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Kinktober 2018

Castration

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Gelding the Stallion

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Duslor

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When the uniquely coloured grullo stallion woke, he knew that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, in fact, and it wasn't just the fact that he could not move. It was nothing like his awakening into an intelligent being, having been an equine beforehand that was nothing more than a dumb beast of burden, but he was strapped to four posts all the same, almost as if he was in some kind of stocks. They were sometimes used to train feral equines, like himself, and also to assist in farrier work with those who had a little more weight in their hooves especially.

Duslor groaned and strained, his head still foggy as he rocked his weight from hoof to hoof, finding no weakness or give in the posts. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered... No, the last thing he remembered was eating a breakfast of oats in the stables where he lived before getting to work for the day. But it was night! He snorted, lifting his head high as his eyes rolled, the whites showing anxiously. That was so long ago! What on earth had happened since then?

But there were no answers forthcoming as he tried to throw his weight around, shoving the posts to no avail. The interior of a barn that he was unfamiliar with slowly came into view as he blinked and swung his head back and forth, tail unhappily clamped down as if demonstrating his displeasure in such a fashion would rectify the whole thing immediately. Yet Duslor was not a stallion to be quite so lucky by any means.

A light laugh drew his attention, chilling where it should have been cheerful - not that many feral horses were able to tell the difference between the two. As much as he craned his head back and forth, however, he couldn't quite work out where the strange creature who was so clearly in the old, decrepit barn with him was, ears flicking and nostrils flaring to sift through each and every strange scent he could find there. His captor and tormentor to be was not one to lock himself away though when there was gloating to be had.

"I see you're back in the world of the living."

Smirking, the anthro stallion stepped around in front of him, tail flicking more happily than Duslor's was. A long, pale tail draped down to his fetlocks, although they were encased in smart enough clothing to denote him as a horse master or at least someone working their way up the ranks of the stable world, aiming for a higher place at the stable - so to speak. A golden coat was tucked behind the polished, long coat with shiny buttons and his hooves were perfectly shined and painted with a generous coat of oil.

None of that, however, mattered to the bound stallion who squealed and tried to strike out, only succeeding in yanking the muscle in his shoulder to a painful degree.

"Who are you?" Duslor snapped, ears pinned and eyes wild. "Untie me right now!"

And yet the other horse remained silent, that wicked little smile stretching his lips as if he knew something that Duslor didn't. He didn't need to talk to one that he deemed beneath him and, bending over to draw out a small chest, he took items from it, lining them up one by one on a straw bale directly in Duslor's line of sight.

"What..." The stallion reared his head back, snorting anxiously. "What is that? What are you doing? What are you trying to do to me? I can work! I can pay off anything you think I owe!"

"Oh, little stallion," he chuckled, shaking his head slowly as his forelock flopped as if sadly, over his right eye. "You really don't know what any of this is, do you? Or are you playing dumb in the hope that you can get away scot-free?"

But Duslor did know and what he knew chilled him to his very bones. The stallion fought his bond with renewed vigour, grunting and snorting and stomping (the latter to no avail) as each and every implement of traditional equine castration was laid out before his eyes, the stranger seeming to take great pleasure in forcing him to look over the gleaming metal in excruciating detail.

"Let me go! I'll do anything you want!"

Yet the equine knew already that his pleas were falling on deaf ears, his body but a passive player in the theatre of his own life, on a stage that he could not quite reach to influence. Holding up the shining blade of a knife with one paw, the equine grinned manically, appearing two-faced in the fraction of a moment with his forelock hanging just so over one side of his muzzle.

"Do you not know how much stallion nuts of this age are worth these days?" He chuckled throatily. "You should have protected them while you had the chance... With the royals, these are a delicacy, what with everyone wanting to keep their males whole in case they are suited to breeding later on. And they fetch a fair penny too."

Raising an eyebrow, the strange horse folded his arms across his chest, the metal tools lined up before him on the bale of straw in terrifying, meticulous order.

"Such a pity it's just a one-time deal for you."

He did not bother with the anaesthesia that would normally be used to numb the area before gelding; the equine was not in a position to argue and, well, some said that the pain made their nuts taste all the sweeter. Who would want to deny a patron that, if they fetched a higher price too? Whether or not it was legal when a horse was of the more intelligent side, well, that was beside the point. The stallion wasn't about to let such an opportunity pass him by, regardless of what Duslor wanted or not.

"Hold still now..."

