Goodwin Prescott
the Ranch. 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE: 
By 2012, following eighteen years of GOP control of Congress and twelve years of Republican presidents following Pat Buchanan's stunning upset win over Al Gore, the states' rights rebellion was complete and almost complete control given to the states over matters within their borders. Arizona became the first to address the serious problems of over-population, high crimes among young males, severe, chronic unemployment among that group and related social ills.

Under the so-called "Arizona Plan" all males between nineteen and twenty-eight were required to be in school, the US military, or in full-time employment. A boy or young man had two weeks within which to locate employment if he was not in the military or in school or lost his employment. Failing that, he was declared to be a public nuisance and lost all civil rights.

His body became state property and was committed to one of several termination centers around the state to be euthanized. His meat was processed into pet food, his bones ground into fertilizer meal, his entrails wholesaled to pig farms established close to the centers.

Of course years of litigation followed, even as state after state established similar systems, standing by for implementation if upheld. In the landmark case of Rheinstein v. Arizona, the "Buchanan" Supreme Court upheld the plan as a valid exercise of state power, the state being found to have a substantial, documented interest in controlling the size and activity of its young male population.

The court also upheld the statutes enacted by various states permitting young males to enter into binding, irrevocable employment agreements by which they became the property -- slaves -- of their employers through age thirty-five.

Within the first year after the process was unleashed following the Rheinstein decision, termination centers across America disposed of an estimated six hundred thousand males and generated several billion dollars in new revenue for state coffers, most were the eighteen year olds graduating from high school who could not find the required employment and either surrendered themselves to the centers or were picked up by the authorities.

The military could take only so many and became very selective, colleges swiftly became packed full, and employers were swift to invoke the new slavery laws and refused to accept employees whom they did not own.

Once a male was owned, the employee/slave's treatment was solely the concern of the employer and no interference from the government was permitted. It was estimated that nearly ten million "new" slaves were created within the first year -- the young men preferring slavery over death, even though most of the slaves would, in truth, be worked to death before they reached the magic age of thirty-five when they were emancipated. And it was the clear hope and intent of the legislatures that very few of the slaves would be released from bondage.

The effects on society were stunning. The population quickly went into negative growth, literacy shot up, there were virtually no school dropouts anymore, crime dropped by a shocking seventy percent, industrial and economic productivity rose dramatically with the stabilized, low-cost work force that had been created overnight, though the Germans, Koreans and Japanese, who promptly adopted even more rigorous versions of the Arizona Plan, continued to dominate world trade).

The American family unit knitted back together as a haven for the young males in the unit, with fathers drawing sons into their own spheres of employment or business activity such as farming. Terrified youth got very serious about finding a productive niche in society.

Needless to say, those first years were traumatic for the nation. Tough medicine to resolve serious problems. But swiftly the hordes of undesirable, useless youth were eliminated and, in turn, fewer and fewer of their sort were produced. The quality of the gene pool in America improved with speed that amazed geneticists. Quality of life for the intelligent and productive elements of society improved dramatically.

The numbers of young men going to termination centers swiftly declined year by year and soon most states had only a single center. Nationally fewer than fifty thousand were being euthanized annually. The hue and cry by the opponents of the plan gradually died away as the success became clear.

As upcoming generations were educated from childhood on about it they just accepted it as the way things were and were quite comfortable with it. They were really amused at the few older adults who still dwelled on the old-fashioned notion about equality, individual value, and immorality of killing or enslavement of the less talented, intelligent or fortunate members of their age group.

After a few years, though, a shortage occurred in the market and prices soared so the government instituted a minimum child-per-family law, with all but one child per family male through the use of sex ratio drugs in water supplies. This turned around the paucity of supply in just one generation to a fabulous surplus that again drove prices down to a very reasonable level.

While most males would end up being butchered, all were nominally mainlined in the educational system, though only about ten percent of boys were allowed to attend classes with girls -- the ten percent believed to be most likely to find jobs, go on to further schooling or the military.

Even in most homes, boys were treated more like animals than prized offspring. Only the smartest were treated almost as good as girls. So most accepted their fate -- that is, until they were forced to accept the brutal reality of what was in store for most of them in scared straight programs.

Even so, there was no real resistance, much as there was no real organized rebellion against the institution of slavery in major slave nations of the past -- it was part of the aether, part of the weltbilt -- it was just what was, the way things were and there was nothing to change it.

Goodwin Prescott
the Ranch

My first and very lasting impression of the "Arizona Plan" operating in my native state of Colorado was my class visit to the Colorado State Youth Termination Center outside of Denver as part of the "scared straight" program in my high school. All of the males in my Sophomore class were required to take the tour to see what awaited if we didn't take the law seriously.

If there were any doubters among my peers, they changed their minds fast when we were taken into the actual processing plant to watch a group of eighteen and nineteen year old recent high school grads pay the penalty for not going to college, getting into the military, or getting a job ... or selling themselves into slavery.

I actually found it pretty interesting. Growing up on a ranch I was used to blood and gore. Also, since I had a guaranteed place at the ranch after graduating, I was shielded from any risk of winding up either here or in slavery. They were pretty damn efficent, I'll hand them that. A guarded van discharged the first twenty guys being processed that morning.

They were trembling and obviously terrified as they stumbled into the reception entry of the plant. They were already naked and their hands were chained together. Some were sobbing. A worker with a power injector gun fired into each's biceps almost as quick as each stepped through the door. The powerful tranquilizer took effect within seconds and the young guys became like zombies, dully cooperating.

They grabbed number one, a tall kid with a slim body and reddish hair and made him step onto a little round stand on a conveyor belt. His chained wrists were drawn over his head and attached to a hook. Right behind him a buff younger looking kid with long blond hair was attached to the next hook and so on until the first half dozen were attached.

Then with a loud hum the system moved and the boys were lifted up by their wrists. That's when I noticed that a bar had been inserted between their ankles that forced their legs widely apart as they were slowly transported down the processing line.

At the first station, a worker using a small torch expertly divested the redhead of his body hair with a quick, practiced sweep of the flame to singe it off. The big auburn pubic thicket at the boy's crotch flared up with a soft crackle we could hear all the way across the room from our observation stand.

The assembly line actually pivoted the dangling youth to give the worker access to all parts of the body with his flame. When he finished, he popped a foot pedal and the now smooth body moved on to the next station and the first worker sent a little tongue of flame into the pubic hair of the blond boy who was second in line..

We watched closely as the second worker took a firm grip on the first kid's big genitals, pulled them out from his body and, with a swift circular slash with a curving razor-sharp blade, cut them off in one package -- cock and balls all together. He dropped the severed organs into a large bucket for sale to specialty meat markets and restaurants.

Blood spurted furiously from the boy's wounded crotch and began to drain from him into a gutter below even as the belt now carried him to a third worker who was prepared to gut him. The pain from the swift gelding had penetrated the guy's doped brain enough that the body flexed and writhed a little and we heard a moaning cry of anguish burst from his lips.

The third worker let the blood drain for a bit and then deftly jabbed a thin knife into the redhead's groin and with a rapid jig-saw-like jitter slit the boy open from crotch to breastbone in a couple, three seconds. The boy's belly burst open like a bloated dead pig's belly that's been baking in the sun for a couple days.

His intestines pushed out in a frothy pink puff that sort of hovered there in front of him for a few seconds before suddenly dropping with a plop, the whole larger and smaller intestines falling in one unit. With a couple quick slashes, the worker slit the anus and esophagus so stomach to anus fell away into a huge plastic bin below, scheduled as high protein slop for the pig farm next door.

About that time, the circular knife was completing its bloody trip between the blond kid's splayed thighs as his genitals were removed. Next to me one of the real useless shit kids in my class got sick and I knew he was seeing himself on that conveyor belt in the not distant future. I got a real kick out of that.

After that the carcass of the dead redhead moved on for beheading and chopping off the feet and finally the hands, allowing the carcass to drop onto a beltway that took it to the butchering operation where it was skinned and the meat butchered from the skeleton.
.

.
The chunks of meat were channeled to a cooking plant to be minced and roasted and canned into the now familiar "Boy Brand" dog and cat food tins now found throughout the state in stores. The skeleton went to the fertilizer plant to be ground into bone meal. A really efficient operation. Things were pretty quiet on the bus on the way back to school.

That was when I was sixteen. My class graduated two years later and a number of them, including that one kid next to me who had nearly vomited on my sneakers, had, in fact, gone to the CSYTC for processing. I wondered later if I had fed part of George to my dogs at some point. I rather hoped so.

