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“The Pet Groomer” by first timer

Summary: Dominatrix wife employs a grooming service.

In the middle of the month, I knew immediately the sound of the beep beep horn from the pink van coming up the drive. It was Tosha coming for my monthly grooming.

My cock reared with my balls pulling up at the same time!

In the basement working out keeping myself in shape for Donna. I was eager to feel Tosha hands handling me again. She was an absolutely professional groomer and she liked her work. Unlike the service before that Donna had employed for my grooming. “Kathy’s Male Cleaning Services!” She was very rough always fastening my testicles to the table with a strap to hold me steady while she would business like clean and service me! Even Donna didn’t like her after one incident when she said. “Why don’t you let me castrate him next time? He really doesn’t need those big old things hanging off him like that. Plus everything would go a lot quicker any easier if he was castrated!”

I knew she was gone after that! Donna loved my big balls! She loved to showcase then to her friends. Plus her philosophy was. “What was the point of being a dominatrix if you couldn’t dominate a male with balls! That was the whole concept! Once you physically deballed a male he has an excuse doesn’t he? But if he still has his balls hanging between his legs. Well it’s an absolute surrender to the females superiority over him isn’t it”? The logic was flawless as was she. Donna had taken me by the balls years ago molding me into her husband slave and I was proud at being owned by her wearing her brand on both butt cheeks P.O.D. Property of Donna.

Her voice came from upstairs! “Get your sorry balls up here asshole! Tosha’s here!”

Being a Italian woman Donna wasn’t to be trifled with as I knew all too well. I sprinted up the stairs with my big hard cock wagging back and forth in front my balls bouncing in all directions like a dog eager for attention. In the living room running up to my mistress and Tosha breathing heavily my heart pounding.



“Yes mistress! Sorry mistress!”

“Get down on all fours and show mistress Tosha your balls from behind. I want to show her your whole scrotum!”

Doing as ordered I went to my elbow spreading my knees exposing my big dangling scrotum to both!

“Tosha I want his entire body waxed especially his groin area and scrotum. I’m having a little party tomorrow night and I want him looking good. If you know what I mean Tosh!”

“Exactly Donna! I know what you want. Leave it to me!”

Hearing my mistress Donna’s high heels click clack away, looking up at Tosha smiled down she motioned me to standing. I towered over her! My 230 pound muscled body was in stark contrast to the slim blond blue eyed 110 pound female. The top of her head even with my shoulders! If a space alien were to have glimpse this scene they would have concluded that I was the superior being and she the subservient. They would have been wrong of course. Not

knowing that the big dangling sack that hung between my thighs was the great equalizer between our sexes!

Tosha gripped my cock in her small hand lifting it reached under with her other gathering up my big loose scrotum examining it’s hair growth pleasantly saying. “Well now big boy! We’re gone a get you all cleaned up. Inside and out. Aren’t we”?

Feeling my cock swell. She squeezed it playfully giving it a little twist giggling! “Now you just behave your self or Tosha might have to give your big old balls a good spanking won’t she? Now won’t she? Yes she will she’ll just have to give your balls a big old spanking!”

God she was so young, pretty, and charming. An absolutely natural dominatrix who easily brought out the subservient nature of the male to the female! I wanted to please her! Eager to obey her smallest command hoping that someday she would wear my balls as some type of jewelry or just taking them for her own pleasure! My secret fantasy was to have her castrate me as my ultimate tribute to her and all females in general!

She pointed my cock in the direction of the kitchen where she had setup her work station slapping my ass hard! “Get in their big balls! Tosha’s got her work to do! She’s gotta make her big boy pretty!”

Amused watching his big silly floppy hanging scrotum swing back and forth into the kitchen she followed. He knew the procedure getting up onto her portable stainless steel grooming table. Got on all fours spreading his knees into the appropriate slots and waited. Under him the table curved into a oblong basin with drain, various hoses running underneath to the kitchen sink. At the back corners by his feet stood two upright rods with solution bags and tubes hanging from them!

Feeling Tosha’s hand stroke down over his scrotum then gently patting it saying! “Do we need to strap you Bill”? “No mistress!” “I didn’t think so big guy! Your such a good boy aren’t you? Well aren’t you!” “Yes mistress!”

“I like grooming you Bill. You’ve got such a nice big prominent sack on you! A lot bigger then most you know! Most of the ones I do are either little or skinny hanging things. You should be very proud at having such a big full manly sack on you. It’s so aesthetically pleasing for a woman to see a male with a big hanging pouch like yours you know! It makes us feel more womanly somehow seeing a big heavy scrotum hanging off her male! You know that”?

I was swelling with pride as she spoke. Then hearing a click of her attaching a anal nozzle and taking hold of one of my balls holding me steady shoved it in business like giving my ball a little squeeze said. “Good boy!” Next she attached something new around my scrotal neck. It was a fat heavy ring which slid down resting on top of my balls. She saw my expression and said. “Oh you’re going to like this! Its something new I’ve just got. In fact you’re the first one I’m trying it on. It’s called a testis oscillator it sends high and low frequencies through your testicles which keeps you stimulated and happy makes everything go quicker and easier. Half the time the instructions say for grooming males!”

Suddenly a pleasant moan escaped from deep inside my throat. She giggled clapping her hands together like an excited little girl saying. “OH WOW! It works! Wow! It really works!”

Her hands when to my balls feeling them seeing if she could feel the vibrations squealing with delight! “I can feel it Bill I can feel it! God this thing really works!”

She was so happy and I was happy for her to! My cock was stretched down under me swollen pulsating hard as I started grunting! A little surprise as her enema probe pushed out falling to the table. Looked under at my cock watching it discharge a steady huge long thick rope of cum into the basin listening to my now long low straining grunts she immediately switched off the testis oscillator!

Trembling weak drooling from my mouth and cock she started hosing off my body with a find spray of warm water saying! “Sorry big boy! Didn’t realize how quick the oscillator ring worked! God it could have killed a weaker man!”

Chapter 2 Potential gold mine

Tosha realized immediately the potential money making opportunities of the Testis oscillator and her final words to me that day were. “Bill would Donna consider selling you? You know I could make a small fortune selling these things! But I would need a male with really big balls like yours to give presentations! You’d be perfect for it!”

Donna did sell me to Tosha. The price never being mentioned but rumor had it at 20,000. This was something unheard of paying 20,000 for a male. Especially a male with oversized testicles which were considered at that time completely un-vogue by the ladies. But my new mistress. Mistress Tosha knew different. She knew that what was once vogue would be again with a little tweak here and their and she set about changing that with a presentation on the home shopping network!

*** The Show ***

So Tosha you’ve got a special type thingamajig for us girls to use on our males? So exactly what does it do”?

“Well Carol its called a testis oscillator, and if I may! I’d like to demonstrate it on my man for you and the home viewing audience if you don’t mind!”

Well sure Tosha! Bring him out! Lets have a look at him.

With that cue, I came out naked deliberately bouncing on my heels as we had practice making my big heavy balls do the same. The hostess Carol laughed in surprise looking into the camera saying. “Well now you don’t see testicles that big on a man anymore do you? He’s a real specimen isn’t he Tosha”?

“Yep Carol he’s double grade A for sure isn’t he”?

“More like double grade AA to me Tosha! He’s got some serious balls on him, girl!”

It was kind of a joke at first but I could sense a change in her attitude! Seeing little admiring glances in her eyes at my balls and at Tosha as she ordered me up onto the table into position on all fours I smiled waiting.

“Ok Carol what we do is fasten this adjustable doughnut around the top of his scrotum. Not to tight, just tight enough to let it slide down on the top his balls like this!

Carol reached under sliding the doughnut up and down demonstrating for the camera with a big smile! Then mouthing. “He’s a big boy!”

Tosha picked up the remote pressing it for a second. My cock jutted out under me bigger and harder then relaxed limp!

“Wow Tosha that’s impressive!”

“Carol the batteries are incorporated into the doughnut rechargeable for up to a 1000 hours. Plus there are 15 different oscillating frequencies or settings. You can prolong ejaculation forever or bring him to his knees squirting more sperm then you would ever think possible that he could produce!

“OK Carol stand back a little more! We wouldn’t want you getting splattered with his cum! That’s a nice outfit you’ve got on I wouldn’t want to ruin it!”

Doing as Tosha asked stepping away she watched wide-eyed. As did millions of other women at home! The phone lines were smoking with a director giving Carol the over the head sign! Way over the head sign! She nodded then watched as Tosha gave the testis oscillator full power!

Letting out a deep grunt his cock bolted out huge under him as his entire body jerked tense! His balls pulled up lifting the doughnut collar with them! Than dropped with a grunt he let out a jet of sperm with such force it splattered off the table in every direction! Grunting again he duplicated it and a third time until Tosha satisfied with her demonstration turned the testis oscillator off!

“Holy Smokes ladies! I’m getting one of these for my men! Plus finding a couple of new ones with testicles like Tosha’s!”

Chapter 3 Living in luxury

Well big balls were in vogue again just like Tosha knew would happen! She wrote a book. “Her Big Balled Male”. Which became a best seller. At book signings I would stand behind her with my balls draped over her shoulder with the lead weighted scrotal ring on them! ladies of all ages complementing her on how nice and big they were. But the most excited were the really young girls at seeing them! Some of their questions were to say the least extremely embarrassing to me. They wanted to feel and weigh them asking her how could they make their slave boyfriends have bigger balls like mind. Tosha would say. “Its all in the book girls!”

Talk shows were the worst! Inevitably I would be handle by the female host as she would described to the audience their weight texture and smoothness while asking Tosha questions as to why in the past males with big testicles were frowned upon? Responding Tosha would say! “Well in chapter 12 I describe the historical femdom awakenings as related to the male. In as such first and I must say and understandably so at the time. Of considering a male with big testicles a symbol and focal point of a natural female reaction to pass male domination! Relating testicle size to an inner psychological fear which today we realize was just the opposite! Males with big balls were in all reality the ones less threatening, being that they were so prominent and exposed to the female we all use their testicles to discipline them so it’s reasonable conjecture to conclude that the ones with the biggest balls are naturally the most submissive!”

At the end of this interview Tosha gave a demonstration of the Testis oscillator on me! Clearing the coffee table with me getting on top on all fours with the host Diane Sawyer watched intently then helping Tosha fasten the doughnut ring around my big hanging scrotum saying while giggling! “May I Tosha”? Indicating to the remote control. “Of course Diane he’s all yours!” Looking over at both women sitting back comfortably with their long legs crossed. I suddenly felt the doughnut come alive with my cock stretching down hard under me! “EWWWW!!! Diane let out as a big jet of cum shot out under me! OH god! Shut it off! Shut it off! OH God look at him! He’s cumming all over the place Tosha! Both were

laughing hysterical at my ball draining discharge onto the top of the coffee table. Both fumbling with the control making a show for the cameras in mock innocence trying to turn it off! Meanwhile I was grunting out load after load of sperm until drained then I started dry humping in front of millions of females viewers!

What little dignity I had was drained out of me that morning on Diane Sawyers coffee table! Reaching back between my thighs grabbing the doughnut trying to pull it off in humiliation and anger only hurting myself being that my balls were to big to slide through. Frantically fumbling in embarrassment fingering one ball pushing it through then the other it dropping to the table with a thud. I ran from the studio crying to a roar of laughter from everyone their!

Later backstage Tosha found me leaning against a wall weeping holding my balls! “I’m very disappointed in you Bill!” Pushing my hands away from my balls she attached a choker for the first time around my scrotums neck with a leash attached tugging me hard to follow. Outside to the limo she slapped my balls hard got in then yanked my tethered testicles in beside her! I screamed in pain and shock! This was the first time she ever deliberately abused my

balls like this!

“How dare you!! How fucking dare you!!! You sorry fucking big balled bitch!! How dare you embarrass me in front of millions of women like that!!! I should castrate you for doing that do you understand me? I should cut your fucking big sorry ass balls right off right now!”

“I’m sorry mistress! Please mistress Tosha it’ll never happen again mistress!”

With that, we rode in silence!

Chapter 4 Changes

Once a pampered pet I was now just part of Tosha’s stable of big balled males! Four in all including myself kept immaculately groomed with our big dangling scrotums always on display for what was now a cowgirl dude ranch of sorts!

