.

"Should stop?"

"No," I managed to whimper as he forced my foreskin torturously back, farther than I would have ever dared on my own, I feared he'd rip it from the head entirely but I made no protest. I arched my back and curled my toes as the surges of pleasure and pain built up in a kind of welcome frustration I couldn't quite release. I squealed as Ali used his free hand to pinch my nipples. He let go of my nipple and began pushing my shoulder forward and down. Then he released my penis and pushed even more insistently, I held myself up with one hand and soothed my penis with the other. I grimaced as Ali leaned forward, took hold of my hips and tugged my body deep onto his penis. He pushed and pulled at my hips and I complied, rocking my body onto and off of his stiff organ. I glanced around and saw the others watching me with expressions ranging from amazed to amused. Without at first realizing it, this Ali got me to completely cooperate with fucking me, and do all the work for him, even though it hurt terribly. I was rocking my sweaty body onto his hard, black penis over and over while the rest of the boys watched. I was desperate for that one extra bit of excitement, and arousal or even humiliation that would finally push my body over the edge. Then suddenly a pleasure exploded over my body stronger than ever in the past as I ass burned against his insistent thrusts, and dirty, black fingers twisted and clawed into my protruding nipples, and I twisted my foreskin around with my own free hand, I squeezed my eyes shut, shivered and cooed for Ali again and again, urging him on with 'Oh! Yes! Oh!' until the wave dissipated and I just lay back onto the trampled grass; sore, bug-bitten and sweaty; I released a sigh and gave up tugging at my penis.

One or two at a time, boys said their good-byes and climbed up the hill and back to the road. Only Ali, Izzat and Tameez remained when we went up to the SUV and we all crowded in, me last of all. I had to sit on one of the guards' lap. Izzat pulled my damp, dirty underpants out from the glove box and handed it back to me, and I wiggled around trying to pull them on again. Fingers slipped in under the white elastic band and began fondling my penis while we all rambled along the dusty, bumpy road. In the dark it took me a while to figure out they must belong to the guard who I had sucked off earlier. After a moment he had gotten my underpants down to my ankles again. He coaxed me to turn around and face him while wiggled and bumped his erection out of his pants and half asleep, guided by his firm hands on my buttocks, I pressed my silky, loose scrotum skin against his and slid it up and down while resting my cheek on his shoulder.

When I woke up we were on the outskirts of what appeared to be another military barracks. The guard I was on top of opened the door, picked me up, and plopped me onto the gravel, then he stepped out himself and slammed the door shut. The engine roared and tail lights disappeared around the bend. He directed me to a door at the end of the building lit by a single bulb. "My clothes," I complained, as I rubbed my eyes, hoping he could order the SUV back, "Where are we?" I asked as some goo drooled down the inside of my leg.

"My place," he responded briefly as we approached the building the door suddenly opened and two black soldiers appeared, probably as surprised to see a naked, muddy, mosquito bitten white boy as I was to see them.

"Where did you find that, corporal?" One of them asked as I covered myself and hid behind the guard.

"It's a little gelding whore that flew in with the Arabs." the guard said as we all entered the room together. We all walked past a short hallway with a couple doors, then a long dormitory with bunk beds where the two new men sat down. The corporal continued to lead me into a large, communal toilet, and finally into a dank shower room with four open nozzles on either side. He pointed to the first shower and left. I found a small piece of soap on a tiny shelf in the wall, and scrubbed myself down as best I could in the luke-warm water, especially my sore, sloppy behind. Suddenly the shadows against the wall changed and I turned around to see for the first time in my life a black man totally naked: one of the young men from the barracks. I took in his hairy, muscular thighs and chest, and especially the loose, dangling genitals sprouting out from a thick coat of furry pubic hair for a long moment. I had faint memories of the pasty, chubby, sagging men I saw at the nudist beach in Germany long ago, and this soldier's body was nothing like that. The man was carrying a neatly folded towel which he tossed on a high shelf above the nozzles, took the same piece of soap I had just used, and began lathering up his body. He looked over at me several times before I finally thought to close my mouth, swallow, and cover my straining erection. I had just finished bathing, but I wasn't provided with a towel, or any clothes, so I decided to sit on a short, wooden bench near the entryway to the showers, wait for the corporal to come back, giving me an excuse to continue examining the naked man. He turned away, allowing me to see his ample behind and rippling back and shoulders. When he picked up his feet to wash them, I got exciting glimpses of dark, hairy testicles swaying between his legs. He turned around again and caught me looking, I shyly turned my head towards the toilets, but couldn't resist looking back when I heard the water turned off. The man pulled his towel down from a high shelf above the nozzles, turned towards me, and began drying himself off, smiling at me the whole time. I couldn't resist looking at him. His penis was circumcised crudely like Izzat's, with a couple stubby lumps of skin reaching out towards the exposed head. Blood vessels took random paths along its length. It swayed listlessly in front of hairy testicles. Finally he asked good-naturedly, "Haven't you ever seen a naked man before?"

I shrugged, then admitted, "Not bare naked... not a black man."

He placed a foot on the bench right in front of me, dried off his lower leg, and then then looked me up and down. I smiled shyly back. He switched feet and began drying the other, with his genitals hanging loosely right in front of me. I reached out to run my fingers through the tangled blackness of his pubic hair. His penis began distending. I touched the shaft with my fingertips, then looked up to him hoping for some indication that I could continue. The man pushed me back a ways from the entrance then looked back in that direction briefly. By now the black cock was beginning to lift itself away from its twin hairy orbs. I smiled up at him and began to gently feel and examine the full, pendulous pouch and its contents. I petted them gently stroking the silky hairs downward, and then touched each side in turn with my cheek and lips. They smelled of soap.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I like your balls, they're so... big."

"You should know better than touch another guy's balls. What if I were to grab yours?"

"I don't have balls," I responded cleverly. He looked down at me in disbelief. "Really?" he inquired. I leaned back onto the length of the bench, and spread my legs, one on each side, so he could better see what I meant. He grunted in response. His penis was now almost as stiff as mine. He glanced back into the toilets warily.

"Oh, I wouldn't be your first, would I, boy."

"First?"

"First to fuck your ass."

"Uh uh," I paused to count, "Three times today. No four."

"What did the corporal call you back there when we came in?" he asked, "Golding?"

I answered quietly "Gelding. Because I'm casterated. That's a boy without his balls. Where did he go?" I asked as he folded up the wet towel, and positioned it under my behind.

"I don't know. Why did he leave you here?" he asked in return.

I shrugged in response. "I think he just wanted me to get cleaned up."

"How old are you?"

"I'm almost thirteen."

"You should be old enough to know not to stare at men like that, then."

I again looked down at his crotch. "It's alright. I mean, sometimes I even... I know how to put them in my mouth, too" I admitted to him, looking down at his crotch then up to see his reaction, which wasn't approving.

"That's not what a guy does," he told me sternly.

I shrugged, "I'm a gelding so it's alright. They do it to goats and cows and such too – casterate them – I saw them do it to goats. And they geld horses. It really hurt.... You have nice balls." I concluded, looking at them again and shrugging.

The corporal came back.

"I got some medicine for you," he announced, "show me your hole."

I did as I was told, holding my knees up to my chest. The corporal stuck a finger into my hole and tugged it this way and that, while the other soldier held a flashlight.

"Saied took a turn on him," the corporal explained.

"Pig."

The corporal shrugged. I flinched as the corporal pushed his cream along center of my pain.

"You like this?" he asked, watching my erection grow merrily to his ministrations.

"Yes... you're naked... I like your... body," I told the man sleepily.

"Who did that?" the naked soldier asked.

"Saied."

"No, this," flicked the beam of the flashlight onto my shriveled sack, "did he have an accident?"