By the time I was twenty, I was playing a major role in operating my dad's ranch and about to start my own personal cattle operation on an older spread that he had bought out years ago. We relied pretty heavily on slave labor and I intended to go that route in recruiting my own hands.

Thus I was pretty interested when the annual big 4-H/FFA auction rolled around as part of the county fair. In an exciting modern addition, after selling their prize steers, lambs, pigs and whatever, a number of the senior boys in the clubs, who were about to graduate, would put themselves up for bidding to become slaves in ranching or farming operations. It was smart because it guaranteed them a place in a rather tight job market.

I noticed there were more than a dozen of the young cowboy eighteeners listed to be sold and as I made my rounds of the stalls examining the animals raised -- my dad and I are major supporters of 4-H/FFA. I also took a gander at the boys who would be auctioned later in the evening.

At one of the first stalls I admired a really handsome steer that had been raised and fattened with obvious skill by the very handsome buff youth proudly standing close by -- Larry Hanson by name, a hunky eighteen year old senior. He was listed for sale and I evaluated him as much as his steer. He was well aware of my interest and who I was and offered no objection as I pulled his shirt up and ran a hand over his rock-hard, cut belly and hard pec swells.

I liked the big brown nipples crowning his breast swells -- they would nicely take the steel slave rings we always inserted. I squeezed his thick bicepses to test their strength and was impressed -- this boy would be a good worker, I suspected, as that already excellent body developed into full maturity. Many years of good hard labor to be extracted for just feeding, clothing and housing him and providing whatever level of medical care we chose.

But that was why the boy was instantly excited that he had my attention. It was well known that conditions on our spread for the slave cowboys was by far the best around. The food was good and plentiful, housing clean, warm and comfortable, and there was excellent medical care and pretty reasonable work hours with recreation allowed and facilities provided. My dad was really a softy compared to the other ranchers who often treated their slaves like shit and worked them to death in just a couple of years or so.

The Hanson kid was a really cute boy with a thick mop of wavy blond hair and big blue eyes ... cornflower blue my mother would call them. He had a pert nose displaying a few light freckles. His mouth was full-lipped and moist and his jaw-line was square and solid. I already knew that if I succeeded in buying him, I'd be bedding him -- most slaves pretty much expected to be used sexually -- at least in the ranching environment -- and it was perfectly legal. The rape, assault and similar laws did not apply to slaves. Not even the murder laws.

The boy's big blue eyes stayed on me as I carefully felt his thick, corded muscles in the lightly furred thighs. Larry very cooperatively dropped his pants without my even asking so I could continue to examine him as a prospective bidder.

"So, sir, do you think you're gonna be bidding on me?"
He sounded almost pathetically hopeful and I realized how scary it must be to be in his situation.

I pulled out the waistband of his tighty-whitey briefs to take a quick look at his male endowment and was impressed by the size of that creamy, ivory-skinned cock with its big helmet head nestled in the coarse locks of his curly pubic hair. The moist, slightly sweaty musk aroma of his healthy male body hit my nostrils and I loved his smell. I nodded.

"I'll bid all right. But let's hope you sell cheap. I'll only go so high. I'd like to have you, though, so I'll probably hang in there longer than I would on the others I've seen so far."
I loved the auction. It was so wonderfully primitive and barbaric to be buying a living human boy in public like that in competition with other bidders. More normally a dude seeking a job at the ranch would apply, be screened and, if there was an opening and he fit the bill, a price would be haggled with the funds to either be put in trust for him when he reached thirty-five, or paid over to anyone he might designate either now or if he died before thirty-five -- which almost always happened on other ranches, though a pretty good number of our men survived.

On average these days, my dad and I would pay about three thousand dollars for a good slave. We could have driven hard bargains in light oi the huge number of available candidates and their desperate need to be bought, but hated to be that greedy. Some ranchers were paying as little as a thousand, some even less.

"I imagine you know most of the others being sold."
I let Larry draw his levis back up and tuck in his shirt.
"Any tips on who the best buys might be? Besides yourself, of course."

"Of course."

The boy grinned and charming dimples appeared to both sides of his gorgeous mouth. I thought how nice it would be to put my cock in that mouth and shuddered with pleasure at the thought.
"Actually most of them are pretty good guys, but frankly a little lazy. I'll give you the names of a few to definitely avoid -- they'll be trouble for their owners. Most of the others will come around under proper training.
xxxx"Best buy here will definitely be the Rasmussen twins, Tim and Terry. Both are real big, muscular guys who'll work their hearts out for you. Both are real good-natured, with a good sense of humor.
xxxx"Neither has real brains, but I don't think you're buying them for that. Truth is, as much as I hate to admit it, they oughta be your prime objective rather than me."
And that bit of honesty really impressed me. This kid was a class act. And I was finding him more appealing by the minute. I started to wander off to check out these twins when Larry asked if he could ask me a question. I readily consented and he looked pretty embarrassed.
"I was just curious, sir, just in case you did buy me. I hear that ... well ... that on your ranch the guys you buy ... get to ... uh ... keep their penises. Is that true?"
I felt a little wave of sympathy for him, which surprised me -- I'm usually pretty hands-off on the slaves emotionally.
"That's true," I nodded. "My dad sees no need to remove the cocks the way most of the other ranchers do. We geld you all, of course, so there's no unwanted sexual urges interfering with your concentration on your work."
The boy nodded eagerly.
"Oh sure, that goes without saying. I mean, it makes real sense that you wouldn't want us to have our balls. I just wondered about the penis."

"For what it's worth, we apply only a very tiny brand too, high on the right buttock or sometimes high up inside the right thigh just below the crotch. Not like the terribly scarring big brands the other ranchers seem to like.
xxxx"One thing we do that the others don't for the most part is insert metal tethering rings through both nipples and the head of the cock.
xxxx"Then if you're going to be whipped, which doesn't happen all that much and a lot of guys never get the lash, you're locked by the rings onto a post in front of you. It's erotic as hell to watch a guy punished like that."

I didn't mention that this was a process invented by myself. I'd already had a punishment post installed at my new ranch-house similar to the one at the main ranch headquarters.

Larry's eyes got wider and a hand slipped up to subconsciously lightly touch one of the ripe, rubbery tits jutting out through the material of his tee shirt as he contemplated having those super-tender erectile rose buds thickly pierced. I could almost read his mind.

"Yeah, it hurts like a bitch when we run the thick curving needles through those and especially when we do the head of the prick. But if the guy wants, we deaden him first so that he doesn't feel much. Same with the gelding."
He looked really surprised at hearinq that.
"I didn't think any of the ranchers wasted money on anesthetics in ... modifying ... a slave's body."

"We're the only outfit that does," I confirmed.

"But wouldn't it be more ... enjoyable ... for you if the guy felt you, you know, doing that stuff to him. I mean, I would even enjoy seeing it done to a guy and hearing him squeal."

I laughed and clamped the boy on the shoulder in an affectionate little squeeze.
"There's no question about that, but my dad doesn't like putting you guys through any more pain than is really necessary."

"But," he said, "You said you were recruiting for your own ranch now, so couldn't you make your own policies about that?"

I had mentioned that to the boy and nodded thoughtfully. I had, in fact, actually contemplated penis amputations as well as operating without the fairly expensive anesthesia. I had decided not to go that route, primarily because of my dad's feelings on the subject. But I looked at Larry with contemplation.
"Sounds to me like you're trying to argue your way into some big league suffering, lad."
The boy's broad shoulders shrugged.
"If you succeed in buying me, I want you to have all the use and enjoyment I can give you. I believe in honoring commitments all the way. So if it would give you pleasure to do my cutting and piercing without the anesthesia, I'll be happy to do that for you."
And boy that attitude won my admiration! I liked Larry enough that I wouldn't likely let him really suffer the terrible pain we were discussing, but his willingness was wonderful.

The Rasmussen twins certainly looked as good as Larry had described. Both were husky, good-looking jocks of medium height and granite muscle with dark auburn-brown hair and lively cat-green eyes and deep golden tans.

They too were perfectly happy to let me feel out their strong, sleek-skinned bodies, cooperatively doffing their shirts and dropping jeans to their ankles. They just grinned a little self-consciously when I checked out the very ample contents of their shorts and admired their absolutely identical gorgeous bubble butts. Oh yes, I'd be bidding on these two as a matched pair.