Tosha was given a doctorate in Female societal evolutionism! She used the moniker to the hilt. Starting the “Big Danglers Ranch!” “A place where mothers and daughters could bond in the female experience!”

In reality it was nothing more then a male whore house under the pretense guise of educational experiences for young girl under they mothers guiding hands!

I was very popular amongst the mothers and daughters. They all knowing me from Tosha’s books and such! I was so tired of being handle by women and girls with their mothers invariably holding my cock up so their daughters could fondle my heavy hanging scrotum to their delightful squeals of amazement as to their weight and softness!

I wanted to be castrated! Preferably by a woman! But I would do it myself if I couldn’t persuade a woman! I wanted Tosha to castrate me! But I knew she wouldn’t because my balls still attached to me were worth money to her!

Pondering I read her book again! They it was! The answer in her own words in chapter 14. “Necessary Castration of Your Male!”

“Rarely will a male with big testicles need to be castrated. Being to the size and vulnerable nature at having said testicles! But one must never underestimate a male with large testicles and its tendencies towards a female sexually especially young girls. If an big balled male shows aggressive behavior towards a female he should be castrated at once!”

“Well tomorrow’s another day!”

My cock was hard very hard! Abnormally hard as I waited! This would be it! I hated myself for what I was about to do! But this was the only way I could think of to end my misery! I would rape a mother’s daughter in front of her and Tosha would castrate me like I always I wanted her to do!

It was a sunny Saturday morning mothers and daughters were coming down from the house after breakfast to inspect us as usual. Giggling and laughing with the young girls sprinting out in front excited! Tosha and their mothers pleasantly chatting from behind in the warm morning sun! Seeing Tosha’s eyes glanced at my big hardon curiously she sensed something. All the other males cocks reared up as the girls got closer a smell of primordial danger, a rutting bull in heat flashed in her mind instinctively she knew! As did the mothers!

Not only was I castrated that morning but also Tosha’s entire stable of big-balled males!

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“The Gelding Blade” by first timer

Summary: A story of future femdom harvesters.

Male sperm was at an all-time market high of $800 a pint as sweet, young, teenage Betsy watched her mother’s four big male bull cows from behind grunting into their milking tubes! Their big heavy dangling milk sacs jiggling and churning in rhythm to the pulsating vibration of the extractor collars around their scrotal necks, held in place with thick leather straps around their hips which held the milking tubes up tight against their big discharging male teats.

Finally, their grunts subsided signaling to Betsy they were finished for now. Until later in the afternoon when she would again hook them up for their final deposit of the day! Pushing herself off the fence rail she was leaning against, she stepped forward and started yanking the Velcro straps off their backs and from around their testicles saying, “OK guys, you know the routine! Clean your tubes, your udders and teats, then take your feeding liquids. I want to see a bigger volume out of all of you this afternoon! Don’t disappoint me, boys!”

It never failed to impress her how weak they were after their milking! They were all over 200 pounds of lean male muscle. But their legs would be shaking as they would slowly rise to standing. It was comical watching them spreading their legs to accommodate their big heavy hanging male milk sacs which dangled just above their knees. Her mom called them, “Male udders!” Which she found udderly comical. The lower pendulous girth was of incredible size! As big as two soccer balls with a hundred times the weight, which pulled down on their scrotums stretching the necks thin at the top. They were handicapped by them, making them easily managed by me or any other girl, or woman, and these ones wouldn’t know the gelding blade for a long time to come, as long as they kept producing milk.

*** The milk ***

Male milk was essential as a base ingredients in locking organic and genetic compounds together like a type of glue. Allowing them to interact and stay stable for years! The latest discovery was called. Helen! Helen restored youth, beauty, and strength to a female within a matter of days. A 50-year-old woman looked and felt 20 again. Only male sperm could achieve this. It was the key in the process, because it was genetically compatible with a female’s growth genes!

Five years ago it was discovered. Before that, I remember mom always gelding our males. Mom would cut their balls off and throw them into the pig pen for the pigs to eat, saying, “At least they’re good for something!” I watched her doing it and watched their cocks get big and hard when she brought the gelding blade across the top of their sacs, castrating them! Every time their male milk would squirt out at the exact time their testicles came off! And she’d say, “See Betsy! This why we’ve got to geld them. If we didn’t, they’d be squirting this filthy stuff all over the place! All the time!”

Like I said, that was five years ago! Now their filthy sperm is worth gold and mom wants as much as can be milked out of them! A whole industry started around developing males into producing large quantities of sperm. But it wasn’t until the XL350 implant was introduced that large volumes of male sperm milk was possible. The implant was surgically implanted into a male’s scrotum, containing mega- doses of genetically altered male hormones, with the result of his testicles growing to enormous proportion! Within days his testicles would grow bigger and bigger, with some dying from the rupturing of their sac! It would take months for their cock-teats to get bigger but slowly they would equal their hanging brothers in size!

Once they were done, they were nothing more than walking male cows. Cow-bulls with big hanging udders and one giant teat!

Chapter 2: Back at the house.

“Betsy! How are our boys doing?”

“Great mom! Remember the one with the bigger balls! Bigger then the rest? Well he’s putting out almost two full quarts a day now!”

Her mother laughed. “Well he’s earning his keep isn’t he!”

On the kitchen table there was a box marked, Betsy. Her big blue eyes grew bright! “Mom, mom! What’s this? What’s in this box? It’s got my name on it!”

“Well you better open it, if it’s got you’re name on it, then!”

Smiling, watching her young teenage daughter tearing open the box, then her mouth dropping open in surprise!

Inside was a black leather waist cinch with high-heel knee-high black leather boots and a long handled silver rod with a hooked end! She gaped at it, then looked back at her mother. Her mother laughed. “It’s to hook around the necks of their scrotums! To move them were you want them! You’re going to be taking my place this year at the county fair honey! You’re going to be the bull mistress this year! You’ve earned it!”

“Oh god, mom! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m going to win that blue ribbon for you! You just watch!”

“Well, Betsy, don’t get too confident with yourself. There’s some pretty stiff competition! Plus you’ll be hand milking him which is more of an art then a science, so you better start practicing on your best one, the one you’re going to enter into the competition. I’ll show you a few tricks in getting the best yield out of a cow-bull. With a little luck and a big bloated sac on him you might just win!”

Betsy knew exactly who she was going to enter. The one the others called Bill.

She never got familiar or personal with any of them, because it was beneath a female to recognize a male other than to direct or order him to do something. Being a smart girl, she knew she’d have to lower those standards and have a personal relationship with him, which would be repulsive to her. She hated the smell of those big teats and their big hanging scrotums, especially when they were grunting into their milking tubes. It was an especially offensive odor, she would have to do something to mask that offensive smell.

Around three o’clock, they were gathering by the milking barn as usual with stiff cocks, eager for their release. Their big male udders hanging heavy with the weight of built up sperm.

Betsy came from the house dressed in her new outfit! Her small bare breast stood firm with excited erect nipples. The leather waist cinch tight around her waist causing her girlish hips to flair out like a full grown woman’s hips. The knee-high spiked boots framed her slim but muscular thighs in turn framing her bare shaven pussy with hanging lips like her mother’s pussy!

Immediately, she could see their balls involuntarily try to pull up! As she got closer one started discharging sperm and inwardly she smiled, feeling an incredible amount of female power at knowing just the sight of her caused him to ejaculate! Watching as his legs started trembling, weak, with long ropes of milk shooting out his big teat, he went down on his knees, then on all fours with his male milk still draining out under him!

As the others watched Betsy went up behind him, hooking her silver cane rod around his sac, pulling the big loose dangling appendage back, forcing them up onto his back, then unhooking it swiftly and smacking one testicle with it! He went down with a loud grunt into his own mess!

Looking at the others, especially Bill, she said, “All right, the rest of you! Get in there and take your places, you’re all going to have to make up his amount today!” Secretly she smiled to herself, watching her big bull-cows move in with their big hanging male udders twisting and flopping back and forth between their legs. Once inside they took their spots, sliding the milking tubes over their teats, waiting for Betsy to fasten their straps.

She went up behind Bill and gently tapped his big hanging scrotum with her cane, causing the big heavy milk filled sac to swing obscenely! Grunting, he looked over his shoulder to see her smiling down at him. Then she knelt down beside him, placing her small hand under his hanging sac, lifting and weighing one ball at a time, saying, “I know your name. It’s Bill, isn’t it? You’re the best milker here. You always put out the most milk, you know! I like that, Bill. You’ve got the biggest heaviest male udder of all of them. Plus you’ve got the biggest teat too. That makes you special. You are one, big, prize-winning male cow! I’m going to enter you in this year’s county fair and you’re going to be wearing a big blue ribbon right around your big male udder! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chapter 3: Getting him into shape

Keeping him in the house now, Betsy and her mother triple his feeding proteins plus implanted eight times the recommended XL350’s into his scrotum, making his big male udder absolutely obscene. His balls were now as big as basketballs with his cock bigger and longer than Betsy’s leg. Constantly being hand milked by Betsy, or her mother, he was putting out over a gallon of sperm per-day!

One-day, during his milking he grabbed his chest, moaning in pain! Alarmed, Betsy called her mother! “Mom, mom! He’s having trouble breathing and his cock went soft when I was milking him! Look!”

He was on his side with his limp, trunk-like cock laying out in front of him with his big scrotum bag lying awkwardly behind on the other side between his legs. White looking and sweating, Betsy’s mother knew exactly what was happening! They were milking him to death!

“Betsy honey, we’ve got to ease up on him, we’re killing him! Especially the way you’ve been practicing on him lately, it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long. Now lift up his leg. I’ll pull his udder up over in front of him and we’ll just let him rest there! No more milking him until the competition. Let him regain his strength!”

She didn’t tell her daughter, but secretly she knew one more milking would probably kill him! “God, having a bull-cow putting out a gallon of milk a day was unheard of. If he lasted through the competition she would definitely win!”

As the days passed, he slowly recovered. Betsy’s mother had removed the extra XL350’s from his scrotum but it would take months before their effect would diminish. Plus it was illegal by competition rules to use more than two XL350’s on a cow’s udder. She was almost jealous of her daughter as she removed them.

He stood in front of Betsy with his legs wide apart. She moved her hands up and down the big smooth, hanging scrotum, weighing the two big balls inside, marveling at the softness and texture of the entire bag! She ordered him to hold his big hanging teat up out of the way. Swollen hard but so big with its heavy weight it could no longer support itself in an outward standing position, and she marveled at that too. “God what a specimen of a bull-cow!”

Chapter 4: The big day

It was hot for late September, unusually hot which made it great for the parade of the male cows into the big tent. Betsy walked behind her cow tapping his big udder with her cane, signaling him left or right, just as the others did with their male cows. Most of the other females were much older then her, but she could see envy in their eyes, watching her cow walk wide-legged with its pendulously heavy milk-laden udder swinging back and forth, hearing words like, “That’s not possible!” or, “Oh my god, she’s too young to be a bull mistress!”

Once inside the tent, they lined up their cows to have their udders weighed.

When Betsy’s turn came, she expertly hooked her rod around her cow’s scrotum neck, hoisting the big things up onto the scale with both hands. The judges and women standing around watching shrieked in disbelief as her big male’s udder tipped the scales at over 43 pounds! There had to have been something wrong with the mechanism! No male’s milk sac had ever weighed that much! One of the judges, a tall, slim, muscular blond, came from around the back of the scale table, placed a hand on the center of his chest pushing him back.

His big sac slid off the scale, swinging back between his legs, pulling him off balance with the weight. He leaned back and then forward, adjusting the weight under himself to the center of gravity. Betsy was pleased at how well he had handled himself in front of everyone. He wasn’t so stupid after all, she thought. Looking over to her mother, she smiled at her and her mother gave her a knowing smile back! She felt her a little nipples push out further and for the first time she felt dampness on her little pussy. After double checking the scale, the same woman motioned to Betsy to place his sac back onto the scale.

Betsy tapped his scrotum from behind signaling him to move forward, then, as before, she hoisted it up with the same result of 43 pounds!