"Oh, No. Another of Izzat's conquests. They used this Burdie-zo tool. It's like a little vice with handles. Almost a year ago."

"They want to cut off my winnie too."

"Winnie?"

I pointed to my stiff appendage.

"You are going to let them do that?" the soldier asked.

I shrugged and looked down at it, "I don't want them too, but I can't stop them. They've always been good to me otherwise, and Izzat..."

"Good to you? He neutered you, boy! Like a pet," the corporal told me.

I shrugged again, "It really hurt when they did it, but I don't mind now," I explained, "I kind of asked for it. And I know they like me better this way. Lots of guys do. Don't you like me better too?" I asked, concerned.

The man snorted. We heard a door slam.

"Tommy!" I heard Izzat shout from the front of the barracks. The man grabbed the towel from the bench and wrapped it around himself. The corporal replaced the cap on his tube of antiseptic cream. I had no other option than to pad out into the barracks room as naked as when I came in.

Izzat nodded approvingly and tossed me a fine, white kandura shirt and some silk slippers. I gave a faint wave to the soldier before we got back into the jeep and the Corporal drove us back to the presidential compound. Izzat had a servant boy show me where I could go to sleep.

5

The next morning one of the household servant boys brought me to Tameez's room, which was a hub of activity. One of the Emir's servants told me to be on my best behavior: tomorrow an important Sudanese family was going to meet the Emir to negotiate the marriage of one of their daughters to Tameez.

"Abdul-Gaffer," Tameez called, "I want you to come with us in the morning. I want to show my potential in-laws that I already have a real eunuch servant to serve my future wife."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing really, just stand behind my chair and maybe serve tea or bring messages to the servants outside the room," he said.

"Your master just wants to show you off," Yusuf explained quietly. I smiled at the thought of being shown off.

In the morning I was stood by the wall behind Tameez and the Emir along with Yusuf. Izzat entered in a simple soldier's fancy uniform along with another large black man in a fancier military outfit. Next entered several other black men starting with The General, who I took to be Izzat's father. He shook hands with Tameez and his father. Then he introduced in English those who followed as they all shook hands. Their own servants came in behind them. I blushed as I recognized one of the guests as Ali, the teen from the swimming hole who fucked me so hard by the fire while the other boys watched. He saw me at the same time and smiled at me. The general then sat down on a large chair in front of a set of glass doors that led into a small courtyard. They addressed him as 'Your Excellency'. Those with chairs sat down after the General, others stood against the wall behind. Small gifts were exchanged next, and I was put to the task of serving tea. A photograph of a girl was handed to the Emir, then to Tameez, who both commented on her beauty, then it was handed to me for safe-keeping. She was a very round-faced black girl who seemed to be younger than me. The conversation became more and more informal, and tried to imagine the different men and boys in the room naked. I began to pay attention again when the Emir told the others that his son already had an appropriate servant for his future wife, and pointed to me. The black men across the table looked over at me and nodded, apparently impressed. I blushed and looked down.

"By 'appropriate' you mean...?" the senior black guest asked.

Tameez nodded and blushed a little himself, "we were very fortunate that he came into our family's hands. I can assure you he is incapable of posing a threat to your daughter's honor."

I continued to blush and look at my feet. Then Ali leaned forward and whispered into the older guest's ear. They exchanged a few more words and then the senior black man asked Tameez politely, "But he's not completely safe?"

"I mean he'll never be... inclined..." Tameez began to hesitate.

"What's the matter?" the Emir asked Tameez, who whispered into his father's ear. He used a thumb and finger to show his father a length of about an inch, but the Emir gently pushed his son's hand down and whispered back to him. Tameez then beckoned Yusuf and whispered something into his ear. Yusuf then whispered to Izzat, who gestured to Ali to approach the General. Izzat whispered to His Excellency, who nodded and whispered something in return, looking all the while at me, then announced, "An excellent idea. By all means." Then Yusuf waved for me and Ali to follow Izzat, who led us all out the meeting room and through various hallways after apologizing to the older guest, Ali's father, for the misunderstanding.

We arrived in the kitchen, where a couple girls about the same age as Izzat and Ali were washing pots. Izzat ordered me to pull my fancy shirt off, while he pulled some butter from a big refrigerator. The two black girls looked back at their pots when I looked over to them, then I pulled the shirt over my head and handed it to him. Already my penis was poking out from my white underpants. Izzat then told me "those too," with a glance at my underpants. I quickly complied and slipped them off my legs as Ali watched intently, smirking at the appearance of my curved erection.

"You... rember... me?" Ali asked in thickly accented English as Izzat took my clothes and turned away.

"I looked up at him and nodded, "from swimming yesterday," I admitted, adding some swimming motions with my arms to illustrate when he seemed not to understand. Izzat gestured to a heavy wooden butcher's table. Ali nodded and smiled at me as Izzat directed me towards the table, and made a slight humping motion with his hip. I didn't want to do it in front of girls, and I pointed over to them. Izzat looked over too, then shrugged in response. I couldn't believe he wanted to do it with the girls working on the other side of the kitchen. He called over to them, held up his hands then pushed a finger in and out of his fist several times. Then he pointed to me and said "slut" with a grin. The bigger girl waved a dismissive hand at us and turned back to her work, just out of our view. "They don't seem to mind," Izzat told me softly with a grin. I still hesitated until he unzipped his trousers and dragged out his familiar, rigid penis, already damp at the tip, and began smearing the butter on it. My erection gave an excited little jump in response, and Ali whistled lowly when he saw Izzat's big tool. I licked my lips and looked over to confirm that the women weren't looking. I smiled back to Izzat coyly as he positioned himself behind me and gently pressed me against the table. I heard his belt being unbuckled and then felt his penis push into my crack.

"It still hurts from yesterday, Izzat," I reminded him. I started to bend over the table for him but he took hold of my shoulders to stop me. He urged my butt higher so I took hold of the table edge and lifted myself up until my penis was bobbing cheerfully about an inch above the edge. Only then could he arrange to get his dick up and into my hole.

"Ow, it's still really sore," I complained as Izzat started guiding me down until his greasy organ was deep within me. I could feel hair and a loose belt buckle against my bare behind. I exhaled deeply as his penis wedged itself along my nice spot. Pushing me hard against the table now, he took hold of my hands and crossed them over my chest, bringing almost all of my weight even further down onto his rigid organ as I stood without me feet touching the ground. I sighed again as the familiar penis spread my hole and went deep into me, still crowding against my nice spot. I could hear the women clanging pans on the other side of the big kitchen. The thought of them catching us worried yet excited me. But by now Izzat had positioned me so at least my wrinkly deflated sack was discretely hidden against the side of the tabletop and my excited little penis lying just above the edge, so those girls probably couldn't figure out I had been castrated if they came over. I sort of liked that Ali was watching, however. I concentrated on the foreign meat throbbing deep inside me.

"Good?" I heard Izzat ask behind me. I nodded as he still pressed my body against the table, my softening penis thumping gently on the tabletop just above the edge.

"Uh huh, the butter helped alot." I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck as he continued thrusting up into me, pushing for a short while, before adjusting my position again. I didn't understand quite what he was up to. "Up a little bit," Ali would command and Izzat would use both his arms and his crotch shift me up a little higher. Izzat would then ask "Good?" again and from next to me I heard Ali respond "Yeah, you ready?" Izzat took a firmer grip on my wrists and held them tightly against my chest. I closed my eyes and sighed as I sank deeper over his impaling penis. I felt his stubbly chin against my shoulder.

"So... half only?" I heard Ali ask.