I was also impressed with a tall, slim, willowy teen named Chancellor (Chance) Andrews, with silky bronze-blond hair, sultry boyish good looks and a lean, hard, graceful musculature. He was sexy as hell and there was a really tough look in the pale blue eyes. He was, in my judgment, a good investment as a future manager of men, maybe even foreman material if he matured out as strong-willed as I suspected.

And when he let me take a peek inside his Calvin Klein bright red bikini briefs I gasped at the size and thickness of his pants snake and found myself immensely curious about how big the monster would be aroused. He was tanned all over to a luscious peachy brown, including his crotch, which suggested boy wonder had been doing some naughty nude sunbathing. None of the other "lots" -- as each boy was termed in the sale -- interested me enough to bid.

I succeeded in buying Larry's steer for a higher price than he could have expected and promptly donated it in the name of the ranch to the local Boys' & Girls' Club to reauction to raise money. Larry smiled at me and waved in thanks. I also bought Chance's blue ribbon hog to serve up at the ranch. That earned me a curious but appreciative glance from that golden Adonis' cool, pale eyes.

There were a pretty fair number of bidders on the 4-H/FFA boys when they came up on the dock. Each boy was displayed in a skimpy cotton posing pouch that fully displayed their finely developed, nubile young bodies. The first several brought good prices in spirited bidding, averaging about four thousand dollars a kid. The speaker got my attention.

"Lot number four, ladies and gentlemen, Timothy and Terrance Rasmussen, twin brothers, eighteen years of age, five feet, ten inches, one hundred sixty pounds.
xxxx"Look at this matched set of young gems. All lean muscle. Lot of strength and endurance, capable of really good hard labor for a sustained period.
xxxx"To be sold as a pair. Who'll open at fifteen hundred dollars."
Someone did and quickly the bidding became hot. This was probably the best of the show and lots of ranchers wanted these two, especially at two for one. It was up to three thousand dollars in just minutes, then stalled. I waited while the auctioneer begged for bids, decrying the "steal" these two would be. Just before he would have slammed the gavel, I signaled thirty-five hundred.

There were more bids. I offered forty-five hundred. More bids. I raised to six thousand. That was successful and the gavel slammed down as I became the proud owner of the handsome Rasmussen boys. And, a bit later...

"Lot number eight, Chancellor Andrews, eighteen years, ten months of age, six foot even, one hundred fifty pounds of pure, hard muscle. And look at that tan! He's also an honors student and president of the 4-H/FFA this year. We don't get boys of this quality on the block very often. Lets start bidding for this prize stud at two thousand dollars."
I was impressed. So Chance was smart too. That just confirmed my thoughts about the man he would be. I was puzzled why a youngster of such quality wasn't heading to college or even the military, but was awfully glad he wasn't as I joined the frenzied bidding to buy his golden body. It got to a point that I contemplated dropping out but I wanted him pretty badly. I eventually got him for an outrageous five thousand dollars, feeling just a bit foolish at spending such a price for a mere slave cowboy.

By then I knew that I had to buy Larry Hanson. Period. He was lot twelve.

"Lawrence Hanson, age eighteen years, nine months. Five ten, one hundred fifty-eight pounds. This lad has won more blue ribbons in his four years in 4-H/FFA than any other student.
xxxx"He's a natural ranch worker with a real way with animals. But he's also strong. Look at the muscles in that back and chest and those thick, hard legs. And that sculpted bellyl Who wants to take this dream slave home?"
I did and startled the crowd with an opening bid of two thousand dollars ... and ended up paying thirty-two hundred for him. Dad might faint when he found out I paid out over fourteen thousand dollars for four new slaves for my ranching operation, but it was my money involved ultimately, and I felt it was worth it.

Besides, I also ended up buying a half-dozen non 4-H'ers for just over a thousand for the bunch, so that brought the average price down to a more reasonable if still high fifteen hundred a man. And I was excited at my buys.

As I payed and my boys were signed over to me, Tim Rasmussen gasped,

"I can't believe you paid that much for us! I never dreamed we'd bring that much!"
His brother nodded ruefully,
"I hope you plan to work the hell out of us over the next few years to get it out of our hides."

"What's the deal?" Chance asked. "Why the hell would you pay five grand for a skinny blond brat like me?"

I shrugged,
"I'm gambling that you're going to develop into a hell of a valuable man. We'll see."
Larry was beaming at me with excited gratitude,
"I've been praying with all my might since you stopped by and checked me out. I wanted you to buy me so bad! Thanks. I won't let you be disappointed."
And he turned to the others,
"And guys, he's going to take off our balls ... I think we all know that almost automatically no matter who bought us ... but he's going to let us keep our cocks!

"No way, manl"

Terry Rasmussen sounded shocked.
"They always take off the cock too when you go to a ranch. That's what I heard."

"I'm not going to do that to any of you ... you four...."

I let the culls worry as I continued to talk to my choice purchases,
"And we'll make the geldings as easy as we can, too."
Chance frowned.
"At what you paid for us, we ain't got an easy cutting coming to us. You can't tell me you don't want to snip off these big low-hangers of mine while I'm feeling every bit of it."
And to my surprise, the twins enthusiastically chimed in assuring that they wanted to maximize my pleasure and entertainment at their expense as a sort of pay-back for having bought them at such inflated prices. My but I liked this whole little teenaged rat pack that I now owned-- or at least would the day they graduated from high school. That was still a few months off, but I would be looking forward to it intensely.

A bit later, having made the rounds to talk to others who had just bought boys for their ranches -- even a few women who had bought non 4-H'ers at bargain prices for hareems or houseboys or whatever, I made my way out to my car and found Chance behind me. He'd obviously waited and followed me.

"How about a ride home?"

"Sure, where do you live?"

"I was talking about your home."

He flashed me a cocky, hot little smile.
"I saw the look on your face when you checked out my shorts. At what you paid for me, I think you're entitled to enjoy me right now instead of just in a few months. I'll continue in school and graduate, but I'll spend however much time with you as you want and you can treat me as a slave starting now. You can even do the gelding as soon as you want ... even before I graduate."
I smiled happily at the game pup.
"Get in the car, Chance. We're going home."
A couple hours later I was marveling at the superb organ jutting up from the bronze-gold pubic brush that rioted about my new boy's groin. His rod was unusually thick and was ten inches long from base to tip -- I measured it ... after all, I now owned it.

And he loved having it sucked. And he turned out to be an accomplished cock-sucker himself. And he wasn't at all uncooperative when I positioned him and drove my own big tool all the way up inside his ass-hole and made a good faith effort to rip him open as I slammed and plunged into him time after time until his clutching, contracting gut and ass-muscles milked me to my heated orgasm. Then I sucked that incredible rod of his until he fired off a huge dose of thick, milky cream into my nursing mouth with a deep groan of pure pleasure.

Awakening in the dawn with the slim, hard, deliciously warm body of the boy cuddled close against me was intoxicating. My need for him was instantly fanned to a heated lust and when I slipped an exploring hand into the wiry-haired crotch nestled close by my hip I found him to be fully aroused with morning wood. He moaned softly as my hand closed about his rod and I felt his moist lips on my throat and ear and just about went nuts.

Later as he lay panting in my arms, the rich taste of his cum in my mouth, his beautiful, graceful legs parted with the slight soreness of having just had my seed injected up his ass-canal, he sighed softly into my ear.

"I think you better castrate me pretty quick, boss. I think a steady dose of sex with you might kill me quick. You're so good. You set off feelings inside me I never knew I had."
"Mmmm."
I licked his throat, enjoying the taste of his smooth, bronzed skin,
"Forget that. I don't think we'll be messing with that rather workable sex system humming between your legs ... at least not for a while."
I drove Chance back to his real home with the agreement he'd start living with me at my new ranch site on the weekends until graduation. It was just a trace too far for easy commuting during the school week. He offered to drop out if I wanted him full time right now and that was very tempting. But I turned him down -- I wanted him to graduate. Later in life, that might be important to him.

When I got back, my dad looked me up and did cock an eyebrow at the cost of my new slaves.

"The boys must be pretty spectacular. I'll look forward to seeing them! In the meantime, Cliff Higley brought over a new hand for his ranch -- a big Canadian lumberjack type.
xxxx"He bought him from a Canadian slave dealer and paid a pretty premium price for him too, but the stud looks worth it. Really prime piece of meat.
xxxx"Cliff asked if you'd do the honors between the Cannuck's thighs for him. He says you do the best cutting around. He left fifty dollars for you as fee. You could get a pretty good business going on the side just prepping other peoples' slaves."
Then he laughed.
"I just assumed you'd do it! Want me to send him back?"