After that, there was an hours break before the competition, where all were welcome to handle or examine the entries. The women were all over Betsy’s bull-cow especially the city women. Flash cameras flashed constantly as one woman after another took turns posing beside him! Pulling his big teat up out of the way while kneeling next to his big udder and smiling for the camera! Plus many questions were directed at her! “How did you get him so big? How much milk can you pump out of him? You’re so young!” On and on it went until Betsy’s mother stepped in saying, “That’s enough, ladies! My daughter has to concentrate on the competition so find yourselves a good seat and all your questions will be answered when she straps the blue ribbon around her male’s sac!”

Betsy was nervous, really nervous! She hadn’t expected this much commotion over something that she took for granted. Milking males of their sperm was an every day event for her so she never really thought about it much. But now, she realized she was something of a superstar! Being a bull mistress was evidently the envy of every female and she looked upon her mother with new eyes!

A loud buzzer sounded. Then a female voice.

“All Bull Mistresses! All Bull Mistresses with their cows, report to the milking tables!”

This was it, showtime! Her mother grabbed a bucket of warm soapy water and quickly started washing down her cow’s big hanging udder, motioning to her daughter to lift its fat heavy dangling teat out of the way. The milk-laden sac swung back and forth as she washed it, then, after quickly drying the bag, she stood up and took the big shaft from Betsy’s hand and did the same to it!

Betsy grabbed a spray can of cosmetic powder, applying it to his entire body, paying special attention to his teat and udder!

Finishing up, her mother handed Betsy her cane, kissed her on the forehead and said, “He’s all yours baby! Make me proud sweetheart!”

Betsy gave his udder a hard smack with the cane making him jump forward. It was too hard and it hurt him! The sudden move caused his heavy weighted scrotum to jerk, making him grunt in pain. Betsy realized what she did and told herself to calm down, she was too excited. She had to calm down saying, “Sorry Bill!” This was one of the few times he had heard a kind word from her. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled with a little tear in his eyes and silently nodded his head. He belonged to her, she was his mistress. The bond that had developed between both was all encompassing in his mind and he was determined to make her proud of him by putting out more milk than he had ever done before!

This time, she gently tapped his sac, moving him forward.

There was a lot of talking and laughter between the women and young girls in the audience as everyone waited. Some of the males were already up on the tables on all fours with their thighs wide apart and with their big udders hanging underneath. Some udders almost touched the table top, but all were impressive specimens!

Betsy directed her cow to her numbered table, tapping the underside of his sac. He slowly mounted the table. There was a sudden audible silence in the audience. The full weight of his udder rested on the table with one ball sliding off to the side and pulling the entire sac off with it, causing a gleeful roar of laughter from the women! Three of the judges came over and inspected the situation, the same blond judge who couldn’t believe the weight at the weighing table ordered someone to get the biggest knee blocks they had. After placing four four-inch blocks under each knee, a total of 16 inches, finally, his udder hung free with half an inch to spare!

“OK, ladies, place your milk pails under your cows! You’ll have fifteen minutes of milking time starting when you hear the buzzer! Good luck ladies!”


Betsy looked around at the other women. They were going at it right away, most were forcing their hands into their cow’s rectums to squeeze their prostates and then grabbing their teats with their other hand and jerking and pumping quickly! She heard the first grunt and splash of sperm next to her! Surprised she quickly grabbed Bill’s big teat, putting it into the stainless-steel pail, shoved her hand into his rectum, forearm deep, feeling for his prostate, when he suddenly grunted and discharged a huge long stream of milk into the bucket and then another until they were both in rhythm! The noise in the bucket subsided as his teat was submerged in his own milk but slowly its level was rising. His constant grunting affirmed to Betsy that he was still producing! After about 10 minutes most of the loud grunting around her had subsided to low weak moans! But Bill was still making deep heavy grunts as his milk started overflowing the pail!

Suddenly, Bills grunts turned to heavy painful moans! She could feel the tightness around her wrist in his rectum slacken. She immediately pulled her arm from his hole, hoping he wouldn’t die before the buzzer sounded! She was clearly the winner by a long shot, his sperm was running off the table from the over flowed bucket it was clear to everyone who had won the blue ribbon.

The blond judge was beside her now and realized that she had milked him close to death! She had seen it before and the only thing to do to save its life was to castrate him immediately! She held a gelding blade in her hand, showing it to Betsy, saying, “Should I? It is up to you!”

Betsy frantically looked over to her mother! The expression on her face told Betsy it was her decision.

story text

“Husbands – Wives – Castration” from Executive Imports

Summary: Stella Kisherman’s innovative approach to putting an end to her husband’s abusive ways starts a wonderful trend among the housewives of a small mid-western town.

Sam Kisherman had it made. No job, but a working wife who handled all the bills. He made good side money from his safe odds down bets on ball games and fights. A girlfriend on the side, and a good piece at home in his wife Stella.

The obvious drawbacks in this marriage that was so perfect for Sam, was the fact that he hardly ever bathed or shaved any more, drank a lot, slept all the time, and was very brutal with his wife whenever he felt like making love. With his girlfriend Denise, he was gentle and caring, but the way he treated his wife in bed was very close to rape. He never asked her if she was in the mood. Never petted her gently in the beginning, but simply took her vulgarly and brutally.

Poor Stella worked hard all day, and had accepted her role in life as the way things were going to be. She was very unhappy, but figured most woman had to be content with things being a little kinky like she did.

One Friday evening Sam had really gotten drunk. He grabbed Stella as she was fixing her hair in front of her vanity. He literally pulled her by her long reddish brown hair to the bed, ripped her bathrobe away, and tried to fall on her and make penetration. But the booze had stopped his erection, and he pulled her to her knees forcing her mouth on to his long soft snake-like penis. Unwashed, it smelled terrible, and she wanted to throw up, but he held her head in place, managed to erect and forced her to swallow his dirty seed. Then he fell asleep across the bed.

She cried for hours, but finally fell asleep. The next day was Saturday and she took off early in the afternoon as she did every Saturday, to shop and browse, but mostly to get away from Sam. He did not really care as he liked to visit Denise every Saturday afternoon to make love.

By mid afternoon Stella had run out of shops to visit and was walking down Miller Ave. In the heart of town. The sun was shining and she wanted to make the day last as long as was possible. She dreaded Saturday night with Sam.

Then she spotted the sign for the town library. A turning point in her life, although she did not know it at the time.

Stella wondered in, out of simple curiosity, and wanting something to do. Although she was not an avid reader, she did enjoy a good romantic love story once in a while.

So she browsed, drifting up one aisle and down the other. She picked up a book here and there, glancing through it. Before long she had sauntered into the “Aberrations” section. The title of the hardbound novel on the center shelf caught her eye immediately: “The Eunuch”. She picked it up, fingered through the strange erotic pages, and finally had to take a seat to read it thoroughly.

Being an innocent naive woman by nature, she was shocked to find these true tales of men being castrated by kings in olden days and then used as servants and Greek slaves. She was disappointed to finally read the end. She had no idea at that moment just why the stories had been so intriguing to her.

She searched the shelves some more, but could not find specific eunuch material. Then she realized how late it was getting, and she knew she had better get home to prepare Sam’s dinner. As she neared the information booth she asked the young black female attendant if they had Sunday hours, and was delighted to find that they did. She wanted to to ask the very friendly girl how she might find more reading material on this bizarre subject, but was too ashamed. Perhaps tomorrow.

Sam was not at home when she arrived, so she started dinner. About an hour later he came in with a friend, another dirty drunk. She knew better than to say anything or Sam might hit her, so she fed the two of them and tried to stay out of their way as best she could. Later Sam called her to bring them both a cold beer.

“How do you like the tits on my old lady, Mike?” They both laughed. “C’mere honey, I want Mike to see your boobs.” Stella tried to leave the room quickly, but Sam grabbed her blouse, ripping it half off her. “Hey bitch, you want to make me look bad in front of my friend?” He tore her bra free, and she began to cry. Sam fondled her big pink tipped breasts, laughing, asking Mike if he had ever seen a better pair of jugs in his whole life.

“Hey Mike, you want a damn good nice blow job? Hi sweetie, you going to blow Mike for me? Huh wife? You better, bitch, or I’m going to knock you silly. Now get your ass over to Mike and take his prick out and suck it good?” Stella was crying profusely and still refused. Then Sam kicked her in the rib cage and she fell on her side clutching her bruised ribs.

Terrified that he might really hurt her, Stella made herself slide on her knees to this ugly grinning drunk who sat there with his legs spread lewdly. Afraid to look into his eyes, she reached for his belt buckle. “You’re going to love this, Mike ol’ buddy, love it.”

She had to reach into his twisted dirty shorts to find the enormous red sausage-like penis. Although it was totally soft due to his drunken state, it was huge, and she needed two hands to work it free. “Goddamn Mike, you are hung, you know that man? Hey Stella, get busy, get my fuckin’ friend hard.”

Stella amost vomited as she smelled it when she closed her mouth over the huge bulbous head, as she licked the head and held the soft shaft in two hands. It started to grow bigger and bigger. “Damn Mike, ain’t no woman ever going to let you put that thing in her twat.”

Now it was very hard, and Mike had grabbed her hair, and was pulling her sad head up and down. The enormous head was almost gagging her. “Ride her cowboy. How’s it feel? Huh, Mike?”

Soon he was almost tearing her hair out by the roots. “C’mon you motherfuckin’ bitch, suck my prick, get it all, baby!” The sperm shot out like a cannon, filling every cavity in her mouth. She was crying, but had to swallow just to get the sperm down to allow her to breathe.

Afterward she sat there staring at the floor sobbing quietly. Sam had gotten up and was fondling Mike’s long thick soft penis while Mike sat there grinning at him. “Damn, this is something else, Mike. It would make three of mine.”

Suddenly, Sam decided to use Stella, sodomy-wise. She tried to rise, to run, but Sam carried her to the hassock and threw her down over it. She felt him pulling her dress up over her waist and ripping her panties off.

“Please Sam, don’t do this. It is not natural. Please Sam, not in front of a stranger. I am your wife, Sam, please!”

“Shut up, bitch! I’m going up your ass and Mike is my best friend, sure wish I had his prick. I could probably get it up to your mouth.” They both laughed as Sam was aiming his hard penis at her small puckered, and virgin, anal ring. He tore into her, causing her to scream out as she had never screamed before. He rode her lewdly, vulgarly, atrociously. When he finished and pulled free, blood covered his softening organ.

Both men fell asleep while Stella still lay over the hassock crying and shivering.

Luckily, they slept all night, and in the morning she managed to shower and get out of the house early. Her anus hurt very much as she waited for the bus to take her downtown. She did not yet know just why, but Stella had to get to the library.

She was waiting outside at ten minutes to ten, and when the doors opened, she was the first one in. She did no want to search all over the place, so she decided to get the courage up and ask for help at the information desk. She felt better to see the same black girl on duty who had been there the previous day.

“Perhaps you can help me?”

The girl was very warm and friendly, which made it all the easier for Stella to talk to her. “Yesterday I read a book entitled ‘The Eunuch’. I thought it was fascinating, and was wondering if there is more on the subject..”

The young black girl could sense how nervous and embarrassed Stella was, and remembering her from the day before, she thought she would try to relax her some.

“Certainly. I find subject matter like that very interesting, too. Anything that puts a man in his place. Let’s check the files.”

In a few minutes the young girl had compiled a list for Stella and directed her to the various areas where she might find what she was looking for. Stella finally sat down with eight books, three technical, and five biographical or auto-biographical. She read fron ten thirty until well past three without a break of any kind. She was fascinated, and during her solitary study session, Sam did begin to pop up in her head.

She needed more, she went back to the young black girl. “Thank you for all your help. I was wondering if there might be any reading matter dealing with the operation itself, actual castration techniques, manual medical information.”

The young librarian finally led Stella to a small room off the balcony level. It was filled with medical texts. “Let’s see now, F-34, J-32, and let me see, K-22. Yes, here we are. Those should help you. They deal with actual medical cases of operations, both in official surgical rooms, and on-the-spot castrations done as criminal punishments in various countries where that is the penalty for things like rape and rape-murder.”