"No one will care. As much as you want. He might be yours soon anyway." I heard Izzat respond. A hand took a firm grip on my penis and pulled on it hard. An itchy, burning sting burst out from the base, suddenly overwhelming the pain from my torn behind. I looked down to see my precious little weenie rolling out of Ali's grasp and onto the table, while my crotch spurted blood. From Ali's other hand dropped a bloody single-edged razor blade. I screamed from shock and the exploding pain now rivaling that of the Burdizzo long ago. I heard a pot bang on a counter and a women shouting in protest. Blood squirted out of me across the entire table as Izzat continued pushing his penis up into me several times still holding my arms. The younger black woman rushed up, grabbed a dishrag, and pushed it against the pulsing fountain of blood. It immediately turned bright red. Izzat moaned out loud and finally stopped, and tugged his penis out of me. Oozing the last of its blood, my darling penis immediately deflated down to a pale, shriveled little cone that Ali picked up by its tip using my underpants. "My winnie!" I shouted. The girls were shouting at Izzat and angrily shooing us all out. One tossed soapy water onto the wooden table. Blood was trickling off the washcloth and onto the floor and my pretty slippers. Izzat decided to press a fingertip right onto the wound, and I began a new scream.

"Oh, you took it all!" Izzat told Ali, a bit surprised. Ali just shrugged in response.

"Stop screaming. The whole mansion can hear you!" Izzat complained.

"My weenie..." I finally croaked out, looking up at Izzat. Ali was already walking out of the kitchen.

"Ohhh... Izzat! Why... did he... do that?" I whined between sobs.

"That little weenie of yours was getting in the way of your master's marriage deal," he told me, shrugging.

"He cut my weenie off!" I shouted. The women were pretending nothing serious had happened than a big spill.

"Tameez wants Ali's father and uncle to have it. Then they'll know for sure their daughter will never be dishonored by you if she marries Tameez. You hold the cloth, tight! Let's get you to the doctor."

"I want... my weenie.... back!" I choked out.

"It's not yours, it's your master's. You knew this was going to happen."

One of the girls came over, handed me another wash rag, then stroked my forehead as I gingerly pressed it against my still bleeding injury. The other girl was already wiping my blood off the table.

"It hurts... How was... I gonna... dishonor... his daughter," I asked Izzat between involuntary whimpers.

"I imagine they'll ask themselves the same question once they see it, and have a little laugh," he admitted with a smirk, "But it had to be done. Honor was at stake – for both sides. Tameez told you that. And the talks aren't going as well as we hoped. They want Tameez's side to give more."

He slid his hands into my armpits and slowly got me moving. We turned to leave the same way we came in, but one of the woman protested, pointed to the blood all over the floor, and then towards the back of the kitchen. So Izzat guided me towards a back door that opened to a large enclosed courtyard. I waddled along the foot path just in front of him, wearing nothing but those silk slippers, with blood splattered all over me. As we toddled along the soldier I met in the shower the night before was standing guard by a door. He looked at me for a long moment, then leaned back against the wall as if he saw nothing. A door opened and out came a dark-skinned Indian man with a thick moustache and a white coat that barely contained his ample belly.

"Come in here!" he called in a clipped, lilting English. He got me to lie down on his examination table, and got the dishrag away from me. A big African woman in a nurse's uniform came in and began washing me up. "Dear me. Dear me." the nurse kept repeating. The doctor prepared a small syringe and gave my behind an injection.

"We put a rag against the wound as soon as we could," Izzat explained.

"What happened this time?" the doctor asked Izzat.

"It was an accident... in the kitchen," he lied.

"It wasn't an accident. Ali cut it off!" I protested, wiping my nose.

"I see," the doctor told Izzat, while continuing to examine my wound. Then looking at me: "He may have saved your life."

"But he helped cut it off!" I protested beginning to sob again.

The doctor nodded as he went through his cupboards collecting things.

"Stop crying," Izzat ordered, "In a couple weeks you won't even remember you had it."

"Yes I will," I sobbed. The doctor poked something else into my backside.

My lower body quickly numbed out, and then the doctor went to work, "How exactly did it get... severed?" he asked Izzat.

"Just a razor blade..." Izzat thought for a long moment. "We were showing him how to trim his pubic hair, and... it slipped. Whoosh, it was gone." Izzat concluded his story with a helpless shrug.

"I see. A good clean cut, anyway. But not much to work with." The doctor first inserted a small plastic tube into me, spent a long while stitching up the bleeding vessel, then tugged skin together over the gaping wound with tape and finally stitched up the skin around the tube with a thick, black tread. The nurse put a little plastic clip on the end of the tube. She applied some gauze and some more tape.

"Just take it off like this when you use the toilet," she explained as she squeezed it open and then clipped it back on again. The drug had taken full effect and now I was just sniffling, "The whole mansion heard you yelling," she told me. A pink spot appeared in the gauze almost immediately. The doctor examined my crinkled little scrotum for a moment, then turned to the sink.

"I'll look at it again tomorrow," the doctor said while washing his hands, "Spend the rest of the day in bed, boy. You lost some blood." The doctor then turned to Izzat, "Where on earth did you find this one?"

Izzat just shrugged, "My friend Tameez brought him, one of the wedding gifts.

"Oh, well," the doctor told me, "you must be very excited, to be a part of such an historic occasion."

I shrugged.

"He'll be the bride's personal servant too – along with Tameez's – if the talks are successful," Izzat told the doctor.

"Ah, so it was very fortunate accident."

"Yes," Izzat confirmed, "very."

The nurse looked at me and shook her head sadly. I was unsure of my legs so Izzat let me hang onto his arm as we went back the way we came. I could see little drops of blood on the path. Izzat stopped by a glass double door and knocked gently. After a moment a curtain opened and I could see, Tameez, Ali, Yusuf; all the men at the meeting through the glass. They were still drinking the tea I brought. The door opened, but we didn't enter. My white underpants, spotted with blood, lay flat on the end of the low table near His Excellency, and on it I could make out the pale little knob of flesh that had given me so much pleasure. The men seemed already to have moved on to other matters. What brief purpose my penis served their talks already resolved. Tameez followed my gaze and gave me a helpless little shrug, and Ali discreetly raised his eyebrows. Last of all the president peeked back at us, craning his head around his oversized chair.

"Tameez's servant has received the adjustment, father," Izzat announced," And the doctor says he'll be alright after some rest. I'll bring him back to his room."

"Yes, we saw. Thank you," the President responded politely with a gesture to the cloth on the coffee table, and waved a dismissive hand. The door was closed and the parties went back to their tea and discussions.

6

After about five days of lying in bed, with the nurse visiting me, I was finally ordered up and about. The sun was setting when I waddled back to see the doctor again.

"So how are your exercises going?" he asked as he pointed to my shirt and flicked his ebony hand to one side. He turned to lock the door to the courtyard.

I slowly pulled off my shirt, only to have him pointed to my underpants and flick his hand again, "I still can't hold my pee," I admitted, wondering if he noticed the large wet spot as I pushed them down to my ankles and off over my feet. I had gotten into the habit of pressing a finger against the scabby spot where my pee now emerged.

"Yes, I've been told that," the doctor announced disapprovingly to the nurse. I heard a rubber glove being snapped over a hand. "Bend over the table here and let me see what's going on there." I bent over and immediately felt the latex-covered fingers enter my ass. "You've been a busy boy, apparently," he mused as he immediately jammed his fingers and half of his palm up my behind and began roughly handling my secret pleasure spot, causing me to gasp and whimper. "So, you have been blessed with a remarkably developed prostrate, considering."

"Prostrate?" I asked.

"This," he said as he nudged my spot so intently that I moaned and started to pee onto his table, "do you like this?"

"Yes... sir," I squealed out as fingers mercilessly massaged my prostrate as I abandoned all restraint and continued peeing onto his table. I heard him drag a small squeaky-wheeled chair closer. I grunted as he jerked his hand out of my ass.