"No! I'll do it!" I nodded eagerly. "Where is he?"

"Secured in your little holding cell next to the cutting room."

I was pretty proud of the gleaming, sterile operating room I'd set up when I took over all of the gelding of our slave acquisitions. I had never lost a boy to shock or bleeding or encountered serious post-operation infections. Higley wasn't the first to pay me to do slave prepping for him. I decided to get right on doing the Cannuck. It sounded like a fun start for the day.

A few minutes later I unlocked the door to the holding cell and a very handsome man with dark, curly hair, a silky goatee on his chin and circling his mouth, and skin tanned a glowing nutty brown arose nervously from the bench. His hazel eyes, beneath thick, black brows and long lashes, locked onto me.

He was bare-footed and bare-chested, wearing just Levis. His upper body sported a light, sexy dusting of dark fur across his upper chest and spilling from the little pool of the navel in his flat belly down into the tops of his pants. Strength seemed to ooze from his every pore.

"You're Chuck, Mr. Higley's newest slave?"

"Yes, sir."

The studly young Canadian had a deep, ballsy voice full of respect. I'd guess him to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. He was a superb specimen of manhood. Whatever Higley paid for him, he was going to get his money's worth.

I wondered briefly if Higley would sell the stallion to me, but I knew better -- no more than I'd sell Chance to Higley. I wondered how this beefy boy had escaped nutting till now, but then dismissed the thought, knowing there was no sense wondering -- theirs not to question why, their's but to do and die ... that sort of mentality.

"Well, Chuck," I told him, "We have a little work to do with you today. Why don't you go ahead and get rid of those pants and we'll just get it over with."
Trembling fingers undid his top button, lowered the zipper and peeled the denim off a set of darkly furred, thick, heavily muscled thighs, perfect big knees and bulging calves, all as deeply tanned as the magnificent torso. He was wearing white cotton briefs and did not wait to be told to get rid of those. Down they came and I leaned close to study the muscle-boy's crotch.

He was really well hung ... and cut ... unusual for a slave -- no one bothered with such things as circumcision now except for boys that come from especially good stock ... mostly Jews, but some others too. Someone must have thought he was worth something.

And well he was -- his cock was well larger than average, thick, veined and equipped with a widely flaring crown. His balls were two hen-egg sized orbs dangling low in the bottom of an ample scrotal sac. His crotch was a riot of dark, curly hair cushioning the ripe man organs.

Yes, he was going to be fun ... especially if I entertained the notion that he was really an elite boy who was kidnaped and forced into slave service ... yeah, that would explain why he was cut and why a twenty-two year old slave would still have his nuts. That or he was a recent college grad who couldn't make it in the tough job market. Either way, as I said, he'd be fun.

I gently led the tense Cannuck out into the operating room and asked him to stretch out onto the metal man-shaped frame in the center of the room. I had a hand resting on his broad shoulder, liking the throbbing warmth radiating from his silky skin ... that seemed to reassure him ... a little.

He very cooperatively lay down and matched his corded arms and legs to the frame. I strapped one wrist securely down and he pressed the other wrist a little closer to the restraint on that side to make it easier as I secured it. Then I locked the thick leather cuffs on his strong ankles. He tested his restraints and nodded.

"Looks like you get me tied down pretty good, sir. I shouldn't be able to accidently interfere with what you're gonna do."
And he glanced down at his hairy crotch and swallowed hard.
"I suppose it's gonna hurt pretty bad, aint it?"

"I'm afraid so," I nodded. "Mr. Higley expressly dislikes use of anesthesia. He wants you guys to suffer excruciating pain as a reminder that you belong to him and that he can do anything he wants to you."

Check shuddered and nodded.
"Well, he's the boss. I'll try to handle it as well as I can, but I hope you won't think me too much of a coward if I scream."
"Chuck...."
I put an admiring hand on one of his thighs and was startled at the steely hardness in the muscles,
"I've never cut a man without anesthesia who didn't scream and cry like a baby. Don't sweat it. In fact, it's easier to just give in to it and vent it out. I have to be truthful, Chuck, it is going to hurt something awful."
I activated the controls and with a soft hum his legs were bent slightly at the knees, then splayed as widely apart as possible, then the thighs turned outward to utterly expose his crotch. Then the frame curved his back and legs so as to thrust his pelvis outward at the top of the curve.

Then his head moved downward until he tilted on an angle not quite two thirds upside down. In this position, his genitals were postured for maximum easy accessibility at a comfortable working level for me. I was pretty proud of the perfection of this gelding frame that I had designed myself. Nearly seven dozen young men had been strapped into it so far to lose their manhood.

First, I shaved Chuck's crotch, using an electric clipper to take off the thick curls of black pubic hair, then lathering him and following up with a sharp straight razor until he was baby smooth. The way the frame left his entire lower abdomen exposed I was able to shave right into the ass-crack and I cleaned it of every little hair. Then I swabbed the entire area with a strong disinfectant.

Chuck watched the process as I prepped him and as I was carefully bathing his cock with the disinfectant it began to harden.

"That goes too, doesn't it?"
I nodded.
"Yes. Higley wants you to be totally neutered, so no penis I'm afraid. Just a stump to piss through. Would you like to get off one last time?"
His dark eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.
"Yeah, that'd be great. I hate to admit it, but being strapped down like this and knowing what's coming is actually pretty erotic."
I laughed, even as I began to play with his hardening tool.
"Lots of guys have said that."

"You ever had a guy die on you?"

"Never. And you aren't going to be the first, Chuck, trust me."

"I do trust you, man. I can tell you know what you're doing and are being careful. I guess if it has to be done, I'd sure rather have you do it to me. Uhhh. That sure feels great!"

I was expertly manipulating the hard, swollen crown of his now turgid organ and flicking the slit lips with a fingernail. It drove him nuts with need and I alternated this teasing with strokes up and down the length of his big eight incher and squeezing his balls.

I slipped a probing finger up into his ass-hole, then a second, then a third and began to fuck in and out of his anus with the digits spreading the opening as wide as I could force it. At the same time I stroked the shaft and batted his balls with the other hand and brought my mouth down to just lick the slit lips of his piss tube with the tip of my tongue. With a guttural cry, the buff body flexing, Chuck reached orgasm and splattered his cum all over his own chest and face.

I cleaned him up gently as he lay there gasping, drained and pleased. Then I disinfected his crotch again and turned on the bright overhead arc light that illuminated the middle of his body with a brilliant beam. I pulled the flexible arm of the laser scalpel into position and took the cutter, about the shape of a dentist drill, from its holder and flicked it on. There was a vibrant, soft hum in the heavily sound-proofed room and Chuck steeled himself as he waited.

I reached down and took his balls in my hand, remembered to slip the leather biting bit between his teeth so he wouldn't accidently chew his tongue or lips, and pulled the scrotum far out from his body. The skin was stretched taut and I held the balls themselves in the bottom of the sac.

I brought the cutter to just above the base of Chuck's scrotum on top and pressed the firing button. A tiny red line shot out from the tip of the cutter, glowing ruby red even in the bright light. It knifed into the skin, instantly drilling a tiny hole. I slowly drew the laser beam down the front of the muscle-hunk's sac and, as I did, it slit the scrotum open.

A slight stench of burning flesh filled the chamber and just the slightest trace of smoke curled from between Chuck's splayed thighs -- the cut was being cauterized as it proceeded so there was no blood. If I'd cut cross-wise, there might have been some, even with the cauterizing, but I knew enough to cut down and not across.

Every muscle in Chuck's fine body seemed acid-etched just beneath the taut-drawn skin, his hands were clenched into fists, his face was a grimace as his teeth clamped down hard on the leather piece in his mouth. I took my time making the cut. I really enjoyed gelding men I had found. It gave a wonderful, heady sense of power unlike almost anything else. And it made me horny as hell! I'd need a man tonight! One of the slaves probably. I wished Chance was still here.

Finally, Chuck's scrotum lay open and I pulled out one of his balls and examined the coiled mass of tubes with interest, then cut through the connectors and turned around and dropped it into the little glass jar on the table where I had my instruments.

I heard and felt Chuck's gasp as the realization of what had happened punched through his pain-addled brain. A moment later I had fished out his other testicle and was playing with it, tugging on it to taunt him and hurt him more. He was writhing on the frame and sobbing in pain.

