Chapter 7 I woke to the usual whipping, my world consisting again of tight darkness smelling of rubber. At first I thought I had been dreaming and that the ache in my crotch was from one of the usual punishments, but as the rubber cocoon was removed and the dildos pulled out I noticed that this pain was different and much, much worse. It became painfully clear that it had not been a dream as the stable boys forced me to walk over to the bathroom area. Every step was pure pain and all doubt vanished when on of the stable boys held up a mirror to show me my heavily bandaged crotch. I cried hopelessly but still the stable boys went through the same morning routine as always, if a little gentler than usual.

Once I had been fed, washed and outfitted in my usual pony gear I was gently led to an enclosure and left to stand there. The pain was bad, but standing absolutely still made it a little better so all day I stood perfectly still in a corner of the enclosure. In the afternoon Master came to see me. He looked very pleased, dragging a crying slave boy who had obviously been whipped very badly as practically his whole body was red from the beating. The young man, who was twenty-four at most, was naked except for his stilettos and the leash around his cock, which Master used to drag him by.

Master stood close to the fence and motioned me closer. Every so gingerly, causing myself unbelievable pain I came up to the fence. Seeing me like that made Master smile and seeing Master so obviously enjoying the sight of me, castrated as I was now, actually made things better. My tiny mind focused on my devotion to Master and since this pleased him, I should be pleased too. This was for Master's enjoyment and thus it couldn't be bad.

His enjoyment was so great that he threw the house slave up against the fence and took him brutally from behind. The fucking took a long time and as Master's orgasm approached his hands closed around the neck of the slave, choking him until he passed out and fell limply to the ground, Master's cum leaking out of his ass. Only slowly did he regain consciousness, coughing and retching as he came to, crying from the shock. When the slave was back on his feet Master turned and left, dragging the badly shocked slave behind him.

When evening came I was led back into the stable and prepared for the night same as always. Seemingly no routines had been changed just because Master had seen fit to castrate me. I still slept standing up, sealed in rubber and filled with punishment dildos.

The next morning, when I had been fed, washed and outfitted a doctor came to check on the wound and change the bandage. He gave me a few shots and let them take me to the enclosure again.

Again I stood as still as possible all day and like the day before Master came to see me in the afternoon. It pleased me to see that he liked what had been done to me and I began to accept that what he had done to me was for the best. Maybe not the best for me, but since I didn't matter that was of no consequence. If it pleased Master all was well. That day he had one of the shemales in tow and she looked truly terrified. Her naked body bore the marks of prolonged torture and the marks around her neck were unmistakable. This time he didn't settle for a brutal fuck, but beat her brutally before fucking her even more violently than he had fucked the slave from the day before and again he finished of by choking her until she lost consciousness. She was crying hopelessly, in near shock as he led her off.

My healing process lasted three weeks and the routine was the same every day. I was treated just like I had been before, except that now I didn't train and the doctor came to see me regularly. Every day Master came to see me and delight in my castration and for each passing day the poor slave accompanying him had to endure more and more brutal treatment. In the final week one slave wasn't enough and when he took his hands away from the throat of the slave he had been fucking and choking, the slave fell limply to the ground and lay there long enough that I began fearing that he had killed him.

Master didn't kill anyone, however, but after that all his house slave acquired a look of constant terror.

When my healing period was over and my bandages were finally removed I saw that not only did I have a smooth crotch, but my once proud and beautiful cock had shrunk down to the size of a small thumb. And no matter how much I willed it, no matter how much I thought of Master, I could even get it to twitch. It had been rendered not only harmless, but useless. Had it not been for the fact that it seemed to please Master, I would have been unbearably depressed. Now at least I had that thought to cheer me up; that I still pleased Master.

My new role in life turned out to be very ironic. I was still kept and fed like before, but my training was minimal and usually I as only ridden if one of the stable boys was being rewarded and granted the right to ride for fun. My form was still perfect of course; my many years of training not easily undone and I still enjoyed being subjected to breath play, which now became my primary source of enjoyment apart from pleasing Master. No my new role was that of gelding at race day. On race day I was brought along so that the racehorses could get a good fuck. Sometimes I would get fucked by one of Master's ponies at home, but usually they were milked just as I had been.

I now lived to provide relief for other ponies without ever being able to get relief myself. At home the stable boys and even the house slave came to ride me when they were being rewarded or Master thought I needed some exercise and usually they would play with my breath either with rope of using plastic bags. This had become one of Master's favorites and his liking for it spread throughout the household to all levels.

Over time it had the result of further dumbing me down to the point where I now have trouble recognizing other ponies. I do however recognize Tony, if only because he was the first pony after me and because he has joined me in the gelding pen, where we spend most of our time waiting as our minds become more and more damaged from the constant asphyxiation we are subjected to.

Epilogue Master looked at Mark and Tony standing in the gelding pen. He had many fond memories of punishing Mark and fucking him senseless. He had acquired many, many slaves since then and many were more beautiful or ran more perfectly, sucked or fucked more perfectly, but only very few were as devoted as he had been.

Master had a whole household full of slaves of all descriptions who had only four things in common: they all had a chastised member between their legs, none were ever allowed to cum except the ponies, none had any teeth and all were completely devoted to him, just as they had been conditioned. Still, few had reached the level of devotion Mark had shown from the very start and Master thought it had been a lucky strike that he had been the first.

But now Mark was becoming too damaged to continue even in his diminished capacity as gelding. All the breath play had damaged his brain to the point where he now had trouble moving his limbs properly and had it not been for the plugs he would be unable to hold his own waste. No, the time to put him down had come, but then Mark had lasted almost ten years and that was certainly a good run, far longer than most of Master's slaves.

Since Mark so obviously enjoyed breath play even in his present reduced state, Master decided that that was the way he would go. He went into the pen and led Mark over to the fence. Here he removed his blinkers, head harness, bit, collar and butt-plug and pushed him up against the fence. Then he began to fuck Mark in the ass for the first time in years. He could both hear and feel Mark's pleasure at being fucked and when he felt his own orgasm approaching, he closed his hands around Mark's throat and squeezed it tightly, feeling his almost orgasmic writhing beneath him; powerful jerks at first, then desperate thrashing and finally just weak spasms before stopping altogether.

THE END