As if Duslor had any choice, although the stallion most certainly did everything he possibly could to not hold still, screaming and hurling himself about with flared nostrils that did nothing at all to fill his lungs with sorely needed breath, flanks heaving and dark with sweat. He had not hung about to see other horses being castrated when they had been done as youngsters before, although neither had he thought back then that their testicles were used for anything. Perhaps he'd been a bit more than merely naive back then but he couldn't help but groan instinctively as a warm paw landed on his nuts, the orbs hanging heavy and full as they were palpitated - yet not for long.

"You can get hornier than that, surely..."

And then that paw was stroking his sheath, begging his cock to appear even as Duslor strove and fought to keep it sucked in. He could not deny the needs of his body, cock dropping smoothly out even as he reared back, tightening the muscles in his stomach as much as he possibly could, even though there was nothing he could do. With his cock out, hard and slapping up against his own stomach, the anthro equine seemed satisfied that he was erotically prepared for the procedure and readied the knife to make the first incision.

There was no warning - just pain as the knife sliced into first the neck of one ball-sack and then the other, opening them up to the cool, illicit embrace of the cold barn air. He didn't cut deeper than that though as Duslor's eyes rolled, breath shuddering through him in a dark, stank ripple. Pain flourished, blossoming as it overcame all else, but Duslor didn't have a chance to let his mind come to grips with the horror of what was happening before something closed around the neck of his balls, just above where the cut had been made, so clinically that he may as well have just been a slice of cold, unfeeling meat to the anthro stallion.

The emasculator. He watched its progress move, in the hold of a pale paw, from the straw bale to his underbelly and then saw no more, foam lathering down his sides where his leather bonds rubbed and ground into his sweaty coat. Duslor screamed without the breath to do so, eyes wide and threatening as his tail clamped but there was nothing at all he could do as the emasculator clamped around the neck, bearing down and down and down to crush and sever the blood supply to his most precious jewels. Pain ripped through him as if he were not truly a part of it, a stallion watching, in horror, from afar, but it was all too very real and the effects of it would remain with him for the rest of his natural life.

"There you go, lad, ain't so bad, is it?"

Yet it was bad - very bad! Duslor reverted to simpler terms in the privacy of his own mind, jaw working furiously without any sound coming out bar a breathless, strained heave. Past the point of no return, his nuts were beyond repair as the ache rose up into his gut, curling through him as if his intestines himself were twisting and writhing into a new shape altogether. A paw patted his rump but there was not anything soothing at all about it, hide cold and dripping in sweat as that wicked paw slipped a ring over his cock just to keep him somewhat hard through the whole ordeal: a final torment and humiliation at its finest.

"And we'll just leave those there, just to make sure the job's been done real nice."

Duslor snorted and heaved but had not the words to object, his entire world overcome with the sheer need to work through his castration, lest he not survive the experience. Although would the experience even be worth surviving if he didn't have his balls at the end of it? His head swam, one thought wavering and refusing to come to the surface as the crushing pressure throbbed and throbbed, pounding and driving through him as his cock dangled half-hard, forced so by the ring.

Anthros could be evil bastards sometimes.

Through it bit and crushed, the edge of the sharpened knife taking care of the rest as the anthro stallion neatly cut through any skin and flesh that remained - perhaps the emasculator had been designed to cause pain more than do a clean job of it. Duslor didn't care but he felt the weight of his balls leaving him even with that cruel emasculator still on, only to be removed a moment later by the equine's paw.

"Not so bad, was it? And think of how much money these will fetch!"

Smirking, the anthro bounced Duslor's balls from paw to paw, evidently pleased with himself and his haul, although all the feral stallion could do was hang his head and heave, eyes half-lidded as he fought to work through the pain. He didn't even have the energy to fight or hold his tail down, muscles taut down his topline and tail held loosely, draped without the semblance of a fight.

A paw ran down his cock, even though most blood had drained from it, only kept out and soft by the grace of the ring, and he trembled, though did not make any effort to move away. What point would it have? He was bound and trapped... And he had nothing to fight for with his pride stolen from him in the dark of the night too.

"This, I will save until it'll fetch a higher price..."

No longer did Duslor have a say in his own future. The equine shuddered and gasped, closing his eyes against the world and the sight of his own balls - well, not his anymore - being tucked away in a leather pouch, evidently to be taken to whatever royal wanted to pay the price for such a cruel delicacy.

He only wondered for how long he would get to keep his cock too.