I was so hard between my legs as I slowly carved off the bulk of the muscle-boy's empty scrotum that it hurt me. I usually cut these guys naked and wished I had stripped for this one. Chuck was so incredibly virile that emasculating him was a real turn-on. He had handled his gelding with remarkable endurance and courage!

His great body was bathed in sweat and wracked with trembling spasms of agony as I drew the sides of the little skin flaps I had left of his sac together and began to carefully sew them to cover the wound. I was really good at this and most guys did not show an ugly scar where their balls had been -- just a slight curving mound over the cock-root with a thin, sutured line down the center, about two inches long.

I disinfected the finished wound and then inserted a thin steel rod, about the size of a pencil, into the lips of Chuck's cock and slowly forced it all the way up his piss tube the length of his tool. This was the really dangerous part of the operation ... the part where others often lost their slave. But I was always careful, never assuming anything, never thinking I was getting good enough to take shortcuts, get sloppy.

I wrapped a tight elastic band around Chuck's cock, close to the root -- the kind used by surgeons to cut off all circulation before amputation. Then I pulled the rubber tighter and tighter, till Chuck's hard cock turned purple, the skin nearly bursting from the internal pressure, the elastic cord digging into the hard flesh like the noose on a hanged man's neck.

As I began cutting through Chuck's cock about an inch and a half from it's base, just above the strangulating rubber, his every muscle rippled and flexed wildly and he bucked against his restraints. Despite the hot laser cooking flesh, vaporizing blood, there was still a spray of blood as the internal pressure broke through the cautery.

I just kept right on cutting steadily, used to such -- both the muscle boy's screaming struggles and the spray. Losing your penis this way is an excruciatingly dramatic and painful event. Chuck's blood and screams sprayed everywhere, filling the room with the delicious iron aroma of blood and the even more delicious full body shake of gut-wrenching screams.

I kept cutting around the organ deep, to the steel rod, and moved all around the organ. The rod kept the vital piss tube from being sealed shut, a potentially deadly event that was easy to correct but another operation, and no operation, even a simple one, is trivial.

I slid the severed three-quarters of Chuck's penis up and off the still hot iron rod. It was difficult, as always, because the rod had gotten hot enough to nearly weld the urethra to the tube. When I had it slid off, I dropped it too into the glass jar, to join Chuck's goose-egg testes.

To make sure the cautery was sufficient, I ran the laser around several times as my subject writhed less and less as the nerves were burned out of existence. I let the cautery cool before releasing the rubber -- no sense in taking chances of the wound opening, especially with all the blood that normally flows through the penis -- that could be fatal.

During this time, the brawny Cannuk's pain lessened enough for him to breathe more normally, for him to untense his body some. I couldn't stand it any longer. I unfastened my belt, undid my pants and pulled them down, ditto for my boxers, standing there with my cock bouncing back and forth like a cat's bat-ball.

I sidled up next to the neutered muscle-boy, threw my left leg up and over his belly, pulled myself up onto his hard abdominals as he raised his head and looked straight at my bouncing boner. Tears came to his eyes as he thought about how he would never enjoy his best friend again.

I sat on Chuck's lightly furred abs, feeling the meaty abs roil under my glutes like an anaconda in a tight leather sack. It was delicious. So much power ... me ... over a muscle-man as big and beautiful as this one -- one that I had unmanned with my own hands ... had just unmanned him.

Took his best little buddy, the only thing in life that really gave him pleasure -- took that away from him. Permanently. And he hadn't even resisted. Just lay down there and let me strap him down and do it. No matter how many times I do it, it's the headiest thing you can imagine.

I slowly stroked my cock, watching his broad, furry chest heave and fall, his pec swells rise and spread, then fall, like waves on a near quiet lake -- his nipples brown little whitecaps. I clenched my glutes as I wriggled around on those hard-rock abs, pumping my cock harder and harder, conscious of how my balls were flopping up and down, grinning at Chuck as he stared at them, his eyes full of tears, his nose red from sniffling them back.

I pumped harder and harder, bouncing my balls harder and harder, half punching them against his belly, gasping, more and more losing myself in the ecstasy of the moment, my passion, my building orgasm. Suddenly the tension, the rush, the spurting -- long, ropy strings, all the way to his chin, across those massive, lightly furred pec swells, one across his left nipple -- the one over his heart.

I was gasping, panting. I forced my thumb under his leather gag and pried it out of his mouth, over his chin, so it hung loosely round his neck. Then I melted, sagging forward, throwing my arms round his neck, shoving my nipple into his mouth. He opened his mouth and sucked on it, like a baby, a lapping lover.

I sucked hard then pushed myself up and off him, sliding my feet to the floor carefully, taking my pointer finger and scraping my cum off my belly where I had smeared it, scraping it off his belly and chest and throat with my other pointer finger.

I sniffed at it then held my cum up to the new gelding's nose. He sniffed then opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. I wiped off one then the other finger on his tongue. He sucked on them like he was sucking cock. He grinned up at me. Then his brow crinkled, his eyes squinted, and he fought back tears as he cried silently.

I checked the cautery, then started releasing the rubber tie-offs. It's a tricky thing and sometimes I have to cut them off. This time I was able to loosen them by clawing one out a little at a time till it suddenly gave way and I could jerk it off.

I held my hand on Chuck's throbbing mini-pecker -- the hardest erection he would ever have now -- in a week or so, it won't even get hard no matter how hard he tries to make it -- not without hormones, which, I know, Mr. Higley wasn't about to do. I was checking for and weakness, anywhere where the pulse seemed especially strong, the scar too thin. Still, I couldn't help but get another thrill through my whole body, making me shiver as it flitted up and down my spine.

As I was holding, I felt a warm ooze pulse against my palm -- he had cum -- the last of his spermy boy-cream -- anything from now on would be much more clear, spermless Couper's fluid, not semen. I wiped it all up, sniffed at it, then sidled back up to his face and let him smell it and lick it off my palm. No chance of him recycling it into more boy-cream, I sniggered to myself.

I sprayed the cautery with disinfectant again and applied an ointment that was supposed to keep the scar from hardening too much -- if it did, it would be a constant source of irritation and pain. I'm pretty sure Mr. Higley would prefer a painful scar, but my father didn't like it and I was still much under his influence.

I summoned a couple slaves and had them unstrap him and help him to his feet and shoulder him back to a recovery bed in the house to await Mr. Higley's return. I've found it best to get the gelding onto his feet as quickly as possible -- it gets the blood flowing and hastens healing.

I felt a little sorry for Chuck, knowing that Higely loved multiple branding so as soon as Chuck recovered from his gelding, he would go through new, fierce agony as large brands were etched slowly onto his buttocks, thighs, chest and back by his sadistic owner. All of the slaves on that ranch were horribly scarred men who were then worked brutally and died young.

But that was no concern of mine. That was till I shuddered with the realization that Higley had been a major bidder against me for all four of my prizes. I wouldn't have cared if he'd gotten the non 4-H'ers, but the other four ... that really did bother me.

I was cleaning up the operations room when a short, immensely male blond bull appeared, hesitant, at the door. The newcomer was ruggedly handsome, his face framed by medium length silky hair. He filled out his clothes with obviously super-toned hard muscle. His face and thick, defined arms were burned a deep brown from obvious work in the sun. No more than a twenty year old, I guessed, but what a fine buff stallion.

"You're Tom Barrow?" he asked.
His dark blue eyes scanning my body with seeming approval. His voice was young but ballsy deep and sexy. I acknowledged that I was.
"What can I do for you?"

"My name is Steve Ludlow. I've been working in construction the last couple of years but got laid off last week. I applied here to become a slave to avoid being sent to the termination center. Your dad just interviewed me and sent me over here. He said to give you a message."

"And that is?"

I was getting very hard now. Very. This blond fox was a cock teaser in the first degree. I could actually smell the slightly sweaty, fresh musky aroma of him across the space between us. A slight grin melted the ruggedness in the strong young face.
"He said to tell you I'm a present to you for your new ranch. He said, Happy Birthday."
I eyed him hungrily,
"Then, Steve, your timing is great. I'm feeling horny as hell right now. Let's go check you out. I need to get off bad."
He grinned and reached out a hand to shake mine eagerly.
"You got it. I'm horny as shit myself, man. Or am I supposed to call you Master now? Anyway, choose my mouth or my ass for your cum. Or both."

"Oh, I think definitely both."