"So, were castrated? Some time ago?" he asked me as he began pinching and probing into my empty sack, "Do you remember someone doing something to your balls here? Some kind of farm tool?" he asked.

"Yes sir, a buddy-zo. Something like that."

"Buddy-zo? I see," he mused as I felt a fingernail scrape at the pinch marks the tool left, "How long ago was that?" he asked after a moment.

"About a year ago, I guess. Izzat did it on one side, then Masud on the other, but Izzat helped him," I explained.

"You seemed well fed, and fit, otherwise," he commented as he squeezed my butt, thighs and calves, "Masud?"

"Master Tameez's half-brother."

"Ah," he pulled his hand away from between my legs, "Up then. Let's see your throat and teeth."

I turned around and opened my mouth for him. He tore off his rubber glove and took up a tongue depressor. After a brief inspection of my mouth and throat, he pushed the wood farther back into my throat until I gagged and leaned back.

"Now, now. You must learn to discipline this gag reflex as well. Lean your head back. Take a deep breath and hold it," he ordered, "Just relax now," he took a firm grip on the back of my neck then thrust the depressor down into my throat as far as he could. "Resist that urge, child! Just ignore it." I would have protested but I couldn't say a word. "You're familiar with Master Izzat's ample male member, I can see from the stretching it has given to your anus," All I could do was nod slightly as tears of discomfort welled up in my eyes. "With practice you should soon be able to put all of that ample manhood right down your throat," he withdrew his probe as I coughed, "enough of that for the moment." He turned to the nurse. "He should go back to light work."

When I started moving around the compound again, things seemed different. There were more guards walking around, and more visitors in fancy uniforms. I put on my khaki shorts and polo shirt again, and went back to work for Master Tameez. Later that same day I was fetching Tameez's clean clothes from the laundry when met Ali in the main courtyard. Still upset about what he did to me, I blushed and looked down at my basket of clothes as we approached, hoping he wouldn't notice me.

"Abdul-Gaffer" he said with big grin. He peeked down at my crotch. "You good now?"

I shrugged.

He glanced around the courtyard for a moment, then leaned by my ear and whispered, "Ali fuck you. When?"

I bit my lower lip, and shrugged again. "Ali cut dick, now best fucking to Abdul-Gaffer. You want. Be happy time. Izzat say Abdul-Gaffer want Ali now."

I shook my head at my basket, refusing to look up. Ali paused a bit, then mussed my hair. "We see," he said before walking on. I turned and watched him saunter away confidently, and recalled his near-naked body from the time swimming by the river. It was only a couple weeks earlier, but it seemed much longer. He turned back and caught me looking, and I blushed again, and moved on.

I couldn't get Ali off my mind as I was putting Tameez's clothes into his dresser. But another servant boy poked his head into the room told me to go to the kitchen and get tea for the conference. All those same men and boys looked up at me when I arrived, Ali included. As I rolled the rattling chrome cart into the room, everyone stopped talking and looked me over. I tried to ignore them and concentrated first on putting the tea tray on the table, the conversation stopped and I felt them all staring. I knew exactly what they were thinking. Maybe Ali and Izzat did it, but the rest of them had inspected my severed penis, and they all saw me at the glass door after that, naked except for the bandage covering the new wound. If Izzat's prediction was correct, they even laughed at how small it was. I blushed and my hands began to tremble. Pain stabbed up against my fresh scar from the inside as the remaining base of my penis began throbbing. I set the tray down and couldn't help but tug at the crotch of my shorts uncomfortably, hoping they wouldn't notice. I heard Ali and Izzat whisper to each other. I resisted the urge to run away, and quietly moved the tray of cookies to the coffee table next. I looked over at Ali to see him smiling back at me. I took a breath, tugged the sides of my shorts a bit to get take some more pressure off my wound, and gathered all the dignity I could muster to push the cart out of the room again, but Tameez stopped me.

"Pour and serve the tea, Abdul-Gaffer," Tameez told me.

Biting my lower lip, first I poured a cup and served it to His Excellency, today out of his uniform and wearing a cream-colored three-piece suit, with a wide, yellow necktie.

After taking his tea he looked over in Tameez's direction and nodded approvingly, "his legs are like a gazelle's."

"It is a side effect," Tameez's father responded. His Excellency grunted in understanding. Ali's father then looked up and down my legs as I approached him with his cup, and nodded in agreement.

As I served them all, it was now Ali, and not Izzat, who kept invading my thoughts, who expression and interest preoccupied me. I wanted to see him naked, and wanted him to see me naked again, even if I resented him. I didn't understand how I was supposed to feel, how they expected me to feel, how Ali or Tameez or Izzat wanted me to feel what they did, as I handed a cup of tea to Ali.

"Thank you, Abdul-Gaffer," Ali said softly.

I responded with a polite smile and went on to serve his uncle, Tameez's family, and even the servants against the wall like Yusuf. Finally I pushed the empty cart out of the room, and closed the door.

In the hall I began sniffling, Ali followed me out and stroked my back, then kissed my cheek.

"Abdul-Gaffer good boy," he said, then pointed back to the conference room, 'everyone love Abdul-Gaffer." Then he kissed my other cheek. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. He wrapped an arm around my waist and before I knew what was happening he was guiding me into his guest room almost identical to Tameez's. He sat me on the edge of the bed and gave me a can of cola from a little refrigerator. He wrapped an arm around me, and stroked my side while I nursed on the can. I felt the sharp pain against my wound again, but resisted the urge to adjust the bandage this time. I realized Ali wanted to say something to me, but had neither the English nor the Arabic to explain it. He began stroking my nape gently with the back of his fingers and kissed me once more, this time on the lips.

"I'm feeling better now," I announced.

"Ali make you feel good, " he told me as he took the can out of my hand and set it on the dresser.

"Yes."

He brought his hand down and then under and up my shirt, rubbing my bare back now. I looked up at his face to determine his intentions only to get another, longer kiss. By the time it was over he had my shirt up to my armpits, ready to tug it off my arms and over my head. I didn't resist, remembering how those same hands had handled me that day by river, and then, how that same black, slender fingers had clenched and gave that final tug to my penis before the razor sliced it away. I remembered how Izzat and Masud had announced it their natural right to be the first to fuck me after applying the burdizzo, and how that that tradition somehow made sense: Ali wanted that same satisfaction now, and although it was Izzat who restrained me that day, it was Ali who not only cut it off, but made it happen in the first place: who whispered to his father that I still had it, knowing what would happen next. And Ali who brought his pale little trophy back to the conference room, showing it off to all the important men in my life. Those men knew not only that I no longer had it, but that it was Ali who cut it off. I resented him for it, but stupefied by his prowess as well.

His warm, black hand came to rest on my pale thigh. He kicked off his sandals, so I pushed mine off as well. He coaxed me to stand up in front of him, and easily tugged my shorts down to my ankles. I stepped out of them before he began the same with my underpants, exposing the finger-sized Band-Aid that covered my wound. Without asking Ali tore the Band-Aid away, exposing the pink zigzagy vertical line still held together with a half dozen thick, black sutures, ending with a pink hole above a quarter-sized lump of darker, crinkled skin. I stood still as he ran a single, black finger gently along the stitches, and then down the natural crease in my shrunken, sack.

"Good," he said, then looked up at me, "Good, now."

"It still hurts sometimes."

