The promise

I begged her not to go, on my knees, pleading, but it was all arranged. Then, on the day they were leaving, she made a compromise. She said she would continue to be my keyholder via the internet on one of those websites where you can broadcast and be instructed. She said that once every three months she would allow me a locked orgasm while she, and the rest of the viewers, watched and laughed at me. She told me I must make it clear in my profile that I was a virgin and that she was my keyholder. But, most importantly, I had to agree to two more things that were non-negotiable. She told me I must remain a virgin for the next ten years and, at the end of those ten years, I must agree to let her castrate me, remove my balls while her friends watched. She said this must also go on my profile, with a countdown so everyone knew when they would come off.

I was desperate. I couldn’t envisage life in any other way than the way I had lived for the last fifteen years. I thought ten years was a long time, and she would probably have forgotten all about me by then. So I said, “Yes, I agree to let you take my balls.” After all, they were of little use.

This went as planned for about five years. Then it started to become less regular over the next few years, and, as I had predicted, by year nine there was no contact at all. I continued with the internet shows. I had built up quite a fan base of regular viewers. I would let them instruct me on how to cum in my cage. Sometimes they would ask me to slap my balls until I came. Sometimes I’d use a vibrator on the cage, but most of the time they wanted anal stimulation, watching my little caged cock spurt hands-free.

Last week, the clock counted down to zero while I was online. My viewers knew the story; it was on my profile. There were several hundred messages asking when it would happen. I had to reply that we had lost touch and, although I had kept the promise, was still locked, and was still a virgin, I hadn’t heard from her for nearly a year.

That evening, I had just come out of the shower after having my daily cage-cleaning session when there was a knock at the door. I was expecting a delivery, so I wasn’t surprised. I opened the door, however, and there she was. I nearly fell over. I let her in with five of her friends. She looked amazing; she hadn’t changed at all.

They took off their coats to reveal they were all wearing nurses’ uniforms, the type strippers sometimes wear. Her friend opened her bag and set out, on the table, all the instruments needed to perform a surgical castration. One of her friends was a vet experienced in removing balls. I was told to lie down. They would restrain me to make sure I didn’t hurt myself during the procedure. I was in shock. By the time I came to my senses, I was naked, tied over the kitchen table.

She produced the key for my cage. She joked with her friends that it had gone rusty and hoped it still worked. It did. My penis was small and shrivelled, but the freedom caused it to start twitching. I was actually getting hard. I couldn’t believe it. Her friends laughed and discussed between themselves how it would be my last erection, if it could still get hard.

I felt my balls being swabbed with alcohol. My penis was now hard enough to be pointing upwards, away from my balls. The vet took the scalpel and made the first incision. She was firm and confident with her hands. I felt very little pain, just a cold sting as the blade did its work. One of the ladies was videoing with her phone. I could hear Fiona’s voice. She was gasping that she could see my left ball peeping out from the first incision. I heard her whispering. Then one of the ladies took my penis between her finger and thumb and slowly started to stroke it, making sure I didn’t get overstimulated too soon.

“That’s it,” the vet said. “Both balls are now free from the sack and ready to be removed.”

One of the ladies took a picture and showed me. I could see my two balls, still attached but hanging there naked. The lady stroking my penis started to speed up.

“He’ll need to ejaculate before we tie them off. It will be his first unlocked orgasm for twenty-five years.”

I could feel the cord being placed around my balls, one at a time. It was a strange feeling. My cockhead was starting to get slippery with precum. The lady stroking my cock was now just using one finger to gently stimulate the area under my cockhead. It felt amazing to be free and hard. My cock was throbbing.

I felt the first dribble of cum, the one that reaches the tip just before the first eruption. My cock started jerking violently now, without any further stimulation. The first spurt of cum shot up, hitting me on the chest. I let out a massive groan of satisfaction. Before the groan had finished, I felt two big tugs on my balls as the cords were pulled tight, cutting the next spurt of cum short.

“Cut his left ball first,” Fiona said.

I didn’t feel it, but one of the ladies held my left ball in the air with a big, satisfied grin on her face. Fiona said she wanted to cut the right cord herself. I heard her giggle, then scream with delight as she held up my detached right ball by the cord. She dangled it in my face and ordered me to kiss it goodbye. I leant forward and kissed the dangling ball, all five ladies clapping and laughing out loud. My cock was still jerking violently, trying to spurt more cum, but it was now totally dry.

Fiona put my ball in a jar with the other while I was stitched up, cleaned off, and untied. Then they left, each one saying goodbye. As Fiona left, she turned at the door.

“See you in another five years,” she laughed. “I want your virgin cock to go with these virgin balls.”

She held the jar up and shook it. I watched my balls jiggle as she left.