This is my first attempt at creative writing. Please, if you’re going to leave feedback, keep this in mind. Thank you.

—please, please, please, whined the slave boy, the knees of his sheer white thigh-highs torn and dirtied from so much time spent on the filthy concrete floor. Please, master, don’t take this worthless slave’s balls, please!

The boy, a male only to the outside world, of which he was no longer apart, trembled at the feet of his master, who was a giant of a man, easily six-and-a-half-feet-tall and two-hundred pounds of flesh, muscle and bone, compared to his slave’s measly five-foot-four and one-hundred pounds soaking wet. He held in his hands a banding device. Small, made of stainless steel, it glittered menacingly under the now-bright lights. He played with it, moving it from hand to hand, making sure the quivering boy never lost sight of it.

—To whom do you belong, said the master, finally deigning to address the pathetic mess before him.

—to you, master, this slave belongs to you.

—And who decides your fate?

—you do, master.

—That’s right. So if I say I’ve decided you’re to lose your useless balls, what possible difference do you think begging will make?

—master, please forgive me, master.

There was a sniveling quality to the boy’s voice. Desperation made it rise several octaves.

—Why? He looked down at the feminized little faggot with so much scorn the boy cringed. Why should I forgive you? You’ve been nothing but trouble for me. Always questioning, begging, trying to top me from the bottom… Give me one good reason why you should keep your balls.

—master, what if… the boy began, but trailed off, his lower lip, plumped with silicon and painted bright, cock-sucking red, disappeared between his teeth. He bit until he drew blood.

—Yes, slave. What if…?

—master, what if this slave…, again, the boy choked on his words. He tried several times to convey the thought repeating over and over in his mind. The one thing he imagined would save his pathetic and painfully-full balls from a slow, painful, and irreversible death.

—If you don’t answer me right now I’ll smash your balls with a hammer and make you eat them, pussyboy.

—master, what if this slave were to ever leave, master?

At this the master froze in place. He stood absolutely still for a painfully long time, while the sissy watched, nervously hanging on his every movement. The laughter came suddenly, booming, painfully loud as it echoed throughout the close confines of the dungeon. At the sound of it, the sissy shed a single tear of resignation.

—Leave? When do you think that stopped being an option for you? After the lip injections? The breast implants?

The sissy said nothing, just kept his head down and his eyes on the small, hairless clit between his legs. As he watched it twitched, once more, for the nth time since it had been locked away what felt like years ago, always struggling to get hard against the plastic. And, as always, it failed miserably. The word failure as a though passed through his, or rather, her mind in a number of guises. But none of them symbolized the absolute reality more than the drip, drip, drip of his pre-cum dribbling out and onto the floor.

—Face it, sissy. You’re mine, bitch, mind, body and soul. Remember when you came to me, on the eve of your seventeenth birthday?

The sissy said nothing. His master took a step toward him and put a hand over his own leather-clad crotch, where a noticeable bulge was growing.

—Answer me!

—yes, master, this slave remembers.

—And you remember you gave yourself to me willingly. Begged me to take you, begged to be mine forever, am I correct?

—yes, master.

—That was over a year ago, sissy. Your parents, your family, your friends, they’ve all forgotten about you. The teenaged boy you were is dead to them. The only reality that exists for you is this one. You’re dead without me, and you’re never, ever going to leave this place alive.

—…

—Nothing to say to that?

The master watched his property closely. Although he had conditioned this sissy well, it was never clear what a sissy might do when confronted with something so profoundly unsettling as the knowledge he’d just conveyed to her.

The sissy raised his gaze to meet that of his master for the first time in a long time. Then… he burst into tears.

They were thick tears, wet and uncontrollable, more the tears of a small child with a scraped knee than an eighteen-year-old with fake tits about to lose his balls. They were music to his master’s ears, and the tall, powerful man found himself unable to resist the opportunity his sissy’s open mouth presented. Removing his long, throbbing, uncircumcised cock from its hot prison, he shifted the banding device to his right hand and, with his left, took hold of his sissy’s lustrous, shoulder-length black hair and forced his cock right down the sissy’s throat. The sissy panicked at first, finding himself unable to breath, but then the months and months of conditioning kicked in and he was able to steal a few gurgling breaths around the thrusts and was able to concentrate on fulfilling his life’s one remaining purpose: satisfying his master.

The entire time he slobbered over his master’s cock he never stopped sobbing. It was the best blowjob he had ever given, but it ended prematurely, in spite of his mewling protests, when the master suddenly withdrew his cock from the sissy’s mouth. There was a moment of confusion, the look on the little slut’s face absolutely priceless, and then the master did something that the sissy never, not in a million years, saw coming:

He wound back and drove his booted foot straight into the offending organ.

Pain overloaded the sissy’s mind and he felt the blackness of unconsciousness start in. However, he was prevented from passing out by his body’s second reaction to the blow: bending over, he vomited out the meager contents of his stomach and collapsed onto his side. That’s when his master swooped in.

Removing the key from its place around his neck, he unlocked the cb6000s and freed the little faggot’s clit for the first time in over a year. Immediately, in spite of the pain it must have caused the little shit, it became hard, which greatly amused the master, since he knew it was all for naught. Applying the bands was easy – he had done it enough times – but getting the chastity device back on proved to be more difficult than he’d thought it to be. In the end, he had to resort to squeezing the black-and-blue plums until his bitch really did pass out and the pain made his erection subside. Then he flipped the sissy onto his front and brought both wrists together behind his back, where he handcuffed them in place.

—Hope you enjoyed the attention, bitch, he growled at the inert form beneath him. For a moment he considered taking the sissy’s unconscious ass and fucking it harder than he’d ever fucked it before. It would be the work of a moment, and he absolutely adored the garter his sissy had chosen to wear that morning, but in the end he decided against it. Better to wait until his balls were well and truly dead, so there was no chance of the little cunt ever experiencing even the slightest trace of pleasure again.

Whistling softly to himself he left the slave to await the death of his balls alone in the dark.

On his backthe sissy lay, sobbing in the dark. At first things didn’t feel so bad and he merely criedbecause it made him feel better. Then, though, as the pain began and continued to get worse and worse, he cried for that, too. After a few hours it was bad. After a few days, it became excruciating. But then something strange happened. One morning, he didn’t know how many mornings after the fateful one master had applied the bands, the pain disappeared. His balls were dead.