"No, good gone. I decide: not for you." He pointed to his chest with his thumb, "I decide. Right?" He kissed his fingers and pressed them against the spot ever so gently. Then he stood up and opened his own pants, and presented his hairy, masculine crotch to me. "Kiss now." I looked up at him, but he only thrust his already half-erect male organ at me again. "You kiss now," he commanded. I fell to my knees and gently kissed the black veiny shaft. He lifted his penis against his stomach and presented his plump, hairy balls to my face as well. "Kiss now." He said curtly. So I kissed each in turn, hesitating a little longer now, long enough to take in their musty, masculine smell, and feel the hairs tickle my lips and nose. He set me on the bed, and reached over to his dresser, and picked up a single-edged razor blade. "Kiss now," he again commanded, presenting the flat of the blade to my lips. I hesitated but he presented it again, "Kiss now." I gently touched my lips to the thin metal as he smiled. He tossed the rectangular blade back onto the dresser, and only then I saw the bloody underpants waded up there, and imagined its contents. "Kiss now" he told me again, thrusting dark balls back into my face. I obediently leaned into him and licked across the center of the dark, hairy sack, one side, and then the other, as the ovals slid and rolled against my tongue. I began gently chasing them, one after the other, trying to catch them in my mouth, trying to keep the hard, floppy penis out of the way. I captured the base of it in my lips, and then slowly slid and licked my way up to the tip, and licked all around the black helmet.

"Good," Ali told me, "Like Ali pinus?"

I grunted affirmatively as I teased it with my tongue.

"Ali fuck now."

I lay back on the bed obediently. He gently spread my knees and for a long moment studied my empty crotch with a smug, satisfied grin on his face.

The next day the doctor decided to remove my stitches. I stripped down in front of him, and sat on his soft examination table, while he clipped the black stitches one by one, and dragged them out of my body, the strange feeling giving me a chill.

"Where's the nurse?" I asked.

"This is her day off."

He set aside the scissors and the sutures, then gestured for me to get off the table. He locked the examination room door, then unzipped and unbuckled his trousers, untucked and removed his shirt, exposing flabby arms and a big round hairy belly. Then he pushed down his trousers and white undershorts, exposing dark flabby, and hairy thighs, pendulous, black balls and a lumpy, half-erect penis just as dark. "Let's try your gag reflex now with the real thing, shall we?" His genitals and his entire body were more hairy and sagging than any I had experienced since seeing the old men at the nude beach long ago. "Down on your knees. Throw your head back. Deep breath. Open wide," I nervously complied with each command. "Keep your throat and mouth in a straight line." He slipped his warm penis onto my tongue, and then took a firm grip on the back of my neck with both hands. Suddenly he pushed his stiffening erection right down into my throat as I groaned out a useless, muffled protest. "It's in there whether you like or not. Now make the best of it. Accept it now." I struggled to resist vomiting against it. My gags and struggles seemed only to egg him on. My mouth was wide open and my teeth and tongue entangled in his stiff, untrimmed pubic hair. I pushed meekly against his warm thighs in protest.

"Alright, alright, that's enough for now. Good job. You are a wonderfully compliant boy."

I wiped my mouth and pushed loose hairs out with my tongue, "Izzat says I 'put out'."

"Yes, you put out very well!" he agreed with a laugh.

I heard him rip open a foil. Looking over I saw him pulling a tan rubber circle from a square packet, "you know what this is?"

"No, sir," I responded with a now raspy voice.

"It's called a condom," it provides a barrier between penis and anus," he began unrolling it onto his now firm erection. "I'm a bit worried about any diseases your many friends may have deposited with you. Now lean over the table again." I delayed obeying long enough to watch him unroll the rubber down his wet gnarly penis. I bent over the table again, waiting patiently for him to shove it into my hole, wondering what this new one would be like. "Go to work now, boy. Show me what you can do."

I repeatedly squeezed his static penis for him.

"No, move your ass, boy! Squeeze and rock forward, push out and rock back."

"I'm sorry, sir," I told him. I pushed my ass farther onto the latex-covered probe until it was snug against my newly named prostrate, and couldn't resist repeatedly nudging it against his penis. I sighed deeply, closed my eyes, hung my head down, and began breathing through my mouth as I milked pleasure from his erection with my behind for a long moment, even while I tried to ignore the pangs of pain from the base of my penis. I opened my eyes and looked along my chest and tummy to see nothing but a set of black, hairy balls swaying between my own pale thighs, my little penis wasn't there – even though I could feel it throbbing in pain. Only an irregular, vertical scar remained. Then I felt the doctor give my ass a hard slap.

"I know what you are doing. Don't be so selfish," he grabbed my hips and pushed me forward until his penis was almost out. "Now grip it. Grip it tight," then he began pulling me back onto it again, "Keep it tight!" he urged. He renewed his hold on my hips so he could force me against his body. I responded with a little grunt when his penis bumped up against my prostrate once more. "Alright, now release and lean forward again," he instructed. I obeyed, and leaned forward.

"Not too far, don't lose it! Good. Now grab it and stroke the entire shaft again," he began patting my behind at the same place where he slapped it. "Bend your back up, and stroke the bottom, and then down and stroke the top."

I did as he wished.

"Yes, now keep doing it."

"Yes sir."

"Watch my balls now. See them?"

"Yes I can see them."

"When they start snuggling up against my body, that's when you need to redouble your efforts, concentrate on the tip."

"Yes sir."

"However, don't work at odds with what your man is trying to do. If he wants to do it rough, then you help him do it rougher."

"Yes sir."

"Do you like it rough, Tommy?"

"I don't think I'd...Oh!" I began, but he interrupted me by gripping hard on my hips and slamming his penis up against my prostrate.

"Do you like it rough, Tommy?" he asked again, more sternly.

"No... I...." but he interrupted me with a hard pinch on one of my nipples, and then banged his penis against my prostrate once more.

"If anyone asks if you like it rough, your answer is always 'yes please'," he explained. "Do you like it rough, you little slut?"

"Yes, please," I answered half-heartedly.

"Are you a slut?" he asked mockingly. "What's a slut?" I asked as he continued ram his penis against my behind.

"That doesn't matter," he replied gently, then went back to his mocking tone, "Are you a castrated slut?"

"Yes, sir." I began to understand the game.

"That's right!" he exclaimed, "Are you a cock-sucker?"

"Uh, huh." I agreed as I felt his hand move off my nipple and onto my crotch. I looked down there in time to see him pinch at my rugose, empty sack

"What happened to your balls, Tommy?" he asked in his mocking tone.

"I was caster...ated."

"Who castrated you?" he asked as he gripped my knotted-up little scrotum roughly in his hands.

"Izzat, did."

He stopped fucking briefly, but left his penis inside me, and his hand on my crotch. "No, don't tell everyone that. That's your little secret. Just say 'black boys did it.'"

I nodded, "yes sir."

"Who castrated you, whore?" He resumed his aggressive thrusting.

"Two black boys."

"And they your dick off too?"

"Uh huh."

"And you liked it," he told me as he intensified his grip.

"I didn't like it at all. It wasn't fair. They didn't tell me that before we started."

"But you like it now," he told me instead of asking.

"Yes sir," I conceded for him. I hung my head down to see the hairy black balls, damp with sweat, sung against the black shaft slamming into and out of my body. I closed my eyes and began squeezing and pushing my hips back onto the organ on the in-strokes.

"Yes, take it, bitch!" he snarled, "Take it.... Yeah..." His fingernails dug into my hips as he completed his final thrusts, then sighed and almost fell back into his squeaky little chair. I too took a moment to rest against the wet exam table, I squeezed and clinched my hole to relieve the leftover burning and itching.

"Sore?" he asked. I looked back and caught him looking at my behind.

"A little bit," I confessed as I pushed myself up off the examination table and turned around, looking for my clothes. "And my winnie hurts, even though it's not there."

"Ah, I see, phantom pain. That should pass with time."