I grinned back and ran an affectionate hand over the blond demi-God's neck and shoulder and marveled at the perfection of his muscles even as I led him towards my room. God bless good old dad, I thought happily.

He was a living god. When I had him naked within minutes, I couldn't take my eyes off the hard, beautiful curves of muscle on that the smooth, sun-blackened body. The creamy white band about his waist contrasted with the deep tan of the rest of him -- and was sexy. Top it off, he was wonderfully hung between the sculpted thighs.

I let him suck me until I was close and then I fucked the daylights out of young Steve's ass. After my own lust was sated, I teased him unmercifully by drawing him to very brink of orgasm and then letting it subside. Over and over I used my mouth, only to draw back as I sensed the nearing explosion.

He was almost in tears he needed to finish so badly. Throughout the little torment by pleasure session I admired that spectacular body. I explored every inch looking for the slightest softness. Apart from his big balls, I found none. Every muscle was hard as steel and beautifully defined, full and ripe. He was about as perfect a human machine as nature had ever created. I was very proud to own such a man.

I finally took mercy and let him erupt into a throbbing, spasm-wracked climax. His body curved in a great arch from the bed as he desperately thrust his hips against my mouth as the first burst of his cream jetted forth. I stroked and loved his hard body at length as he basked in the sweet, exhausted afterglow.

He sighed when his breath finally evened out,

"Thanks, I really needed that! I gotta say, this slave business so far is better than I'd expected. I know what you're gonna be doing to me, but it was great of you to let me share your body and to get me off so well before ... before ... well, you know."

"I take it you have difficulty saying the word castration?" I teased with a solemn face.

He swallowed and shrugged,
"Yeah. I guess so."

"Well, we call it 'gelding'. You castrate a man. You geld an animal. Slaves are no longer humans. That's why we geld them."

He swallowed again, hard, only now realizing what he had signed on for -- maybe termination was a better option, after all. I'm sure he was asking himself that. I let him stew a minute or more as I looked at him with the most grave face I could hold. And only when I felt a crinkle of a grin began to break my face did I admit,
"I don't think I'm going to geld you, Steve.
I reached out and stroked that wonderful, granite belly of his,
"You're just a bit too perfect. I hate marring that. It'd be nice to have you in bed on a frequent basis."
His eyes grew wide in disbelief and he leaned up on his elbows to stare into my face to see if I was cruelly teasing him.
"But I thought all of your slaves on this ranch got ... cut."

"Almost all of them are kids fresh out of school. Eighteen, nineteen year olds. They can't control their libido and we don't want that poor judgment interfering with their concentration on work.
xxxx"Even then, we geld them with a lot of care to preserve the integrity of their cock structure. We then dose them with just enough male hormone to keep their good masculine structure and build up bulk and muscle on them for work.
xxxx"But if a kid, as he gets older, proves he's able to handle it, we can increase his dosage and he can still have sexual pleasure erection and orgasm and all -- just a seedless ejaculation of course."

"I had no idea that was possible, sir. I thought that if you got your balls snipped off that was just flat it. No more sex period."

I nodded.
"Most guys think that, but a number of the more mature slaves get off all the time in their free time ... alone or with each other. We require them to try to keep that from the drone kids.
xxxx"Once in a while when we get a really good, more mature slave who hasn't been gelded, like you, we go ahead and give him a chance to prove his judgment, dedication and trustworthiness.
xxxx"We can always cut the guy later on if we guessed wrong."
Steve drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it, nodding, his eyes filled with relief and, yeah, adoration as he gazed at me. I realized I probably had just created the best, most loyal slave a man could ever want.
"I won't let you down, I promise," he said. "And, although you don't know me well enough yet to be sure, my word is always good."
I nodded.
"I believe that, Steve. There's a lot of strength in you that I admire, and honesty. You do your work well and enthusiastically and you'll never be abused around here. You won't even really think of yourself as a slave. In fact, I think we can become pretty close friends."
I held out a hand and liked the raw power in his enthusiastic grip as he took it in his own hand. Then a slight wave of sadness flickered in my face as I realized what was pending in the morning. I suddenly felt like sharing it with Steve as he lay there naked beside me.
"Tomorrow morning we see what happens to a slave who is the opposite of how I think you're going to be.
xxxx"This kid is a nineteen year old who just won't settle down. He's got a real attitude and is always slacking off and causing trouble. We've tried everything.
xxxx"A guy here gets lots of chances, warnings at least a few times before we even whip him.
xxxx"Whippings haven't gotten through to him. Yesterday he actually beat up another slave, a smaller boy, for really no good reason. My dad's had enough."

"So what happens now?"

"Tomorrow morning at dawn I'm going to kill him."

Steve was silent for a while, then said,
"Well, I guess that makes sense. He's of no real use to anyone if he can't even be a good slave. How do you go about killing guys around here when the need arises?"

"We've always just shot them before. But I've rigged up a device to electrocute this kid that I'm going to try out. Would you like to watch it done?"

Steve looked excited.
"You'd really let me watch it? I've never seen a guy killed before. It sounds pretty interesting. I'd love to see you snuff him:"
He leaned up on an elbow and started playing with the tender insides of my thighs with his fingertips, softly stroking and caressing. It sent a chill of pleasure up my spine.
"You ever killed a guy before?"

"Just once. My dad really hates doing it. It's very rare. When I was younger, on the two or three occasions it was needed, he'd always march the dude out to where the grave had been dug, alone.
xxxx"We'd all wait to hear the shot and after a bit he'd come back alone, usually with tears in his eyes.
xxxx"The last time was when I was just eighteen, a year younger than the kid I have to do tomorrow. I asked if I could help him with it, to learn how to do it, and he was real pleased and proud of me for that."

"What was it like?"

"Grisly ... but actually pretty cool. I almost hate to admit it, but I enjoyed doing it. I wouldn't want to do it to any guy who hadn't brought it on himself, but it was a real power trip."

"I bet it made your cock hard as a rock. You're getting hard right now just talking about it."

His hand closed gently about my organ and stroked up and down sending waves of electric thrill echoing throughout my body.
"Tell me about this guy you ... terminated."

"Dad had slaves dig his grave out at the edge of the forest back of the far pasture. Dad and I marched the guy out there at dawn with his hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged and his eyes blindfolded.
xxxx"He was naked. We made him kneel at the end of the grave and dad took out his pistol, chambered a round and handed it to me. I put the barrel just behind the guy's right ear.
xxxx"I gotta admit it, my hand was trembling a little. But I managed to squeeze the trigger. The boy's head was suddenly a bloody mess and he was thrown forward into the grave like a Raggedy-Andy doll. It was incredible -- the rush I got off of the killing!
xxxx"Dad told me to fire a few more rounds into him to be sure he was dead. He was lying face up and I pointed the gun at his chest and started firing until the clip was empty. I loved watching the bullets drill into the muscles of his chest and gut."

"Cool!"

Steve gulped, eyes wide in imaginative rapture,
"I'll be looking forward to tomorrow morning. Think we could shoot some bullets into the dude anyway after you electrocute him?"

"Sure," I agreed.

I was immensely pleased to have a buddy to share the termination with.

Just before dawn, one of the older slaves came to where Steve and I were having a light breakfast to tell us that the grave had been dug and the diggers had left the termination site. We then went to the holding cell at the gelding center to retrieve the condemned slave.

He was a big, strapping young steer with fine, bulging muscles throughout his body. He had dark curly hair, a light dusting of dark silk across the roof of his chest and decorating his legs and a thick man beard of wild curls flaring out from his groin.

Naturally, he had been gelded and Steve examined his scar with interest. I did good work and the wound had healed very well with only very slight scarring -- just a thick red line over the bulge of his cock-root with small suture marks along both sides.

"I kinda like the way he's set up like this...."
Steve studied the boy's crotch with interest.
"It's neat how you can stroke in one clean movement from the head of his cock all the way down to his ass-hole. It seems to somehow draw his anus in to make it a part of his sex system."

"It sure does," I agreed. "I like fucking a guy with no balls. You get such nice, easy access to the hole. You also get his entire penis to work on if he's one of those we've let have a sex life."

"Yeah, I see that. The whole thing is exposed by a gelding. The balls otherwise sort of divide the exposed shaft from the thick, buried root. Yeah, that's neat."

If Billy objected to our discussion or Steve's familiarity with his crotch, he couldn't voice it -- he had already been gagged and blindfolded and his wrists bound tightly behind his strong, straight back. Even so, he could have resisted, but didn't in any way as we led him out and walked him through the rising early dawn down through the meadow to where the grave awaited.