She noticed the mad glint appear in Stella’s eyes when she mentioned the razor sharp word “rape”.

“This is probably none of my business, but I do find your fascination with this subject very interesting. If you would like to discuss it further over coffee, I would love to hear your thoughts. Is your interest personal, or technical?”


“Then I really would like to have that cup of coffee with you. But for now, I have to get back to work and you have some reading to do.”

Stella tackled the books with a new relish. The pretty black girl was interested even though Stella had told her it was a personal matter. She must have some inkling of what Stella was feeling. She read and read. When she reached those sections that dealt with on-the-spot castrations, without benefit of a surgical room, she was pleasantly shocked to find that the whole operation, the whole procedure, was simple and clean, calling for limited skills and tools.

As she was leaving the library, just before closing time, she stopped at the desk. “Thank you for all your help. I am not sure just yet what my plans are, but would tomorrow night be convenient for coffee?”

“It sure would. My name is Wanda, and yours? Stella. Hello Stella. I get off at five. You too? Good. How about the Donut Nook on 18th street? About five fifteen tomorrow afternoon? I can hardly wait. I am fascinated, and yet I am not sure just why. Bye bye.”

Sam did not question Stella on her whereabouts because he had been with Denise all day, had drunk his supper and then fallen asleep on the sofa. Stella sat there looking at him. His dirty clothes, his unshaven face, his brutal hateful bearing.

“I could do you right now, Sam, while you are asleep. Just grab a paring knife, and, Zip! You would never hurt me again, ever. But, no. No, that’s too easy. I want you to know it’s happening, to see me working on you. But how? I have gone this far, I intend to do it right. But you will be a eunuch soon, Sam, and then my slave, my clean obedient eunuch slave.”

At work the next day, Stella was trying to figure out a way to do it. To do it right. She needed help. Females just like her who could enjoy this crazy urge to castrate worthless men. How could she contact them? How could she weed them out? An Ad. A carefully worded Ad. in the personal column of the local paper. She needed a post office box. At lunch time she was fortunate enough to get one at the post office right down the street from where she worked.

That afternoon it was quiet in the office and Stella carefully composed her new Ad:

“Frustrated and abused housewife seeks similar women who feel matters have gone too far. P.O. Box L-2334, Amsterdam, Ohio.”

She met Wanda for coffee, and they simply chatted, avoiding the subject they both wanted to discuss. Finally, Stella could stand no more, she blurted it out, staring to cry as she did.

“I intend to castrate my husband. He is a bastard. He beats me, abuses me, and now even offers me to his drunken friends. I intend to make him into a eunuch.”

Wanda stared at her in disbelief. “Oh wow. Oh shit. I had a feeling you were going somewhere in a big way, Stella. But now that I heard it, I cannot believe I heard it. But yeah, shit yeah. I got a man who screwed me bad, lady, and I can really dig cutting his balls off, too, but yours first.”

They were both so happy that the secret feeling each had concealed was mutaully shared. Stella told Wanda all about the Ad. and that she wanted to castrate her husband, Sam, while he was wide awake and helpless. It was almost eight P.M. before they finally said goodnight.

Sam punched her around that evening because she was late preparing her dinner. He raped her on the kitchen floor, cutting her lip with his fist. As she lay there, being banged brutally against the cold linoleum, sipping the warm blood from her bruised lips, she thought of what was soon to come and this helped her to bear up under the obscene assault by her “legal” spouse.

The mail was unbelievable. Sixteen letters the first day. All but two were small problems from women who would never understand or go for Stella’s bizarre plan. But she called the two numbers and after a few minutes of basic conversation, Stella dropped the bomb and they both hesitated, but then finally admitted the idea was phenomenal. They agreed to meet with Stella and Wanda that Friday evening for coffee. By Thursday, Stella had phoned four more out of approx. seventeen more letters. But one was a definite “no no”, and three agreed to the coffee clatch Friday night.

That Friday evening, seven women, three black, met at the coffee shop. The seven included both Stella and Wanda. This was almost perfect. Stella had figured on half a dozen or so.

The discussion went very nicely, with Stella telling them that she was sure she could safely perform the operation in a matter of minutes with no after effects. It was agreed by all, that since this was her idea, her creation, that her Sam was to be the first victim, with the ladies helping her to subdue him. It was arranged that all six of the women would come to Stella’s home the following Saturday evening at eight.

That Saturday, Sam was watching TV, not as drunk as usual, but still high from his fifth bottle of beer. Stella was in the kitchen, very very nervous about the whole situation. She had made all the necessary purchases, and was ready. She jumped ten feet when the door bell sounded. It was Wanda. Sam was delighted to see this gorgeous black chick, and forgot a about his TV show. While he was chatting to Wanda, the doorbell sounded again. In fifteen minutes all six women were present. Sam was getting vulgar again, patting asses, asking Wanda if all black women dug big pricks.

He did not notice how nervous the ladies were, nor did he care. Wanda could not stand his bad breath, but she was trying to do her part while the ladies tried to relax and get their thoughts together.

Whispering among themselves, the ladies had agreed to let Sam force one of them down on the sofa. It turned out to be Wanda. As he sat there next to her, fondling her full breasts through her sheer blouse, Stella prepared herself, staring hard at the crotch area of his baggy trousers and trying to visualize where his testicles would be as he sat in that position.

Then, as he was trying to French kiss the black girl, and Wanda felt like throwing up, Stella reached down and closed her hand over the area where she figured his balls lay. She hit the target right on the head. Sam screamed out, “Jeusus holy Christ, Stella, let go woman, you’re rupturing me!” But Stella held fast. “Open his trousers Wanda.” The black girl did, and a hard red penis popped into view.

Sam tried to rise twice, but Stella squeezed harder, warning him to stay put. “Get the ropes ladies and tie his hands behind his back.” Sam looked up at her nervously. Stella had never seemed this determined. “Hey now, ropes? Why ropes, girls? Anything you want to do, I want to do. Hey Stella, c’mon, the joke is over. Damn you woman, let go of my balls! Hey you bitches, get your hands off of me! Hey damn you!”

Sam was no match for the determined women who actually bent him forward in his sitting position, and force his arms behind his back. He felt the ropes being tied, too damn tightly, and continued to curse them all.

Seven angry women can be more than a match for a young sober athletic male, never mind a half drunk middle aged man. He was pulled to his feet, and forced to walk into the kitchen. The long narrow table had been cleared of everything. Stella directed the whole operation, seemingly quite calmly, but her heart was beating rapidly. It was then that she realized she was having mini-orgasms that were saturating her panties.

Sam was forced onto the table and then onto his back. It was obvious he had no real idea of what was about to happen, as his penis was still erect, probably from the physical closeness of these women. “Get his trousers and shorts off, ladies.” They did so, rather easily. This was due to the fact that Sam was kicking in front of his prone body, while the ladies were working on each side of him.

A rope was passed over Sam’s waist and one girl knelt under the kitchen table to secure it. Then one knee was being tied, the rope run under the table and tied to his other knee, spreading his legs lewdly, but precisely the way Stella wanted them to be for her surgical handiwork. Finally, another rope was run over his neck and under the table. With his hands tied behind his back, he was helpless. The ladies backed off to stare down at him, defiantly, while he cursed at all of them, especially Stella, threatening to beat her to a pulp when he got free.

Then the room got very quiet as Stella laid out her surgical implements which had been boiling in hot water on the range. The ladies gathered closer, all very nervous, but very excited, too. They were each undergoing the same mini-orgasms that Stella felt. That afternoon she had replaced the small overhead kitchen bulb with a three hundred watt one that lighted his groinal area beautifully.

“What the hell are you doing down there? Damn you, Stella, answer me. Do you hear me? Damn your pig headedness!”

Sam was frightened now. He did not know why, but he both felt and saw the electric tension in each of the silent females, a waning that something major was about to take place. His body jumped nervously as she poured alcohol onto his penis and balls to cleanse the area.

Then Wanda produced the small kerchief with the crushed ice in it. Stella made sure it covered his balls completely before she tied it in a little bow. Now they had approx. a five minute wait while the ice numbed the area to be worked on.

“Well Sam, tonight is the end of the line for you. No more rapes, no more ugliness. Do you want to know why, Sam?” He tried to lift his head to look at her eyes. He was trembling now, totally sober. The women stared at him, getting hyper.

“I’m going to castrate you, Sam. Don’t understand do you? I am going to turn you into a eunuch, Sam. Your sex life as you once knew it is all over now. Oh, it won’t hurt, not much anyway. The ice will take care of that. But in a few more minutes you will no longer have any balls, Sam.”

Wanda told her the five minutes was over. The cold ice packed kerchief was removed. He felt something, but could not tell what due to the numbness. Stella was sliding his one ball upward in the sac, giving her loose folds of skin near the base to make her tiny incision.

“What are you doing there, Stella? This is all a grand joke, right? Well ladies, you sure fooled me! Now untie me if you please!”

“No joke, Sam. The jokes are all over.”

With the recently purchased scalpel, Stella carefully and nervously cut a small thin line at the base of his ball sac, approx. one inch long. A little blood showed, but not too much. She then worked the ball down again, toward the tiny slit. Then she delicately used the scalpel to slide over and around the ball, inside the sac, freeing it completely form it’s inner housing. Then she pressed again from the outside, and it came free, flopping dully to the table top, a reddish pink almost totally circular human testicle.

The women stared, one gripped the table surface as her orgasm became too intense. Stella carefully picked the tiny marble-like object up in her hand. She was breathing unevenly. It felt semi-hard, yet delicately mushy. It had been so damn easy, just like the book had said. Sam was not sure if he really felt pain or not.

Stella knew she had better continue before the effects of the ice had a chance to wear off. The second ball came free exactly like the first, with no problems. Wanda handed her the needle with the cat gut attached, and she began to stitch the two tiny incisions.

Sam felt a burning sensation. “Goddamn it, Stella, cut out this teasing! Untie me, woman! Damn it, you’re hurting me down there! Stop it, Stella! Oh shit! Hey, oooohhhhh.”

The area was washed clean with alcohol again. The whole operation took three minutes. No bleeding, no bad news. Stella held the two balls over Sam’s face. The girls all looked closely, first at his frightened eyes, then at the two delicate membranes in Stella’s hands.

“It’s all over, Sam. Here they are. You’re a eunuch now.”

Although the other ladies were very nervous about untying Sam, Stella sensed that he would never be hitting her again, and they obeyed her command to remove all the ropes. After he was free, Stella helped him to sit up. The ice coldness was wearing off, and Sam was flustered, unable to understand what was happening. He looked from woman to woman, trying to get some kind of an answer.

“Here, Sam, open your hand. Those are your balls, dear. Can you understand now?” He looked from his hand to Stella’s eyes. She was not laughing at him, not ridiculing him. His hand went to his groin. When he felt the empty sac, the skin lying in useless folds under his penis, he began to softly cry. Stella wrapped her arms around his shoulders, cuddling him.

“Cry sweetheart, get it all out of your system. I am going to take good care of you from now on. You will get used to things being different. But you will always have me, but in a much different way. I am going to train you to be my husband slave, my servant. Your mouth is going to take the place of that foul penis. It will be an ornament from now on. Nothing else. Come dear, let me help you upstairs to bed.”

The group watched as Stella helped the half nude man up the long stairway. The two balls had fallen from his hand and Wanda had picked them up. “Oh shit, I cannot believe this. Did it really happen? My damn pants are soaked! These are real balls and Stella took them off her husband’s body! Damn, am I getting horny! Is that natural?”

They all laughed and relaxed as the nervousness slowly wore off. The drinks were passed around. Stella came down smiling, quietly proud of what she had done. Sam was sleeping like a baby. They discussed the next husband to be done, Wanda’s, then each woman in order. The training process of each man after he became a eunuch was also discussed.

The weeks passed by. Quiet secret operations took place in different homes and apartments all over the city. As each woman trained and disciplined her new man, the information was passed back and forth with everyone benefitting from the results attained by another woman.

Finally, they were ready for their first party. It would be held at Stella’s. The ladies arrived with their spouses wearing normal everyday male attire, but that was only to keep their secret just that, a secret. Once inside the house, each husband had to go to the laundry room in the rear of the house, strip naked, and return to their wives, standing quietly at their sides, while the women chatted and laughed over cocktails.