The doctor was slouching back in his little chair, his hairy, flabby body sagging over the sides, his condom half off, white goo collected in a tip at the bottom. He looked down at my crotch. I instinctively moved to cover my emasculation, only to think better of it. I shyly pulled my hand away again, blushing. He smiled and sighed in response.

"You are such a compliant little thing. All I can say is: May God Bless that Buddy-zo tool," he mused.

"Did Izzat tell you that?" I asked.

"Yes, he did. Now come here and clean me up."

I stared down at the droopy, limp genitals that only moments ago had me enthralled. He waved me towards him and I got down on my knees in front of him.

"What do I do?"

"Pull that off, and tie it in a knot so you don't spill the semen."

I carefully dragged the condom off the bumpy, old penis and tied it off.

"Lick it off now," he ordered. I crinkled my nose and hesitated until he lifted his open hand above me. I quickly put my tongue against his soft black appendage, pushing it against his hairy thighs and balls.

"That's right, don't forget the bottom," he cautioned. "Treat it with reverence. You must treat every penis with reverence now," he told me, 'Give them kisses whenever you get the chance. Balls, too."

"What's 'reverence'"? I asked between licks.

"It's like worship," he explained, "Big or small, young or old, cock and balls are your life now, but you always liked them, didn't you."

I blushed, "I guess so."

"Now, dry it off against your face," he ordered, "And exercise. You need to keep in shape. Was it big?"

I rubbed my cheeks all around in his hairy, smelly crotch, "Was what big?"

"Your penis."

"Oh, I guess not," I replied shrugging.

"Well, no great loss, then."

"But I liked it."

"You did a good job, Tommy. How old are you again?"

"I'm Thirteen, and a quarter."

He nodded, "And when did they castrate you?"

"I was just barely twelve then," I told him, leaning back from his crotch, "They pinched the top of my peanut with that Buddy-zo tool."

The doctor nodded, "Perfect age."

"Perfect?" I asked him.

"They gelded you at just the right moment."

"They did it then only because Izzat was leaving the next day."

"It was God's will then. Much younger, and you'd just be an effete little swish. Much older, and you'd be all awkward and hairy, and resentful. I've seen them both."

"Really? You've seen other boys like... me?"

"Yes, I've seen a number of them over the years. African, Indian. I've done several of Izzat's servant boys since I came here. Each was a pleasure in their own way. But never a white one, until now," he smiled.

"That's kinda what Izzat said," I admitted.

"Well, you're quite the catch," he pinched my behind and laughed, "blond, European boys are few and far between here."

"I'm American."

"Even better. Now, I want you to come back every evening after sunset for... we'll call it therapy," he smiled up at me, "Go get something to eat, and clean yourself up before you come back."

"I thought I was going with the bride's family?"

"Oh, no, I heard the talks broke down."

"They cut my weenie off for nothing?"

"No, no. The family still appreciated that your Master Tameez and his family were happy to do it," he explained, "but there's some political trouble going on here at the moment. So they decided to pursue other options."

I was almost crying, "They cut my weenie off for nothing!?"

"It was God's will. It's done now, so don't think that way. Tell people you knew they were going to do it, and that you let them, to show them your obedience."

"I didn't let them. They tricked me," I protested.

"Half the servant boys around here are eunuchs – sons of His Excellency's enemies," he snickered briefly. "And I for one don't like to see another penis flopping around when I get pleasure from a eunuch. Many men don't, like His Excellency."

"Why not?"

"You should be concentrating our pleasure, not yours."

"Some of the other boys here are casterated too?"

"Yes, some, but not so cleverly. Izzat outdid himself with you."

"Me?

"The doctor then kissed my lips gently. "God bless that buddy-zo tool he found. It does a nice job... and their razor blade as well," he exclaimed, "I don't like fucking anything that could fuck me back someday."

7

I was met outside by the kitchen girl. The doctor came out and told me to follow her, and she and I went past several guards, past Izzat's rooms, and into the kitchen. She prepared some tea, a cup and saucer, and arranged it all on a silver tray.

"Now," the kitchen girl explained nervously, "bring this to His Excellency." She sent me down the hall to his office, where I knocked quietly on the door.

"Enter!" I heard from the other side. I bumped open the latch with my elbow and pushed a door open. The large, dimly lit room stank of cigar smoke. A big, black man in an open white shirt was sitting at a desk behind a haze of smoke. He looked up at me and immediately grinned.

"Ah, so here you are! The good doctor said you are ready. What's your name again, my gazelle?" His Excellency the President, asked.

"Tommy, sir."

"Come closer Gazelle!" he commanded with a laugh, "I remember when my son brought you around to report to me, just after that..." he flicked his cigar down at the direction of my crotch, "I turned around and there was this naked white boy, just standing there with a dazed look on his face. Do you remember that morning?"

I nodded without looking at him, set the tray on his desk and poured tea into the dainty porcelain cup.

"And now you are all healed up, and ready for action I'm told."

"Yes, sir." I set the pot down and handed him his cup and saucer which rattled softly in my hand. He set his cigar onto a silver ashtray to take the tea from my hand.

"Are you nervous about something?"

"No sir... maybe," I admitted with an awkward smile. I glanced into his eyes briefly. He took a sip of tea.

"For a century, white men have been coming here, to my country, emasculating our boys and fucking our girls. Did you know that?"

"No sir," it was incomprehensible to me that all these powerful men and boys could ever feel that way.

"Come here, sit on my lap. You look like American TV boy," he told me, "I'm one quarter European. My mother's father was a white trader."

"Really?" I asked him with a blush. He beckoned me to set down the teapot and join him on the other side of his huge desk. I went around and between his open thighs, and leaned my behind gently against one of his legs.

"When they brought your little penis back, and opened the cloth, we all couldn't help but laugh," he picked up his cigar again. "It was the smallest penis any of us have ever seen. So tiny, and so white." he paused for a moment, "We all thought: this is it?!" He chuckled at the memory of it and handed me a newspaper. "Spread some papers over on the floor back here – not on the rug – because before you leave, I'm going to fuck your little white ass until you pee."

"Yes, sir," I told him.

I finished laying out the papers, then walked back to his thigh. He set aside his tea and cigar, then unbuckled and unzipped his pants. I reached in to pull it out, while I slipped down to my knees. I couldn't take my eyes away, eagerly anticipating what would emerge. He dragged out something that would shame even his son's monster tool. black, thick-veined, and – I was shocked to see – completely uncircumcised like mine was. I finally looked straight up into his eyes in awe.

"Wow," I whispered.

"You like that, huh?"

"Yes sir," I was so impressed I hesitated for a long moment before the doctor's training kicked in and I bent down to kiss it gently.

"I bet you know how to use a foreskin."

"Yes sir," I said, smiling up at him.

"When I saw that little thing lying on the coffee table that day, I thought you would," he told me.

I had never gotten a chance to suck an uncut penis. I slid down under his desk and began by running the tip of my tongue along the edge, which was already retreating back from the damp, sticky head. The foreskin slipped back even more, and I found a gummy, bitter substance in my mouth, I backed off a moment to see that some gooey residue had collected behind the ridge of the large smooth head. I swallowed politely and decided to clean the area as much as I could get away with before I tried to put the whole fat thing down my throat. His Excellency sighed and took up his tea again. I gently opened his trousers some more, and tucked away the bottom of his shirt to find that the penis was even longer than I had first thought. It continued to extend itself as I took the entire head into my mouth and rolled my tongue over it in long lazy circles. The president hummed briefly. I felt his hand stroke the back of my head. I took a deep breath and swallowed like the doctor taught me, and began positioning my head and moving my mouth farther and farther over the black shaft. I took a second breath and forced the large, soft head down my throat with repeated swallowing. I pushed my mouth farther and farther along the shaft, fighting back the urge to gag, until lips and teeth were momentarily pressed against the black, crinkly hair on his belly, and my lungs began to protest, then pulled my mouth slowly off of it again, swallowing as I went, until it was again loose in my mouth and I could suck in a fresh breath.

