A Journey Into Submission
Voluntary Enslavement

The Facility

By: Dawson Spear
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION  Dr. Tom Taylor

Several years ago I inherited a city block in downtown Atlanta. Before you think I own the heart of the downtown you should know that the property consisted of an office building in terrible condition and a warehouse which encompassed the office building on three sides.  None of the properties were insurable.  My uncle was the family outcast because all had sacrificed for his education as a medical doctor and then he announced he was gay, something that one did not do in 1900.  I went to medical school at the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta, did my residency, and went out into the world.  I came out to my family and became the outcast of my generation.

I opened a small general practice in one of the poor sections of Atlanta, managed to make a living with my practice and I taught in one of the medical schools.  I decided (after trying to save the life of a young woman who had been butchered by a non-medical abortionist) that I would open a woman's clinic.  In looking for suitable space, a real estate agent approached me and told me that a client of theirs wished to donate space if I would fix it up.  That was my uncle; with his help I was very successful and then he died, leaving me the buildings and a boat load of money.

A young man came into my general practice one day, badly beaten and obviously having lived on the streets.  I tended to him, and kept him in the area I called the infirmary for several days.  When he came to, he begged me to keep him and not turn him back onto the streets.  He told me he was gay; that his family had not only disowned him but that a brother and his father had beaten him and dumped him out on the streets.  There he had been pimped into a male whore, starved, fucked, and kept strung out on drugs.  I agreed to keep John and let him finish his education as a registered nurse; he was in his last semester and had to withdraw due to his injuries and having been made into a whore.  Of course I tested him for any type of STD; luckily for him he was clean and I made sure he stayed that way.  It was that assurance that he stayed clean that really drove me to expand my practice beyond simply helping the homeless; that and the fact that persons who two years ago were living in the upper middle class subdivisions and driving a nice car were now living on the streets.

John worked out well except for the problem that he liked to fuck and would sacrifice everything for it.  One weekend he left his post and risked a patient due to his going out onto the streets looking for cock.  I had tears in my eyes as I told him he was fired; he cried and wailed.  I explained that I loved him but could not trust him.  His words to me I will never forget.

"Please, Dr. Tom; I will do anything; please do not turn me lose onto the streets."  After both of us calmed down I told him that we would sleep on the issue and discuss it in the morning.  Let me be clear I have never had any sexual relations with John, so it was not from that perspective that I was helping him.

Morning came and I tried to approach the problem in a methodical way:  there was a problem: he got the urge; he got horny; he wanted sex; he explained that he was what was called versatile meaning that he liked to fuck and to be fucked; to suck and be sucked; to top and to bottom.  He said that his problem could best be summed up as having the absolute need to cum; to ejaculate.  Reasoning with him was like trying to discuss not taking another drink, with an alcoholic.  Finally I said, "John accepting what you say is true, then your problem is only going to be solved by your removing the urge or need to ejaculate."

"I think that you are right.  The question then becomes how do you do that?"

"The only way I know is to castrate you.  People used to do that to men as late as 150 years ago during slavery when they wanted to calm a buck down.  Farmers still do it to calm cattle, hogs, and other farm animals.  So I guess what I am saying is this, John; if you want to stay here, you are going to have to give up your nuts.  The choice is yours; either you conform your behavior to meet the standards that are acceptable to this facility, or you no longer can live and work here."

"If I agree how do I then exist?  If I agree to be your slave and give you the right to castrate me will you accept me and keep me as a slave?"

How the hell did I get myself into this jam?  I suppose that the challenge that has been presented to me is one of long range planning.  What is it that I want to create here?  There is some part of the populace who — both straight and gay, both female and gay — need to live in a controlled environment.  While the details or our sexual fantasies vary, certainly one of the constant themes throughout theses fantasies is that of top and bottom.  It also appears that these fantasies are carried out to a far lesser degree in the structure of our lives outside of our sexual orientation.  So what is it that I want to create?

I want a place that caters to the needs of the gay segment of our society; a place where the bottoms of our segment can be trained; their medical needs be addressed by persons of like kind; that there is understanding and support rather than tolerance and acceptance; a place free of disease created because people are tested as they enter the facility, and those within the facility who live their lives in a manner that does not expose themselves or those around them.

When completed, I was pleased but the problem of John continued.

I sat down with John and discussed the matter with him.  After several days he came back to me and said, 'I can't control my behavior as I am; will you please accept me as your slave; I will work for you in whatever capacity that you want; I simply am asking in return that you do to me what needs to be done; that you make the decisions in my life that need to be made; you let me live here with you.  If you want to use me in whatever manner you choose, then use me; what I want in return is my education, the security, safety, and control necessary to live my life to meet the standards of this facility."

I approached an attorney I know and had him draft a charter and release form.  I then hired an off-duty nurse and, with the use of a local anesthetic, I shaved him from his ass hole to his belly button and then drenched him with a disinfectant.  Making sure he had no pain, I took his sack and along the seam or crease I opened him up by simply running a scalpel along the line for a distance of about 3 inches.  I them manipulated his left testicle out of the sack; the testicle is contained in another sack that is really a white membrane.  Opening this second container I gently squeezed and there half of John's essence was exposed; a cord is attached and it was cut with a pair of surgical scissors and put in a tray; the process was then repeated and both tubes tied off.  I inserted a pair of silicone implants and sewed him up.  It took the better part of two weeks for the wound site to heal during which time I placed John on restricted activity.  John's behavior changed.  No one knew but I put John's testicles into a jar of preservative and kept it in my desk; I also started John on hormone shots and he progressed well.

In addition to John, I hired three people on a part-time basis and as a part of their package I allowed them to live at the facility; I had an architect friend of mine design an apartment for a couple, and one for a single person.  The three persons in addition to John were Steve, Bob and Richard; all gay and willing to live within the rules; Bob and Richard are a couple, neither exclusively a top or bottom; Steve was a top.  They are all paramedics, or otherwise trained as teachers or medical assistants. 

With that background, the saga continues.

To be continued...

Posted: 05/18/12