Stella produced a roll of adhesive tape. “If we went to all the trouble to remove their balls, the least we should do is take their penis out of the way so we can see the results of our labors.”

Stella sat on the sofa and summoned Sam to her. He stood there quietly, passively, while she lifted his lifeless penis up against his belly and taped it there. Each eunuch husband had to stand before her for this ritual.

Stella began to laugh as she looked at all the soft flabby penises pointing up to heaven. “They almost look erect, girls, but we know better, don’t we? But this way, that empty bag is where we can see it, and touch it. I don’t know about you girls, but I get very horny holding Sam’s testicle bag, and after a few minutes of rubbing it, I must have his very sexy mouth and tongue. Wanda dear, would you be offended if I wanted to rub your spouse’s bag? I have never touched a black man, and you did his surgery yourself.”

“Be my guest, Stella dear, but no eunuch swapping.”

Everyone laughed at this very appropriate joke. Stella summoned Charlie over, and once he saw the permission given visually by his wife, Wanda, came to attention before Stella, who was still sitting. His sac was big, and she remembered hat his balls had been quite big, too. She rubbed his sac in the palm of her two hands. She loved the silky feel, the emptiness.

“Sam, get me a drink. Oh, this feels so good, ladies. This may sound shameful, but in a moment I am going to have to engage in sexual intercourse with my high flying husband. I hope you will not think we are vulgar.” Again the laughter.

Stella rose and slid her pink panties out from under her chiffon dress. “Sam, lover, come over here and make love to me right now. Show these excuses for men what real love making is all about.” Sam fell to his hands and knees, and his head disappeared under the chiffon cloak hiding him. “Oh Sam, you are the best lover in the whole damn world, do you know that?”

His tongue curled, slid under soft delicate warm flesh, found spots that his wife loved. His pleasure was in his tongue. He felt it, loved it. Sam was there. He had arrived.

story text

“A Meek Wolf among Savage Lambs” by Edouard Roditi

Summary: A poet sneaks into a harem to get an exclusive story and unexpectedly ends up being made a permanent member of it.

In the early and happier years of the reign of our late Sultan Abdul Hamid, may his sick and troubled soul rest in peace, it suddenly became fashionable among the more idle and wealthy Infidels to visit our glorious capital. Overnight, great trains, real caravanserais on wheels with bedrooms, bathrooms, and restaurants installed in their carriages, began to unload almost daily, on the platforms of Sirkeji Station, the oddest crowds of monocled and side-whiskered gentlemen accompanied by their unveiled womenfolk, who wore dead birds on their heads and had the voices of petulant screech owls. All of them were intent, in a frenzy of indecent curiosity, on violating what they believed to be the lascivious mysteries of our enigmatic Orient.

News of this relatively peaceful invasion soon permeated the harems of the more elegant yalis, or waterfront villas, inhabited, along the shores of the Bosphorus, by the great Ottoman families. In the absence of their husbands, most of whom now played poker all day in the lounges of the Pera Palace Hotel in the new Boyoglu quarter of Istanbul, some idle and frivolous Turkish ladies began to organize tea parties, known in the French they had learned from the nuns of Notre Dame de Sion as “le five o’clock”, in the course of which they entertained, with such outlandish delicacies as ham sandwiches and cerises a l’eau de vie, chattering groups of enthusiastic foreign ladies who wore monstrous artificial horse-hair buttocks that could fool the eye of no reasonable man. Recruited by tourist agencies which promised to arrange that they be admitted as guests to the most inaccessible of our aristocratic harems, these impudent unveiled hoydens paid substantial fees, shared by the touts of the tourist industry with their equally impudent hostesses, for the privilege of then swapping clothes all afternoon with their new Turkish friends. The latter were fascinated when they were able to preen themselves in front of a mirror while trying on a Paris hat that looked like a Dutch still life painting of fruit, flowers, vegetables, and dead birds — why never a fish? — or a Viennese corset brutal from the world-famous Kartnerstrasse atelier of the firm of Geschwister Zwieback und Gebruder Krafft-Ebbing, while their foreign guests likewise enjoyed seeing themselves wearing veils instead of lorgnettes and feather boas, and ample harem robes instead of wasp-waisted corsets and the absurd prosthetic bottoms known in those days as bustles.

Up to a point, all this masquerading was still innocent fun, though it heralded worse to come, I mean the excesses of the present age, when a Turkish gentleman who responds patriotically to his country’s call and presents himself for a medical examination before joining our glorious armed forces may suddenly find himself as naked as Adam, our common ancestor, in the Earthly Paradise, but in the presence of a bevy of shameless women who claim to have medical degrees from foreign universities with unpronounceable names, while male film stars run around our streets mysteriously veiled in order to protect their heavily insured complexions from the rays of our relatively mild sun.

Be all that as it may, it came one day to pass, in those innocent days of the reign of Sultan Abdul Hamid, that a French poet reached Istanbul with an assignment, from the editors of La Vie Parisienne, to penetrate one of our harems under false pretenses in order to reveal in ribald prose, to his lascivious Parisian readers, the secrets of our traditionally modest family life. Sacrificing his waxed moustache and goatee beard to the cause of what is now know, in our topsy-turvy “unisex” world, as “the free flow of information”, this poet dolled himself up, in the privacy of his Pera Palace Hotel apartment, as a rather athletic-looking English maiden lady, all tweeds and tobacco-stained finger tips, and then arranged through the touts who swarm around the offices of the Thomas Cook and Sons travel agency to be included in one of their organized harem parties. This particular group included, in addition to our transvestite poet, among others the wives of two Jewish bankers from Berlin, a Muscovite princess, the late Mrs. Potter Palmer from Chicago, a French cocotte traveling as the Comtesse de Mirabelle with an American millionaire from the Barbary coast, wherever that may be, but who spent all his time in a drunken stupor in his hotel room, and a tight-lipped English suffragette who already planned to distribute, specially printed in Turkish by an Armenian refugee printer in Manchester, among her unfortunate Moslem sisters, I mean her ignominiously secluded and veiled hostesses.

The French cocotte, like many ladies of her profession in that culturally enlightened age, happened to be a patroness of the arts and letters, in fact a close friend of Pierre Loti and the original recipient of those “Lettres a une Sphynge” for which Remy de Gourmont has become justly immortal, and the original model too of the famous representation of the sphinx, half woman and half panther, that earned the Belgian painter Ferdinand Khnopff such immediate celebrity among the readers of The Yellow Book when he exhibited his masterpiece in London’s Grosvenor Gallery. She thus recognized our distinguished French poet at a first glance, in spite of his hairless chin and upper lip and his odd disguise. But she was a woman of some wit, endowed with a curious mind. Smiling enigmatically in the manner that won her the name and reputation of a sphinx, she decided to say nothing and to wait and see.

It thus came to pass that our party of ladies proceeded, in an assortment of arabahs, victorias, barouches, landaus, and other carriages, all the way from the Pera Palace Hotel to a yali situated on the shore of the Bosphorus just beyond the Jewish suburb, or Ortakoy, where they were all expected that afternoon as paying guests in one of the more conservative harems of our Ottoman aristocracy. The Turkish ladies of this very proper household had decided but recently, under pressure of their lord and master’s heavy gambling debts, to violate their cherished privacy by entertaining, for a considerable fee, only the most carefully selected groups of foreign women.

It was a warm day and the drive was longer than our poet expected. The carriage where he sat was crowded and flea-infested; besides, he as ill at ease in the tight corset to which he was unaccustomed. When the party reached the yali of its hostesses, he was already suffering from brief dizzy spells. Later, as the mood of the party became more relaxed, informal, and intimate, the ladies began to swap clothes with delighted squeals. Terrified of being unmasked, our poet remained fully dressed and seated bolt upright on a divan while the beads of sweat trickled down his face and smeared his carefully contrived make-up. The Comtesse de Mirabelle watched him with malicious glee as she performed before his eyes what actually amounted to a strip-tease. Suddenly, he swooned.

When he came to, the next day, he was surprised by the obsolete pitch of his own voice that rang in his ears like a memory of his almost forgotten and innocent boyhood triumphs as solo singer in a Jesuit College choir. With a shock, our poet realized that he was already an integrated, permanent inmate of this harem into which he had so unwisely ventured. His hostesses, he learned, had kindly rushed to his rescue, when they saw him swoon, and promptly unlaced his corset, revealing a hairy chest beneath the padding that concealed it. To their horror, they then discovered that a man was in their midst. Only one thing could now be done to save their honor. The Chief Eunuch was hastily summoned and instructed to make our poet immediately acceptable as a harem guest.

When he finally recovered from his operation a few weeks later, our poet was entrusted, as a kind of French mademoiselle, with the education of the young ladies of the harem, teaching them to recite par coeur the poems of Lamartine and of Eugene Manuel. To his editor of La Vie Parisienne he explained, in a somewhat evasive letter, that he had fallen in love with the Turkish way of life and would probably never return to this old haunts on the Paris boulevards.

Far from ever violating, for ribald French readers, the secrets of our mysterious Orient, he remained content, in the years that followed, with writing every once and a while a book describing Turkish family life in the most glowing but decorous terms. Several such manuscripts went the round of the Paris publishing houses before finding one that was courageous enough to risk marketing such unusually decent accounts of the secluded life of our harems. Unfortunately, our poet died relatively young, but the few published works of his mature Turkish period are now cherished in France as veritable classics of a rare kind of exoticism that concentrates on the virtues rather than the vices of an alien civilization.

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Letters to Mistress Sandy from Dominant Mystique magazine

Summary: Many women count on Mistress Sandy’s sound advice on how to handle their submissive male slaves. Mistress Sandy seems to think that it’s generally a pretty good idea to have your slave castrated.

Dear Sandy,

In a recent letter to you, Mistress Pat said she would like to castrate her slave and asked for information. I am replying because I castrated my slave five years ago. I can tell you eunuchs do indeed make the best slaves. I am 42 years old, my slave is 47. I love him in my own special way, but the real reason I married him twelve years ago was to make him a slave. He is my second husband and my third slave. I suppose Mistress Pat wonders about sex. When I want intercourse, I strap a hollow dildo over my slave’s cock. Then I can fuck him for hours without having him spoil my fun by coming too soon, or not being ready when I want more. But I love cunnilingus more. I taught him the fine points of eating pussy, which is really an art. I trained him so well that he got to loving it, maybe because I often rubbed his cock until he came while I was still coming. Sort of a Pavlovian conditioned response.

I taught him to develop a high tolerance for pain. Sometimes I actually come just from making him suffer. His money, which of course is all mine, along with all that lovely money my first husband left me, was enough for me to make him quit work and be a 24-hour slave. This took quite a bit of doing, but his whole attitude cried out for it. He is totally submissive by nature, as I believe most males are, if handled properly by a dominant woman. I won’t try to describe his months of training, but I am proud of the job I did turning him into a true slave. The only thing I didn’t do was brown showers, which I think degrade a Mistress more than the slave. Eventually, I allowed him to come only if his face was in my pussy. I didn’t want him squirting that gook inside me.

Well, let’s get to the point. He began to get pushy about wanting sex, and I got tired of being responsible for his orgasms. I began to resent them. I decided to castrate him. He screamed bloody murder when I told him I was going to cut off his balls, but I could easily tell that secretly he was fascinated. My cunt used to drip just from thinking about such incredible power over a human being, assuming slaves are human, which is quite an assumption.

Here is what finally happened. I took him to a clinic in Mexicali I had heard about, but they refused to castrate him. They said there was no medical reason for it. My story was that he had testicular cancer and was told castration would ease the pain, but they didn’t believe me and still said no. Finally, I was able to talk with the lady in charge. I told her the truth. I showed her his brand, his “slave” tattoos and his cock and nipple rings. I had ordered slave to tell her how much he wanted this operation, and he begged for it. She finally agreed that with a doctor’s certificate stating slave had terminal cancer, she would do it. We went home and arranged for a forged letter, which made it all legal. That, and five thousand American dollars.