"Again," he emphasized the word by pressing the back of my head against his penis again. I grasped a deep breath just in time to begin swallowing against it once again. My eyes began to tear and I tried to hurry the cycle, he let me engulf his shaft, but then held my face against his thick pubes. I began to choke on the shaft as my lungs began to burn. I tried to cough and began to panic. I tried to push myself away with my hands, but he took a grip on my hair with both hands and held my head in place. I couldn't speak, his penis was so deep. He chuckled and began tugging me off his penis by my hair. The moment my airway was free I gasped in air and began coughing, then wiped my eyes. I sniffled and rubbed some hairs off my mouth with the back of my hand, then wiped some urine off my little scrotum.

"Did you pee on my rug?!" he suddenly asked. I pressed my hand against the rug between my knees and found it warm and wet. I looked up at him biting my lower lip, but didn't respond. I heard the door open.

"Your Excellency, bad news," a male voice announce. I looked up for instructions, but he briefly pushed my head back onto his penis.

"Yes, yes, what is it?"

I could feel the newcomers' footfalls in the floor.

"General Sampson is no longer communicating with our headquarters, Your Excellency."

"I am not surprised," I heard from above, as his penis twitched in my mouth briefly.

"Also, your guest the Emir and his party have just left for the airport and hour ago."

I began to slide my mouth off the fat erection only to have a hand catch the back of my head as the general thrust his chair and himself forward.

"Very Well, leave us," the general ordered. His hand momentarily left my head as he offered a salute.

He stood up and presented a sandaled foot to me before the door was entirely closed. I remained on my knees to unbuckle and slip off the sandals. The black erection swung around bumping the top of my head, sagging under its own weight. Izzat's penis always hurt some, and this wet, black, monster swaying hypnotically before me was even a bit larger. I again bit my lower lip, anticipating that the entry would be painful, despite all the doctor's training. He gently directed me towards the newspapers, not bothering to undress any further. I reached for the condom I had placed discretely under the tray, but he stopped me. "Yes, yes, the doctor wants you to put that on me, but I don't care for those things. We don't always have to listen to him, do we."

"Yessir. I mean: No, sir."

He reached over to his desk with his cigar hand and pushed another section of the newspaper towards me. I picked it up from his desk and gently spread out sections on the floor at the side of his desk, as he watched me, occasionally taking long sips of tea. I was bent over facing away from him, laying sheets of paper onto the floor when he ordered me to stop. But when I straighten up, he objected.

"No, no, just stay as you are," his chair squeaked and I heard him take a step towards me. "That's quite a view," he said and I felt his warm toes probe between my legs.

"My son told me you wanted it." I felt a big toenail poke into my empty scrotum.

"I just told him I didn't want to get all hairy, and smelly. And Prince Tameez told me I could stay there and be his servant if they casterated me...Izzat said it wouldn't hurt... too much. But it really did!" I confessed, "It hurt so much when they did the first one I told them I wanted to stop, but they did the other one anyway."

A shiver ran up my spine as he dragged a toenail across my flat sack before he rose from his chair. Thumbs spread my behind open, as large hands took hold of me. I began preemptively pushing out when I felt the head of his penis bump against one side of my butt as it found its way to my waiting hole.

"It should always hurt, at least a bit, don't you think?" he replied, seemingly reading my mind. The paper crunched behind me. I felt a hand on my shoulder turn me around. I again bit my lower lip. He looked down at the front of my body now, as I cowered back onto the papers, looking up at him, remembering that this was the way Izzat first took me, as he lifted my legs apart and up into the air. I heard the pop-pop-pop of something in the distance as His Excellency pushed his chubby, black tool into my waiting hole, and I gave a little grunt of relief, pain, and pleasure as he stretched out my hole to just beyond comfort. "How old are you?" he suddenly asked.

"Thirteen, and a half."

"And when did my son geld you?"

"I was just, barely twelve then, sir."

Little squirts of urine bubbled out of my scar as he pushed his tool in deeper. He saw it and frowned.

"I told them to leave enough for you to hold your pee in. 'Just take half' I told them," his voice faltered, "No one listens to me anymore!"

"It was Master Ali who cut it. Master Izzat just held me against the table."

"Turn over," he ordered while pulling out, "Not going to be pissed on by a neutered white boy. Not tonight."

"Yes sir, " rolled over and presented my behind to him again, and moaned a bit loud when the penis charged back in, driving along my prostrate as I felt an involuntary squirt beneath me. He pulled out and thrust hard again, and I just gave up with a sigh and let all the urine go. Again he pushed his penis into me, hard. So hard I tried to jerk my body out from under him, but his weight pinned me down so effectively all I could do was flail my arms a bit. "Oh!" I muttered as he dragged it out and pushed it in, trying my best to push out against it when he made his thrusts. There was another knock on the door.

"What now?!" The general shouted.

"Attack on the back gate, Sir," came the response from beyond the door.

"Damn," he muttered, then shouted "Oh, come in!" as he pulled himself off of me, and began arranging his trousers. The door flew open and a man marched up to the front of the desk. "Clean up those newspapers and get out," he ordered me. The officer watched as I got up to my feet. He glanced at me, my naked crotch, and the wet oval in the center of the newsprint on the floor before turning his attention back to the General. I quickly scooped up the papers and trotted out of the room, leaving my clothes and the tea set behind. There stood my friend the Corporal and another black soldier, weapons in hand, each nervously watching opposite ends of the hallway. The Corporal glanced over and looked me up and down, "Get out of here, you little whore. All hell is breaking loose."

I just stared at him clutching a big, soggy wad of newssheets to my chest with both hands. The other guard took a double-take at my crotch.

"They left the Arab gelding behind, they were in such a hurry."

"Who?"

"The Arabs. They left for the airport about noon."

Again I heard a not to distance pop-pop-pop. Both the soldier returned to watching the south end of the hallway.

"You heard me! Get out of here!" The Corporal used the muzzle of his machine gun to gesture north towards the kitchen, so I took off in that direction. I pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, and dumped my newspapers on the floor. As soon as I did the windows flashed bright white, then shattered with a deafening noise. I dived beside a big stove and scrambled into the greasy, gritty space behind it. Hour after hour, I heard a burst of gun-fire both near and far, punctuated randomly with flashes from the windows, some of which even shook the floor.