He cooperatively dropped to his knees at the edge of the grave as ordered. There was a tremor in his shoulders and jaw but that was the only outward demonstration of the terror he must feel. He was well aware that he was to be killed this morning.

The light played on his back and you could see the faint scars of the massive welts I had imposed all down the length of the back and over the buttocks when I had whipped him a couple of weeks before in an attempt to get his attention. I wished it had worked.

The metal rings were still in his tits and cock-head and I clipped these and slipped them free from him to reuse in another slave. Then I brought out the small, black chemical super battery -- one of the new ones being used in cars, about the size and weight of a pack of cigarettes -- it carried all the voltage of the old big affairs.

I had rigged a thin strap to it and now placed it against Billy's chest just below his left pec, right over his heart. I made sure the feeder nodes that I had rigged were pressed to either side of the boy's big nipple. Then I strapped it in place securely. Steve watched with interest.

"How's it work exactly?"
I happily explained.
"In theory the juice, when I trigger it, will flow straight down into his chest like a shot. The attraction from the other node will cause it to quickly curve back up to complete an arc.
xxxx"Hopefully it will stop his heart cold and kill him in just a short while, but it will pretty definitely freeze his diaphragm so he can't breathe and he'll suffocate if his heart doesn't stop.
xxxx"Or maybe the chest muscles will contract so severely it'll crush his heart or lungs. We'll see. In any case, I'm pretty sure it'll kill him."
Steve nodded eagerly,
"Sounds like it!"
Then he moved back to watch from a safe distance -- in case Billy thrashed as I juiced him. I pulled the remote activator from my pocket and stood back just a short ways from Billy. Then I pressed the red button down, firing the battery.

There was immediately a low crackle and you could actually see the thick burst of gleaming bluish-white current shoot into the nipple like a tongue of flame. Every muscle in the boy's body contracted in violent, involuntary spasm. His hands behind his back curled into claws and he vibrated all over as the electricity continued to grip him and shake him with awesome violence. Smoke promptly curled from his pec and I could smell the stench of burning skin.

I let the current flow into him for a full minute before I shut it off. He was limp and still once the power released him from its steely grip and toppled over onto his side at the very edge of the grave. We checked him for any sign of life and found none.

"That was totally awesome," Steve gasped. "It did exactly what you said it would to him."
I pulled out the pistol, chambered a round, and handed it to Steve. He studied the body, then he brought the muzzle to the base of the boy's spine, just above the buttocks and fired. A bloody round hole appeared instantly and the still body jerked hard with the impact.

Steve giggled like a girl and covered his mouth. Then he pushed the dead boy over onto his back, having to kick the legs straight first, then wedge his foot under the side and flip him over. The boy's fat cock flopped then rolled over slowly, the underside turning up.

Steve put the muzzle to the dead cock and slowly rolled it back and forth like he was trying to get the boy to get one last erection. Then after a couple minutes, he put the muzzle on the flare where the crown merges into the shaft right under the piss-hole, and pressed down, like he was holding a squirmy snake to the ground.

He slowly squeezed the trigger and BLAM! the head disappeared in a spray of bright red blood. Steve giggled again and stood over the boy and pulled his cock out and pissed on the slow-oozing cock -- what was left of it.

Then he had fun as he slowly emptied the magazine into the dead boy. He shot bullets into the thick muscles of the thighs. Shattered a kneecap. Gut shot him several times. Centered the barrel against the boy's unburned right nipple and blew it away as the bullet ripped into the chest.

When he was done, we were both so hotly aroused and horny that we could hardly wait to get back to bed after tumbling the body into the grave and letting the diggers know to come fill it in.

Back in my room I did something I very seldom do. I let Steve mount me and fuck off deep in my gut, after which I did the same to him. He was careful, but very effective, and I enjoyed feeling him inside me immensely. Over all, a very nice start to a day.

A comment my dad had made echoed in my mind that night as I lay with Steve sleeping peacefully in my arms. I knew I was really very good at "prepping" slaves and now knew I was talented at terminating them as well. The thought of a new business opportunity was intriguing. The next morning, after Steve and I had sated our morning wood, I discussed it with him and he was clearly excited. He urged me to seriously consider it.

I called around to the other ranches and a few of the larger local employers -- lumber mills, mines and light manufacturing plants that worked primarily with slave labor. I knew that most of them carried out executions with a great deal more frequency than we did.

I was startled at the enthusiastic reaction to my proposal to contract for slave prepping at two hundred fifty dollars a man and to take over their executions, including body disposal for three hundred fifty dollars each. I checked with dad to make sure he had no objections. He looked startled but said that what I did on my new ranch was my business and it sounded like pretty easy money if I had the stomach for it. I sensed he was actually pretty proud of my strength in that regard and ingenuity in establishing what might prove a really lucrative side business.

Steve and I promptly starting working up the physical plant for "Lazy T Slave Treatment Services". We discovered an old barn on the property that was isolated enough to give privacy from the rest of my ranch headquarters but with a good access road to the main highway through the area. It could easily be converted into the necessary holding cells, operating rooms and recovery areas.

We laid out a sizeable execution chamber that would take up the entire far end of the barn. It would give room for setting up any number of execution processes in case we got bored with electrocutions and shootings. Dad let me borrow a large crew of slave cowboys to begin the construction work at once -- it was still a few weeks before I'd take possession of the ten boys I had bought at auction.

I intended to be in business within two weeks and had already signed contracts with ten ranches, two mines, three factories, three farms and the huge lumber mill/logging operation at the far end of the valley. Initial indications were that we'd get at least fifty new slaves per week to process and between four and six per week to terminate.

I was stunned to realize I'd clear well over a half million dollars a year on this venture at that rate, probably closer to three-quarters of a million! With really almost no overhead. There was a huge empty pasture right next to the barn for mass graves and we'd require the slave owners to deliver their property to us and pick the prepped slaves back up. Hell, at that rate, I'd have to consider getting out of the ranching business and going into slave work full time.

For the moment, however, I decided to see if it did work out as well as it seemed it might. That meant I did need to concentrate on the cattle end of the business, at least for a while. Then we could decide whether to expand the slave operation.

I decided to train Steve in gelding and let him head up our new business. He was thrilled and excited.

"Shit!"
He shook his head in amazement,
"I thought having to sell myself into slavery was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Boy was I wrong! Here I have the best friend and lover a man could want for a master who's letting me remain physically as if I weren't a slave at all and giving me a great job with lots of responsibility and exciting fun. I can't tell you how much I'm grateful to you, Tom. I won't let you down. I'll run the best operation for you possible."

"That's just what I expect."

I smiled at his beaming face,
"Cause you aren't a slave anymore. Dad gave you to me and I can do what I want with you. I could kill you right now if I chose. Or free you. And that's what I'm doing. I don't want a slave lover or business manager. I love you, Steve.
xxxx"There's something so special about you and it's not just the sex, great as that is, we are so alike it's scary. I hate the thought of losing you, but if you chose, you could go. You'd have two weeks to find a job or have to sell yourself again.
xxxx"I'm offering you a job here at a small salary plus ten percent of the business income. That oughta come to nearly eighty thousand by itself and I'll give you twenty grand more as a salary. What do you think?"
He looked at me with amazement,
"I think ... you're fucking nuts! You own me. You don't have to do any of this and you'd have my utter loyalty and hardest work no matter what. But I also think that I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person.
xxxx"And I'm proud enough as a man to prize freedom, though I guess not more than life. If you're serious, you've got a deal. And I'd stay here with you as a freeman as long as you'd let me without paying me a dime."
And suddenly there were tears in those strong, masculine eyes and he was in my arms in a deep, emotional embrace. I explained that he would need a small staff to back him up and suggested Chance and Larry Hanson, assuming they had the guts for the work.
"Would they be slaves still and, if so, prepped?"
I frowned.
"I have mixed feelings. They both seem pretty mature kids for being so young. Both have great school records and incredible attitudes. I'd prefer not to geld or brand or even ring them ... even if they stay slaves. Not unless they forced me to."

"You're thinking of freeing them?"

I shrugged.
"The thought occurs to me. Both are so far above the type of dude you usually find in slavery. I'll let you meet them and get your advice in that regard, okay?"
I should have realized Chance would sell himself easily. He was so outgoing and strong-willed -- and physically so beautiful. Steve fell for him at once that next week-end. We bedded him together and he was more than able to fully satisfy both our lusts. It was a toot having two such perfect young men in trio sex.