They removed his scrotum along with his testicles. There is no real change in his voice. He gets a fairly decent erection once in a while, but it doesn’t last and leads to nothing. There may be little less growth of facial hair. I don’t know about his body hair because it has all been shaved for years. He gained a little weight, but he has not developed breasts or curves because that requires female hormones. I thought about giving him those, but I think I prefer him this way. It’s fun to play with his useless cock as it dangles there all by itself. Sometimes I suck it just for the hell of it. I can no longer whip his balls, but I can still torture his cock. Even today, I still get excited by rubbing the scar between his legs where his balls used to hang, and relish the awesome power I have over him, power which made him not only willing, but eager to sacrifice his manhood for me. This power over inferior males is what makes us Superior Women tick, isn’t it, Sandy?

I must tell you, this is probably the most satisfying thing I have ever done as a Mistress. I no longer have to be concerned with his orgasms, but he can fuck for hours to give me mine. He seems to be happy as long as I let him eat my pussy, which I make him do almost every day.

I certainly am not crusading for wholesale castration of slaves. To qualify for castration, I believe a slave should live for at least two years as a full-time slave. He must accept wholeheartedly the fact that he and his whole body, including his balls, belong to his Mistress. I ordered slave to write his comments. I gave him my word that he could say anything he wanted without punishment. His feelings are of very little concern to me, because frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. He is only a slave.

SLAVE’S COMMENTS: Most people would be surprised that I am happy as a eunuch, probably happier than my Mistress realizes. All my life my cock got me in lots of trouble. In a way that’s hard to explain not having balls is a kind of relief. It eliminates many terrible days and nights of sexual frustration. Naturally, I still think of the “good old days” of sticking my cock in a woman and pumping my brains out, but as I look back, it was such a temporary blast that I don’t see why I ever thought it was such a big deal. Even when I had balls, there was nothing as wonderful as the delicious taste of her feminine juices and her golden nectar, and I still have that. Losing my taste buds would be a lot worse than losing my balls.

My Mistress is the most wonderful woman who ever lived. Being a slave is the best thing that ever happened to me. I had no idea I was submissive, but I love her with all my heart for seeing this in me. I am needed, wanted, cherished and loved in a way ordinary males can’t begin to imagine. She expands my universe far beyond its limited horizons. Others could never understand the great emotional fulfillment I get from living only to serve my Mistress, to suffer for her and to give pleasure. I think you have to be a real slave or a real Mistress to understand this. Most people write us off as perverted or crazy, or both. They just don’t know how wonderful it is to be loved and owned.


Mistress Carol

Dear Mistress Carol,

Power is what makes the world go round, and if it happens to be in our hands (as it rightfully should be) – all the better. I would love to see pictures of his ball-less and hairless body. If you don’t want to show his slavish puss, just send photos of his crotch. What a turn-on it must be for you!! I envy you.



Dear Sandy,

Recently I have read several articles by dominant women who show an interest in having their male slaves castrated. After owning several slaves, I would like to give my reasons for keeping my slave’s balls intact.

Firstly, a male’s cock is his most prized possession. Nothing is more enjoyable than watching the look on my slave a face, when either my girlfriends or I make fun of his hard-on. After two years of being laughed at and hearing how small it is, he is now embarrassed to take it out of his pretty panties. I like to make him kneel at the foot of my bed while I use a vibrator to satisfy myself. He must then say how sorry he is for not being able to satisfy me.

Secondly, I have a very good job and don’t need my slave to support me. I do however enjoy the extra money I make by renting my slave to other women. He cleans a woman’s beauty parlor once a week, and the homes of several other women. He is also rented out to private female parties. Several women pay me to have my slave serve them orally. After talking to my clients, I know I would lose most of this income if he was a eunuch.

Thirdly, there is no better way to punish a slave than by inflicting pain on his genitals. There are many clamps, weights and other devices especially designed to torture a man’s genitals. I enjoy chaining my slave to my X-frame and covering his cock and balls with twenty or more clothespins. The look in his eyes and his pleading for mercy tell me he is in real pain. Same slaves will disobey their owner on purpose because they enjoy being whipped but not too many will displease their owners if they know their precious balls will be hit with a crop or penis whip.

Finally, when you train a new puppy, it must be rewarded at appropriate times. Training a slave is no different. Giving a slave permission to jerk off is the reward he will want most. He will work very hard to please you if he knows sexual relief might be his reward. If he has earned it, my slave is allowed to masturbate once a week, usually on Saturday night. He must kneel and beg for permission to cum. One of my girlfriends is normally present to add to his humiliation. When given permission, he must cum on a mirror which is on the floor in front of him. He then must lick the mirror clean, forcing him to humiliate himself. I believe without the urge to have sexual relief, a slave would be difficult to train. While I have never owned a eunuch, I think the best slaves are the ones with their balls intact.

Thanks for the useful publication.


Mistress Martha

Dear Mistress Martha,

You, too, have a point, however, not all pleasure is derived from orgasms. The satisfaction a eunuch can derive in his brain from the pleasure he gives his Mistress can, in fact, supersede any momentary gratification he gets from an orgasm. It is my belief that over the long run, emotional happiness from giving the one you love pleasure, is far superior to any other, and can be strived for just as much as one would strive for physical release.



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“Lady Charlotte and the Groom” from Cruella magazine

Summary: Lady Charlotte displays her usual cavalier attitude towards gelding the ‘livestock’ she owns.

Lady Charlotte arrives at the stables for an invigorating afternoon ride; the memory of the mornings ‘ride’ with Melanie still fresh in her mind.

She stoops to flick a speck of dust from her boots and immediately senses a young groom’s eyes eroding the taut cloth of her brilliant white jodhpurs.

With a single movement she stands, twists around and slashes her riding crop across his left cheek, eliciting a screech of agony.

She grabs him by the hair and thrusts the crop beneath his chin to force his head back. The young male, paralyzed with pain and fear, makes no attempt to resist.

She brings her face very close to his; then, gazing down at him, says, evenly: “You were ogling me, weren’t you?”

“N… No, My Lady,” he replies hoarsely, the crop constricting his larynx.

“Yes you were. You were staring at my arse; and no doubt dreaming sordid little fantasies about it.” He tries to repeat his denial but the riding crop is now choking him, preventing speech and even the shaking of his head.

Lady Charlotte takes his silence for an admission of guilt. “So,” she says. “A pervert.” She raises her right knee swiftly and with experienced accuracy into the young man’s groin, crushing his genitals. He would scream did she not retain her stranglehold; and that same grip keeps him on his feet allowing her to repeat the blow a second and then a third time.

Lady Charlotte leaves the groom beside the stables, close to passing out. She untethers Beauty, her new stallion, mounts him and rides out into the paddock for a round over the jumps.

The youngster cost nearly two hundred thousand pounds but he is headstrong and needs frequent reminders with the crop along his flanks. Despite Lady Charlotte’s expertise he still manages to bring down two of the fences. After half an hour of rigorous exercise she trots him back to the stables, convinced as to the ideal remedy for his inadequacies.

The chastised groom has recovered his senses and he is quick to kneel in the dust beside the horse to allow Lady Charlotte to stand on him whilst dismounting.

“He needs gelding,” she says, easily. “I shall telephone the vet now… Have him ready for her arrival in half an hour.” “Yes, my lady.”

She turns and walks away towards the house. The groom, pretending to busy himself with the horse, takes the opportunity for another sly glance at her delightful but utterly untouchable behind. Again, Lady Charlotte’s sixth sense alerts her to his intrusive gaze. She halts, turns and smiles – wide mouthed and bright eyed.

“Perverts and headstrong horses,” she says… “When the vet has finished with Beauty she can start on you.” She allows her eyes to drop for a fraction of a second to the groom’s groin, illustrating her meaning, then tosses her head back in a burst of wholesome laughter.

She turns and walks very slowly towards the house, listening to the repetitive and increasingly hysterical pleas from the man who still cannot help but watch her gently rolling buttocks.

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“Susan’s Pet” by Anonymous

Summary: Susan is a domme and he is her pet boy. Like a responsible pet owner, she had him fixed.

Susan had been my Dominatrix for a year. I agreed to be her pet boy, and I did everything she asked. Susan wanted me to become her gelding. So one Saturday we went to a medical facility run by some of Susan’s friends. They spoke with me and I told them that they should do whatever Susan said.

The doctor had me strip, examined me briefly, then had the nurse lead Susan and I to the operating room. The nurse had me lie on the table. Soon I was strapped down with my legs up, feet in stirrups, ready for the procedure. The nurse was a cute redhead, perhaps 25.

She positioned herself between my legs and said, “This will feel very cold at first!” She began swabbing my balls. She next swabbed my cock; the cold surprised me. I flinched. The nurse said “We have to make sure you don’t get excited, so I need to medicate that too!” As the cold gave way to numbness, my cock and sac shrank small and tight. The nurse took note of this and said, “Good! Now I can get started.” She applied shaving cream to my scrotum. She looked at me and cheerfully said, “So! Somebody’s getting fixed today!”

I replied, “Yes ma’am!” Susan had instructed me to address all females as “Ma’am”.

The nurse asked Susan, “Are you just neutering your pet boy, or will you turn him into a girl ?”

Susan replied, “The main reason we’re here is to get those nads off of him, but I also don’t want anyone mistaking my gelding for a full-fledged male. He’ll be feminized enough. Since I don’t want my gelding interested in females, the doctor has had me watching him closely. My boy tells me what kinds of women turn him on, what states of dress get his attention, what he fantasizes about – all that male stuff. We will use this as a baseline to see how well the neutering is working.”

The nurse continued to hold my shaving-cream covered sac while conversing with Susan. I could feel her handling my balls; only the skin was numb. I should have been getting hard, but I couldn’t. My cock was tightly shrunken and numbed by the anesthetic. She gently massaged and rolled my balls. It was a pleasant torture. I wondered if she was aware of what she was doing.

The nurse looked at me and said, bluntly, “How are you doing here? Am I doing this right?”

I didn’t know what to say. I hesitated. Susan said, “Answer the lady, sweetie! Does that feel good?”

I replied, “Oh. Yes, ma’am! That’s very good!”

The nurse stopped, then gave my cock a few tugs. “How are we doing here?” she asked.

“Numb” I said.

She then shaved my sac and cleaned me up. It seemed like she was taking her time and trying to handle my balls as much as possible. She prolonged the ‘torture’ as long as she could.

The doctor was a good looking blonde, probably not much older than the nurse.

She announced, “You’ll feel a slight jab”. I felt the needle go through the numbed skin and into the middle of my sack. Now my balls took their turn feeling cold as the doctor finished the task. The cold soon gave way to numbness. The doctor jostled my sac around. “Anything?” she asked.

There were only vague sensations. I said “No, ma’am, not much of anything.”

The doctor said, “Do you feel this?”

“No, Ma’am.” I replied.

Faintly, I could feel tugging at my sac. Sometimes I felt a soft pinch. Something was definitely going on down there, but I didn’t feel much. Was she injecting more anesthetic? Were they shaving more? I guessed that they were making sure the anesthetic really took hold. I continued to feel the doctor tooling around as she conversed with me.

She explained, ”Susan says you like girls a lot. She doesn’t want that and I agree with her. I want to make sure you understand that what I’m doing will make you forget about girls. When you go to the beach again, you won’t react to half naked women. They will no longer stand out sexually for you. Eventually, you won’t even remember what sexual feelings were like.”

I replied, “Yes, Ma’am. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Susan wanted me neutered, therefore I would be. I needed to say no more.

Susan was standing near the doctor, watching everything. She said “My boy saw a lot of pretty girls on the beach yesterday, didn’t you dear?”

Yes, ma’am!” I said.

She continued, “Do you like your nurse, sweetheart? Did you enjoy her hands on your balls?”

Yes, ma’am!” I said.

Susan continued, ”Boy, be honest, did she arouse you?”

Yes ma’am”, I admitted.

Susan said in a firmer voice, “Boy, apologize to the lady!”

I told the nurse, “Ma’am, I’m sorry for getting aroused.”

The nurse replied, “Apology accepted!” She then displayed one of my balls. They had removed the first one.