8

I awoke to hear pots falling onto the concrete floor. I peeked out from behind the stove to see a couple boys in their late teens, with automatic rifles slung over their backs. They were looking into cupboards, examining items, and generally making a mess of the place. Suddenly one whipped his weapon off his back and pointed it at the stove. The other boy noticed and immediately did the same. Shaking, I slowly wiggled out from behind the stove, streaked with black grease, rat droppings, and dust. Still naked, I covered my crotch with a hand, realizing too late that their interest was drawn to the jiggling of my tiny titties. They looked me up and down for a moment, smiled at each other, and approached me. One boy strolled behind me, while the other gently fingered one of my nipples. The first boy slid his hand over my behind as he walked around me. He stood next to his friend and used the muzzle of his gun to gently nudge my hand away from my crotch. He poked the muzzle at my soft, empty scrotum, then said something to his friend, who turned his attention to my crotch as well. The gun-muzzle poked and nudged my crotch, searching unsuccessfully for an opening. The boys then exchanged a few questioning words before the gun was again slung over his shoulder and my scars were explored with dirty, black fingers. Then the turned me around, and I felt the cool metal of the gun barrel nudge and goose my loose, open anus. Loud rap-music began to play outside in the courtyard. The boys went over to one of the blown out windows to see, then went back to rummaging through the kitchen. I moved over to the door back to the His Excellency's office, where I had left my clothes the evening before. Young black men with guns in civilian clothes moved into and out of the hallway. I walked cautiously down the hall, but one of the rebels saw me, grinned, then waved me back to the kitchen. The boys who examined me earlier hardly noticed my return. I moved as close as I could to the windows without having to walk on the broken glass. The courtyard seemed much as I remembered it, except someone had parked a pickup truck in the center, with a big gun on the back. The hip-hop music was blaring out from its open doors. One of the boys looting the kitchen looked at me again. He reached into a bag and tossed me a worn set of flip-flops. He was wearing an unlaced pair of black soldier boots, which seemed odd combined with his maroon shorts and a ragged yellow t-shirt. I stepped into the flip-flops and moved to door to the courtyard, hoping to find something more to wear. Some papers were tumbling slowly across the yard. Another armed teen-ager came along, looked me over with a grin, and shooed me to the truck. I saw a dead soldier through a window. A younger man with a holster on his hip was sitting inside. The man shouted and one of the boys came out from the kitchen. The young man pointed at me, and the boy just shrugged in response, then pointed at me and spoke at some length. The young man studied my crotch for a long moment, and motioned for me to move my hand and expose myself.

"What is your name?" he asked as he studied my dirty body.

"Tommy Abdul-Ghaffer," I told him.

"You a boy?" he asked, incredulous, still examining my crotch.

"I... yes, but..." I lowered my voice, "... I was kinda casterated."

"Kinda Castrated?" he asked.

I nodded and covered myself up again.

"Who did that?" he asked.

Not at all sure what was going on, I thought it wise to take the doctor's earlier advice. "Some black boys."

He shouted in another direction, and heard an acknowledgement from the other end of the courtyard.

"Just wait here," he ordered. Then, as an afterthought, he reached behind the truck seat and pulled out an old rag of a t-shirt, and tossed it to me. I gratefully pulled it over my head. A section had been torn off, so it didn't reach to my crotch unless I stretched it down with my hand. Trotting along from the opposite end of the courtyard came the doctor – disheveled and with hands tied behind his back – with one of the rebels prodding him along from behind.

"What do you know about this filthy white kid?" the young man sternly asked, pointing at me.

The doctor glanced between me and the young man. "Oh, that's a servant boy left here by the Arabs."

"He says black boys castrated him."

"His penis was cut off recently," the doctor seemed unconcerned, "I was told it was an accident."

"A accident?" the young man answered back.

"I was told that," the doctor repeated, glancing at me, "but I had nothing to do with it."

"Is that true, kid? the young man asked.

"He stitched it up after Ali cut my winnie off," I explained.

"They told me it was a shaving accident."

"A shaving accident?!"

"That's what they told me at the time," the doctor insisted, "he was intended to be a wedding gift – a servant boy for a young woman."

The man seemed satisfied. "So, what does he DO here?"

"The Arabs princes make boys like that to guard their women, and other things..." the doctor hinted with a wink.

The man looked me up and down again.

"Where's your passport?" The man asked me.

I just shrugged in response.

"I'll have to bring this to my superiors," the man concluded, "Put him in with the other internationals," The man ordered the doctor's escort. The guard waved his gun at me to begin walking back from where they came, with the doctor and him following close behind. We weren't ten steps away when the doctor said quietly "Not bad, is it." I looked back to see them both examining my behind. My new shirt was too short to cover both front and back at once. The guard snorted. "That's his purpose, you know."

"What do ya mean?" the guard asked, "I'm no poofter."

"Me either! the doctor explained, "I don't care to fuck anything with a penis, Do I Tommy."

"No, Sir,"

"Why not?"

"You said because it could fuck you back."

The doctor laughed, "He's completely passive, uninterested in and unable to reciprocate."

But the guard just shrugged.

I was put in a room with five other boys around my age, almost all of them servant boys who I'd seen around the presidential compound. We all sat around doing nothing for a few hours, until the door opened and two men and a woman came in.

"These are all we found so far," one man told the woman, who was looking us up and down. The other man began setting up a camera tripod. The woman gestured toward the opposite wall, The man nodded and ordered us, "clothes off and line up against the wall." The woman laid out a white cloth and a cigar box on the floor.

"Everything?" the smallest boy asked shyly.

"You can leave your sandals on." the man responded.

As we all undressed I tried to get a peek at some of the other boys, but they were all very careful to hide themselves. Finally we were all settled down standing in a line against the wall, facing the camera, discretely covering ourselves. The camera man gestured for us to squeeze together, and we shuffled closer until our shoulders and elbows were bumping. I glanced over to the woman, who had put on rubber gloves and was arranging several objects on the cloth. But then the man ordered us with gestures to put our hands to our sides. All of us boys hesitated and looked at each other. The man said something very sternly, looking at the biggest boy, who looked at the camera, then down at his feet, and then let his hands drop to his sides. I saw his hairy black crotch, with a plump, dark ball sack underneath, but no penis in between. The boy next to him also let his hands fall. His crotch was hairless and empty like mine, but mangled and scarred by a crude emasculation. The man started to turn in my direction and I too immediately let my hands fall away, taking my turn to be the object of the adults' and boys' transitory glances. The boy on the other side of me let his hand fall at the same time as mine, and exposed his own twisted, scarred knot below and a twitching centimeter-long stub. I craned my head a bit to see the other two boys, both a bit taller than me, both sporting immature, little stubs standing out above dark, ablated sacks. I only then realized that Izzat's claim to have castrated more boys wasn't idle bragging. The flash of the camera made me look up and cover myself again, but the man in charge immediately gestured it away again. The camera flashed two more times as we all shifted around nervously. The camera man nodded and popped the camera off its tripod. We all covered ourselves up again as he turned his attention to the woman and her display. Lined up on the cloth were eight dark, finger-like sticks of various lengths, three much larger the rest, with a lone ashen nub half the size of the next smallest. The camera flashed at the little display next. I realized what they were, and while the owners of the black ones were no longer easily assignable to their former owners, the pallid little specimen obviously would be linked to me.

"What are you going to do with those photos?" the boy next to me asked.

The woman responded, "We are documenting the abuses of the previous regime."

"Who's gonna see them?"

"The United Nations," the woman announced.

"Those, too?" I asked, glancing down at the crinkled shafts.

"Yes, those as well," the woman responded.

One of the boys looked towards my crotch and then back at the collection of severed penises, "Yours was tiny," the boy informed me.

"Can we put our clothes back on now?" the biggest boy asked the woman.

She looked over to the camera man, who was examining the back of his fancy camera, "Let's do some individual shots as well," he advised. So we were lined up in front of the tripod, and each of us were photographed again while the other man watched and the woman gingerly put Izzat's little trophies back into the cigar box. Finally we were allowed to put our clothes back on, even if all I had was the ragged t-shirt the young soldier gave me earlier. The adults all left, and we were left alone for the rest of the day with the man bringing us cooked rice and water to drink, and even bringing me a pair of shorts. Only at sunset we were all moved out of the room, out of the presidential compound, and onto a minibus. Through the night we bumped along on the rough roads. Late the next morning we arrived at a large, dusty compound full of boys of all ages. We were lined up again and sent into a large communal shower where we were all given soap, a towel, a clean set of clothes, and told to wash up. Then we were given breakfast of rice and beans, and assigned beds in our own little dorm room. Within a couple weeks each of us found a boyfriend among the senior boys in the orphanage. But I was no longer a slave and could choose which boy I wanted to go with. After about a year the woman who came to take our pictures in the presidential mansion just after the coup came, and asked us to write down our stories for her.

This one is mine.

The End