The following week-end, Chance brought Larry Hanson out to us, both of them extremely excited at the possibility of working with Steve in our slave processing plant. Neither displayed the least squeamishness about what was involved. In fact, their cocks got steely hard just talking about it.

To test it out, though, I told them I'd have them process the six non 4-H'ers I'd bought for a song when I took possession of them in another couple months. Then I called around and found a ranch that was about to snuff three cowboys for serious transgressions. My offer to do the work for free was eagerly accepted and shortly the condemned steers were delivered to us.

All three were big, strapping, good-looking young guys, one about nineteen and the others maybe twenty-one or two, a blond and two dark-haired men. We got them naked right away and I was delighted to discover that both blondie and the younger of the two older slaves had not been gelded for some reason.

The other had lost both balls and cock to the knife -- a pretty crude job that had scarred him pretty good. Thus I was able to see how well both Chance and Larry handled geldings -- on a couple snuffees before they got their hands on my property -- cheap as they were, I still didn't want them ruined just for practice.

Chance was a natural. He clearly enjoyed every moment as he slowly followed my instructions and carved off the male organs of the dark-haired stud. No anesthesia was used, of course -- no sense wasting money on a man you were going to terminate.

The man, strapped securely down on the operating frame, screamed and writhed as he was de-sexed -- his penis removed after he had been gelded. I made Chance use a heated knife rather than the laser cutter so there would be more blood and more sensation of cutting as he plied the small knife between the slave's hairy thighs.

Afterwards we took the moaning slave to where three graves had hastily been dug and I watched as Chance rigged the battery to the heaving chest of the sobbing, terrified slave. Without the slightest hesitation he juiced the guy, insisting on giving him a second long dose of current -- just to be sure.

Then it was Larry's turn. The blond boy was smaller, younger and very pretty-faced and I wondered if Larry would falter. His hand was trembling and he went slowly and somewhat awkwardly, but he performed the gelding on the screaming boy and then amputated his big cock. I had Larry execute the newly emasculated teenager with the pistol, with the kid unblindfolded and ungagged so Larry would have to face his pleading eyes and begging words.

I was proud of him. He stood there, eyeball to eyeball with the kneeling slave and calmly gut shot him to create mind-numbing agony. Only after the writhing youth had suffered for several minutes did Larry finally lean down, press the pistol to the boy's left pec and fire the fatal shot into the heart.

As he handed me the gun, he asked anxiously,

"Did I do okay?"
I nodded and smiled,
"You did just great, Larry. I'm proud of you. I think we'll keep you on around here."

"That's good," he laughed, sounding relieved, "'cause you own me, or will when I graduate in a couple months. If you weren't going to keep me, I don't think I'd like ending up in a dog dish."

I glanced at Steve and our eyes met. He smiled and nodded. So then I explained to both Chance and Larry that they were going to be freed, put on a salary plus a five percent commission to work as assistants to Steve. Both looked absolutely floored and Larry actually cried -- so deep was his emotion and relief.

Chance was close to tears but kept them back. I suspected he was the toughest of all of us in reality. He was going to be very good at our business venture.

By the time the boys graduated that Spring, our new business had been functioning very well for nearly two months. They had spent as much time as they could out at the ranch helping Steve and me and we all became very proficient in doing what was needed.

I was glad to have them there full time as it freed me to get back to organizing my cattle operation. By then I had procured a couple of dozen slave hands, many of them classmates of Chance and Larry who panicked and sold themselves even before graduating -- the market, even for slaves, was a buyer's market, not a seller's -- many boys who wanted to sell themselves couldn't get anyone to take them, even at the legal minimum of twenty-five dollars a head.

I held all of those back from prepping until Chance and Larry were at work in order to give them the pleasure of using the knife on some of their former school associates and teammates. They seemed to especially relish that. Larry had become most adroit at piercing tits and cock-heads for the steel rings and Chance clearly enjoyed performing geldings, so they made a good team. Both enjoyed placing the small "Lazy T" brand high up on the inside of each new slave's muscular right thigh and alternated doing that.
.


Steve busied himself with the scheduling and administration side of the business and proved a good businessman. At my request, he did supervise each execution and I tried to be there whenever possible as extra backup to protect the boys in case a panicky slave got loose and attacked them.

After a while they added hanging and burning to electrocution and shooting as modes of execution available. The owner could select the mode if he wished but, if not, it was our choice. Chance delighted in burning, Steve was fascinated with shooting, Larry liked hanging, and I still enjoyed the sight of massive voltage coursing through a flexing, naked, writhing body. We rotated just to be fair to each other.

And beautiful Larry proved as good in bed as I had thought when I first saw him at the 4H/FFA auction. Having his mouth on my cock was just as great as I had suspected. Not to mention having my man-pole buried to the hilt in that tight young ass-hole of his. We all loved each other and there was no jealousy -- we traded off with each other freely for partners and any given night any one of the other three would share my bed while across the room the other duo occupied the other double bed. I learned quickly why the Romans truly loved multiple-party orgies!

EPILOGUE

The slave prepping/execution business was a booming success. Within the year we expanded into actual procurement of slaves whom we then prepped and offered for sale. That proved popular and we usually have a back-log of orders.

When the Colorado termination center, which generally had been accepting slaves for disposal, cut back operations sharply, we became the prime disposal operation for a ten county area. Slaves set for termination would be taken to regional holding points and trucked to us in lots each week.

It was not unusual for us to carry out mass terminations ten to fifteen men on the same day. Chance became general director of the execution side of the house while Larry operated the prepping activity.

Within three years the business was operating in a gleaming, specially constructed new complex on the ranch and employed a staff of fifty, including maintenance workers, clerks and security personnel. I had long since ended the ranching business and dad retired on the help I gave him.

Many of his hands went to work in our complex -- some as freemen, though most of the youngest, with the least marketability, had to be terminated themselves. Almost all of the unneeded hands on my ranch went to termination. Steve, Chance, Larry and I are all very wealthy and could retire if we wanted, but we just plain enjoy the business too much for that.

Oh...you are probably curious as to how the twin Rasmussen boys turned out. As it happens, they are with me right now. Both have matured into magnificent, buff young men, now twenty-two, and are the only hands from my ranch whom I transferred into our slave complex.

They act as deputies to Chance in his execution plant. Tim right now is sucking my cock and he is so damn good at that. Terry has my balls in his mouth. Shortly I'll have to figure out which one I'll fuck ... not that it matters. They are utterly identical. While I fuck him, I'll have him mount into his brother's hot ass.

As I lie here, I can see the thick, steel rings bobbing in the heads of both twin's huge, erect cocks and I'm playing with the ring in Tim's (or is it Terry's?) right nipple with one hand and caressing the little puckered scar of the Lazy T brand high in the other brother's inside thigh.

I said both cocks were erect. The twins had proven so loyal and reliable that I had long since restored their hormonal levels to full sex drive status. And Chance did such excellent suture work on their gelding scars that there is hardly much of a scar at all where their balls used to hang.

I guess I should tell you that their geldings were carried out quite a bit differently. I took them up on their suggestion that for the price I paid for them, they should undergo a more painful and entertaining emasculation,

We simply took the twins to the barn and looped a strand of razor-sharp piano wire around Tim's balls and looped the other end around Terry's scrotum a few feet away. Chance and Larry then began to whip the twins' naked bellies and pecs to force them to back away from each other. They withstood the pain of the whipping for several minutes before Tim finally got smart and ended it by making a deal with Terry.

"Bro ... let's get it done, man!" he called out. "On the count of three, jerk backwards as hard as you can and I'll do the same."

"You got it," Terry answered through gritted teeth as Chance's lash whistled across his naked chest again.

"One Two...THREE!"

Both bodies jerked backwards powerfully. The piano wire snapped taut and there were soft plopping noises as two sets of big balls dropped to the ground.

As a surprise for us, Chance and Larry saved the twins' scrotal sacs, tanned them into velvet-soft leather pouches and installed thin golden chains for draw strings. They preserved the balls themselves and put one each of Tim's and Terry's nuts in each pouch.

Each pouch was branded with the Lazy T mark. One night at dinner, they presented the pouches to Steve and me as good luck charms and mementos of the twins' geldings. We wear these around our necks almost all the time now.

I have no idea whether I'm wearing Tim's or Terry's scrotum around my neck. I have decided, however, that I will fuck Tim tonight while he fucks Terry. But, damn! Which one is which? Oh well, I'll just have to guess.