Soon the second ball was removed and the doctor began stitching me up. The nurse put the ball in a specimen jar with its mate. The nurse topped off the preservative and sealed the jar. With a smile, she handed the jar to Susan, saying, “I believe these are yours!”

Susan returned the smile and accepted the jar, saying, “Yes they are, thanks!”

The doctor soon stitched me up. The nurse was standing beside me. She looked down and said “You’re going to feel a bee sting for a second.” I felt a jab in my bottom, but it didn’t bother me much. I was getting tired.

“What was it?” I asked.

The doctor replied, “Mostly estrogen, but with a few other things. It ensures effective neutering, and promotes female secondary characteristics. This will get you started, then you will see me once a month or so. You’ll also be taking some things at home.”

Susan looked down at me, smiled, and patted my shoulder. “Tits!” she said. “Some firm little “B” cups for my little gelding! I’m sure you’re going to like them, dear. You’ll get smoother, rounder, and no one will mistake you for a male.”

I must have fallen asleep. It was hours later. Susan and the nurse were helping me to stand up. I was groggy and the two women helped me dress. Instead of offering me my undershorts, they fitted me with some silky panties. The nurse noticed my bewilderment and explained, “the panties are less irritating to the incision.” Some full-length hose came next, “to improve circulation”.

They put me into a red skirt, cut above the knees. The doctor explained, “Pants would put pressure on the incision.”

Finally, Susan said, “Now, as my girly little gelding, I want you to be modest about your breasts. Here’s a little something for you.” She helped me into a delicate blouse, cut between the waist and breast line. It would have just covered my breasts, if I had any.

Very nice!“ said the doctor.

Susan seemed satisfied with the procedure and took her new gelding home.

Two months after my surgery the neutering had set in. I no longer had erections and my penis was getting smaller. Sure enough, when Susan took me to the beach, bikini clad females no longer drew special attention from me. Before I was fixed, good looking women caught my eye. Now they were just members of the crowd. This was fascinating to both Susan and myself.

Susan took me to the volley ball area where we watched an all-female game. Of course, Susan had taken me there before. There were always plenty of delicious women to feast the eyes on. Susan gave me some time to enjoy the view and then said, simply, “WelI?” I told Susan that the girls were not exciting me. I suggested that the teams had changed. Susan said, “Gelding, dear, in the past you were too busy looking at tits and ass to notice the faces. The girls are the same. The only thing that’s changed is you!”

Susan gave me what she now refers to as, “The Hot Tub Test”. Before I became Susan’s gelding, she would often invite her friends Liz and Connie to come over and use the hot tub with us. Sometimes we would just relax and converse; other times we played like kids, splashing each other and generally carrying on. Often the play became sexual to some degree. I couldn’t be in the tub with these three for very long without getting a throbbing hard-on and blue balls. One day Susan told her friends “go ahead and take care of him”. Liz and Connie were great, and the next time we got together in the tub, the anticipation of a possible fling intensified my desire. Susan allowed us to go at it on two other occasions, but usually Susan had me abstain. Of course, Susan wanted to see how badly I wanted her friends.

Several months after Susan had me fixed, Liz and Connie joined us in the hot tub once again. The girls were interested in seeing how Susan’s gelding was turning out. We were always nude in the tub, so it was easy for them to find out.

Liz said, “Your gelding is going to be a cute girl!”

Indeed, my breasts were coming in nicely and my figure was becoming very feminine.

Connie added, “I like the way he’s disappearing!” referring to my shrinking penis. Not only were erections a thing of the past, but my cock was one third of its former size.

Susan let more than half an hour go by and then asked me, “Do you need the girls to take care of you tonight?” After the question sank in, I suddenly realised that I did *not* need the girls to take care of me. I was having fun with the water, oblivious to the charms of Susan’s friends. The neutering had worked; I was definitely Susan’s gelding now.

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“Neutering The Pet” by Anonymous

We’ve decided on neutering for you,” Mistress Claire told her pet, smiling broadly as she did so. A lovely 36-year old blonde, she shared ownership of the slave with several girlfriends who, like her, were married and young mothers.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the slave answered obediently and almost in a whisper. He had hoped this moment would never come, but Claire had long ago made it clear that this treatment was necessary.

Actually, the women had decided on this a year earlier, using the time since to locate a female veterinarian and to intensify the slave’s Feminization and obedience training through ever longer and more extreme stays in dog kennels.

It was felt that these activities would speed the pet’s adjustment to the neutered state.

“Have you any questions?,” the Mistress asked in a gently feminine voice.

“Will you do it?” he asked.

“No, I’m afraid it’s beyond my skills, but I’ll assist the veterinarian if she’ll allow that. The procedure is complicated and best left in the hands of a professional. She’ll ensure that it is done safely and all but painlessly under local anesthesia.

“I’ll take you to the veterinarian tonight and after you’ve been neutered you will remain in her kennel overnight for observation. I’ll stay with her and, if all goes well, bring you back here tomorrow afternoon,” the Mistress said.

“It’s to be done tonight?” the slave asked in amazement.

“Yes, we’ll be leaving in a few minutes, actually,” the Mistress replied.

She had mercifully left her announcement to the last moment to spare her slave the anxiety that might have arisen from too long a period between the sentence and realization of castration.

The Mistress knew the slave would willingly, though perhaps not eagerly, accept her decision and so was confident in making the final arrangements.

“You will strip now,” the Mistress ordered.

The slave was only dressed in the normal “serving” attire of bra and panties and instantly removed these to stand naked before the Mistress.

She quickly locked the leather dog collar and three-foot chain leash around the pet’s neck and pulled the lead taut with her left hand. With her right, she lifted the Kali Chastity, a fearsome metal band with 120 internal spikes now secured by another padlock tightly around the slave’s penis.

He sucked in his breath in pain as she tested the security of the Kali, which was designed to punish erections or even “impure” thoughts or any other arousal in response to women. Even during the brief periods that the device was not in place, the slave could not sustain an erection so there was no chance of ever having sex with a woman. That was forbidden, anyway.

In contrast, submissive sex with men was viewed as “natural and proper” for the pet by Mistress Claire and her girlfriends, so the Kali was removed at such times to permit arousal that the slave was, in fact, embarrassed by.

The Mistress now ran her fingers gently over the slave’s balls, causing a pleasant sensation and helping to calm her pet.

Then she took an overnight bag with her things and a fresh bra and panty set for the slave and gently led her pet by the leash through the door to the garage. She opened the rear hatch of her sports utility vehicle and motioned for the slave, still naked, to climb in. A big woven wire dog pen was anchored there.

“Into the cage with you,” she ordered.

The slave was then harnessed within the cage for safety in case of short stops and the door of the pen was closed, but not locked shut.

“Rest now. It’s about a two hour drive to the vet’s country home where the procedure will be done. She’s waiting for us there,” the Mistress said. With that she placed a thin, white cotton hood over the cage.

This cover served to help keep the pet warm during the journey, to hide the pen’s contents from onlookers through the windows and prevent the slave from learning the location of the Surgical Mistress’ home.

The slave tried to rest during the trip as the Mistress had ordered, but his mind raced with thoughts of what would occur in just a few hours. While the pet accepted that both the neutering and the Mistress’ decision to order it were entirely proper, there was fear of the actual procedure.

Finally, the vehicle pulled to a stop at the destination and the Mistress removed the hood and opened the cage. She had honked the horn twice upon their arrival and the veterinarian now came out to greet them.

Stepping to the ground, the pet immediately assumed a position on all fours while Mistress Claire held the leash gently in her hands. The house appeared to be located on a farm in the country with no other buildings around, so the slave’s nakedness would not shock the neighbors.

The Surgical Mistress was an Irish lady of 26 with a cute turned up nose and model-like features. She had long black hair and wore a white silk blouse and short, black cotton skirt. Like the pet’s owners, she was happily married but had strong feelings for others of her sex.

“Welcome, Claire,” the woman said with a smile, “it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Yes, and I’ve brought a friend with me this time,” Claire answered.

“How lovely,” she replied, as if she had no idea why the pet was brought to her.

With that, the two women kissed in greeting, first on the lips and then more intimately. Claire was surprised at how forward the other lady was since she hardly knew her, but she was pleased that they would become much closer later that evening.

“Let’s go to the examining room,” the veterinarian said, leading the way there.

Now, turning to the pet, she said: “You’re to be neutered tonight. How do you feel about that?”

“I know it’s necessary, but I’m a little nervous,” came the response.

“Well, that’s natural, but there’s nothing to worry about. It will all be over before you know and afterward you’ll be calmer and even content in the service of women.”

Mistress Claire smiled in satisfaction at the words.

Picking up a riding whip, the Surgical Mistress tapped the Kali Chastity with its harsh spikes locked onto the penis. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Only during erections,” the slave responded.

“Well, you’ll soon be less troubled by those,” she said.

“Can the pet function with women?” the lady asked of Claire.

“I doubt it, but we don’t really know since we have not permitted sex with women in nearly 10 years and never will. The pet does suck ‘cock’ and receive it anally, if you’ll forgive the vulgarity,” the Mistress replied.

“How delightful,” the veterinarian said with a smile and then, turning to the slave, she asked: “Do you like taking it up the ass?”

“Yes, Mistress,” the slave was forced to answer, giving the only response permissible to such a question since it was seriously punishable to imply that sex with males was in any way objectionable. After all, the Mistresses had ruled that this was the only form of sexual activity appropriate for the pet.

“Once you’re fixed, sexual thoughts of women will be less prevalent and sex with men even more satisfying,” the Mistress said.

The next 15 minutes were spent getting a medical history, doing a basic physical and checking for any allergies to antibiotics or various anesthesia drugs.

Finally, the veterinarian said “I’m afraid the Kali band must be removed for the procedure and remain off for a few days after.”

Claire then unlocked and removed the device, placing it into her pocketbook.

“Would you like to watch the procedure?” the woman asked.

“Of course I’d love that if it would not trouble you.”

“Not at all. You’ll simply have to wear a mask and surgical scrubs as I do for sanitary purposes.”

“That will be fine. Thank you.”

“I must now ask you formally. Do you accept neutering?,” the lady inquired.

Once the Mistresses had issued the neutering sentence, the slave could not escape it unless they changed their minds. However, declining the procedure could bring a delay of one month at a time with automatic rescheduling until it finally was accomplished. This option was not explained to the slave since immediate agreement was fully expected and obtained.

“Yes, Mistress,” the slave responded, faintly.

“Very well. Let’s proceed,” she said, motioning for Mistress Claire and her pet to follow her into the operating room. The lady now removed her blouse and skirt, preparatory to donning her surgical clothes, and she pulled down her panties.

“You may kiss my sex now in thanks,” she said.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the slave responded, bringing lips tentatively to her pubic mound and then, fearfully, to her outer labia.

The act highlighted the superiority of the female’s sex since the genitals of the lady surgeon and the Mistress would remain intact while those of the slave would shortly be sacrificed for the pleasure of women.

Mistress Claire then presented her own sex to be similarly kissed in respect, spreading her legs slightly so that her nether lips were partially open.

The slave noticed in kissing her that her pubic mound was damp, betraying her sexual excitement at the prospect of the pet’s castration at her command.

The Mistress herself noticed the slave’s mild erection at the sight of two lovely young women and their pubic mounds. She smiled, but grabbed the balls and squeezed painfully to punish her slave’s improper behavior.

“I’ll miss these,” she said, “but not as much as you will.”

“Actually, you’ll still have them to play with,” the Surgical Mistress said, casting a knowing smile to Mistress Claire. The slave did not quite understand the meaning of this, but it would become clear shortly.

With that, she gave the leash a gentle tug and urged the pet onto the operating table. It was lightly padded and covered with white plastic, a new sanitary sheet. Hands were secured with leather straps to the sides, the middle was similarly immobilized and the ankles restrained at the base of the table.

A white cotton screen was then moved into place at the level of the pet’s chest, blocking the view of the surgical field.

“You’ll be more comfortable not seeing the action, but I’ll describe the procedure at various points,” the veterinarian explained.

The two women then left the room briefly to wash thoroughly and put on their surgical gowns, gloves and masks to ensure sanitary conditions.

“I’m going to shave your balls first and then apply antiseptic to the area. Hold very still as I work with the razor. We don’t want any accidents,” the Surgical Mistress said, quite seriously.

Of course she quickly realized the humor of her words as she saw Claire’s smile. Nicking the scrotum with the blade would be of no consequence since it was about to be slit open and its contents removed.

“I’m going to inject the anesthetic now,” the Mistress said.

“You’ll feel a brief sting and then a burning sensation as it circulates through the scrotum. Once the area is numbed, I’ll inject the balls themselves with a more powerful anesthetic and the preservative solution.”

She smiled at Mistress Claire and had not intended to detail the purposes of this special solution. However, the pet’s owner asked “Won’t you tell us more about the preservative?”

“Yes, Mistress. Of course. The solution has three tasks. First, of course, it’s an anesthetic. However, the bulk of it will preserve the balls since your Mistress wishes to display these to her girlfriends in a jar. The preservative must be injected while they are still within the body for complete circulation. Once they’re in the jar, they will appear forever just as they did upon removal.”

“One side effect of the preservative is that it destroys the function of the testes, so you’ll be chemically castrated even if your Mistress decides not to proceed with surgical removal of your balls.”

“There’s no chance of that,” Claire assured her.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” With that, she gave the first of several injections to numb the scrotal sac.

After a few minutes, the anesthetic took effect and the Mistress announced: “I’ll now inject the preservative into the balls. We’ll then wait 10 minutes until you’re fully numb and chemical castration is complete. After that, I’ll begin the formal neutering procedure.”

With that, she made several injections into first the right ball and then the left. There was an immediate burning sensation, but no pain.

“How does it feel?” the Surgical Mistress asked.

“It burns a bit,” the slave answered.

“That’s natural and to be expected. It will quickly subside once the preservative has fully circulated and the chemical neutering is complete.”

The Mistresses then made small talk as they waited for the anesthetic and preservative to take full effect.

Finally, the Surgical Mistress announced: “I’m happy to report that you’ve been neutered. Ordinarily, chemical castration is at least theoretically reversible, but given the action of the preservative, that does not apply in your case.”

“I mention this only in passing since you are to be neutered in traditional fashion anyway in just a few moments,” she continued.

The slave felt pinches and mild pressure as the Surgical Mistress worked, re-injecting more anesthetic at points as she did so. Finally, a two-inch incision was made at the base of the sac and the right ball and its tubule connections were brought out for surgery.

“I’ve exposed the right testicle now. Do you feel any pain?” she asked.

“No, Mistress,” the slave answered.

The veterinarian now began the procedure in earnest as Mistress Claire looked on in pride and amazement. The Surgical Mistress described only the highlights of the operation to the subject, not wishing to cause undue concern.

The surgery, which took 1-1/2 hours, was far more complex than Claire had imagined. However, she was grateful that the woman she had selected to neuter her pet worked so carefully and methodically, with comfort and safety foremost in her mind.

First, the right testicle was squeezed out through the incision, still attached by vessels and tubes at the base and a ligament that had to be broken down to exteriorize the ball completely. The fat around the spermatic cord was then carefully scraped with the scalpel to allow for tying off and suturing.

Next, the spermatic cord was clamped and sutured both above and below the pinched off portion to prevent bleeding when the cord was cut. Finally, the cord was severed and the first testicle fully removed. The end of the cord was then checked for bleeding and, when the Mistress was satisfied all was well, it was released back into the scrotal sac.

The process was then repeated on the other testicle and the sac sutured.

The neutering concluded, the Mistress released the slave from the table and Claire handed him a pair of white cotton panties to wear for the night.

She then led the slave down the stairs to the basement dog kennel and opened one of the cages. “Get in. We’ll come for you in the morning so the veterinarian can check that everything is all right. Then we’ll go home.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” the slave said to Claire, and then, turning toward the other lady, said, “Thank you as well.”

“It was my pleasure,” she answered. “Rest now. You must be tired. I’ll check you tomorrow for signs of swelling or infection, but I don’t expect any problems. It all went very well. I’m sure this is something you’ve secretly longed for. You should be grateful to your Mistresses for giving you your wish.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the slave replied, again giving the only response allowed but not entirely certain that the Mistress was wrong in her assumption.

As the slave rested in the cage, feeling mild twinges and “phantom” pain in the balls that now resided in a new home, the two women spent the night in each other’s passionate embrace. Their ardor was fueled by basic Lesbian attraction and sexual excitement heightened by the pet’s neutering.

story text

“Made to Maid” by Anonymous (excerpt)

What‘s wrong Marissa? Did you fall and hurt yourself princess? she asked in a concerned voice.

Still weeping, it took me a few seconds to respond: “No” was all I could get out.

Well, what is it then young lady!? You have breakfast to fix!” she said with her hands on her hips.

“I… I… I can’t… sniff… sniff… take it anymore Mary… please help me, I don’t want to be a girl anymore. I’m not a girl” I blurted out, appealing to her humanity.

Well I Never!” she steamed out angrily, bending down to me. My head was yanked backwards and then she slapped my face hard several times as she pulled me up by my hair.

“You ungrateful child!” she slapped me again, then sat on the bed, pulling me across her lap. “If you want to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about my little prissy girl” I tried to get up but she had me pinned by keeping my arm twisted high up on my back.

“And stop your damn fidgeting girl, you’re only making me madder!” she ordered as she began spanking my bare bottom.

“After all I’ve done for you, training you, giving you beautiful clothes, and this wonderful home to live in… This is how you repay me?!!!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“I’m sorry Ma’am,” I screamed through my tears, wanting her to stop as she was really making my bottom sting and burn.

“You know Marissa, I think I’m just going to have to call my doctor friend in the city and schedule your castration for next week.”

“WHAT! NO!” I screamed inside my head.

“NO! WAIT! Please! You don’t have to that. Ma’am, I promise I’ll be good!” I pleaded.

“Too late, young lady, it’ll be for your own good. Those things are obviously inspiring you to be cranky, besides, you already had an appointment to have them off in February, so all I’m doing is moving up the time table a bit. You’ll thank me for it one day, you’ll see.” She finally had stopped hitting me, and was softly caressing my red bottom.

“Now get your pretty self dressed and go get breakfast started for us” she said gently as she released me.

I simply stood there weeping softly as she left my room, shutting the door behind her. Stunned, I lost all hope. It was all over for me. My life was truly fucked. I had to block it all out or I’d go crazy. I couldn’t though. My knees went weak as I thought about being castrated.

Turning back towards the dress I began to cry again. Not wanting to get walloped again, I threw myself face down against my bed to muffle my cries. I screamed into the pillow, knowing I had to get dressed now or face another spanking or worse. Reluctantly, I dragged myself up and put my panties on. Once I had the bra, stockings and garter belt on, I stepped into the petticoat. Pulling it up to my waist, I not only felt but really KNEW I was defeated.

Quickly, I took the dress off the hanger and stepped into it as well, not wanting to see myself in the petticoat. Zipping it up in the back, it fit snugly across my chest and breasts. I bent down to put my pumps on and had a great deal of trouble doing it as the skirt was so full and flounced out by the frothy petticoats.

Finally dressed, I sat at the vanity to put my makeup on. I felt like vomiting and nearly did as I looked at the little girl in the mirror. The satin dress, with its puffy princess sleeves, ruffled hem, bows and ribbons was more suitable as a 3-year-old’s Easter dress.

How was I ever going to deal with this?

Finished with my makeup and jewelry, I got up to leave the room. I almost forgot the pink bonnet and small white lace apron on the bed, but I quickly put those on and went downstairs. The house was quite still as I went about preparing breakfast for my captors. I hated myself for being so submissive. I was actually doing my best to make a good breakfast as the little domestic maid for the man that had ejaculated all over my face last night and for the woman who planned to have me castrated.

Dressed as I was, I was not exactly looking forward to seeing, let alone serving them, this morning.

Mary came down first, just as I was wrapping their bacon in paper towels to dry off.

“The bacon smells wonderful Marissa,” she said, acting as if nothing unusual was going on, “I hope you made mine nice and crisp like I like it.”

“Yes Ma’am,” I answered, wishing to yell at her instead.

Jim then came into the kitchen and took his seat at the table. I was expected to offer him coffee each morning without delay and knew I had to attend to this duty again.

Quickly stepping over to him in my little girl dress, I kept my head down in shame. “May I offer you some coffee, sir?” I asked daintily and ashamed.

He paused for what seemed like an eternity and probably just to rub in the humiliation of having to serve him like this after last night.

“Ahh, yah Marissa, I’ll take some,” came his reply and I filled his mug.

Somehow, though it was intensely distressing, I made it through breakfast without having a nervous breakdown and was soon at work dusting and cleaning. Every second of the day I felt the shame and embarrassment of my feminization unlike any other day since I’d been kidnapped.

Eventually though, by the following morning, things mellowed out inside my skull and I fell back into my routine.

Part Three

Nothing ‘bad’ had happened for a week now, since that night Jim did his thing and Mary had me wear that little girl dress the next day. I basically settled into a routine of preparing meals, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house each day. Mary mostly picked out standard maid dresses for me. All were very feminine, and some even required wearing a petticoat, though thankfully none were quite as humiliating as the little girl dress.

On the weekends at least, I got to wear ‘regular’ dresses, or skirt and blouse combinations. I still had to serve as their maid on weekends though, and wore one of several feminine aprons over my outfit while working.

Somehow, I survived the week without going to the doctor like Mary threatened. I figured she must have just been trying to scare me into behaving properly. It worked, and thankfully, she didn’t have to carry out her threat.

It was now my fourth week as their maid, and I had just finished cleaning the kitchen up after a Tuesday night dinner. I was exhausted again, as I was every day, after a long day’s worth of chores. Their farmhands may have thought themselves as tough, but let me tell you, my job was no cakewalk and it lasted 14 hours a day, every day, on heels!

As I went to turn out the light, Mary came in the kitchen.

“Marissa sweetie, when you’re done in here, please come upstairs to my room, I need your help, okay doll?” She asked kindly.

“Yes Ma’am”, came my reply, eager as always to keep her pleased with me.

She left the kitchen to return upstairs while I stayed back a few moments to pretend like I was cleaning some more. After just a couple of minutes I hurried upstairs to give her the impression of enthusiasm. Stopping just outside their open door I knocked politely.

“Oh, come in dear” Mary called out to me as I saw her undressing.

I walked in and stood there waiting for her next request, as she stripped to her panties. I had never seen her naked like this before and was a little shocked at the sight.

She must have seen me staring at her gorgeous breasts, as she looked at me and said: “Oh, don’t worry your little head, sweetheart, you’ll soon have breasts like mine, probably even larger.”

She giggled, as she made a motion pretending to inject me in the bottom, reminding me of my estrogen shots.

Mary slipped into a silky nightie then got into her bed.

Leaning up against several pillows, she took out a book and began to read. I could hear the shower running and thus figured Jim was in there.

“Um, excuse me Ma’am, but, what was it I could help you with? I asked politely, not wanting to offend her, but nonetheless was feeling ignored.

The shower stopped as she answered me:

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry Marissa, how rude of me to keep you standing there after such a long day. Here,” she patted the bed at her feet, “come sit down for a second.”

I obeyed her, grateful to get off my aching feet for a few seconds.

I sat at her feet, and still she said nothing. I tried to figure out what to say next without angering her, but came up empty and decided to just wait for her request. I heard the bathroom light get switched off, then Jim walked out and right past me, stark naked. He walked around to his side of the queen sized bed and lay down, picking up a book as well.

This was a little too weird now, sitting here on their bed, waiting to figure out what the hell she wanted.

“Marissa, darling” Mary said as she sat up next to me, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, “I’ve got a very special job for you tonight, dear.”

She stood up and pulled me up by the wrist.

Instead of walking me out of their room as I expected, she started to walk me around the bed. “You’re going to do a very special thing for Jim tonight called a blow job. Do you know what that is honey?” she asked me ever so sweetly as we stopped at Jim’s feet.

“Of course I knew what that was you crazy bitch from hell!” I screamed at her in my head, as my heart starting pounding from my impending doom.

“Ahh, no Ma’am… Ahh, I mean, yes Ma’am, I have heard of it.” What the hell was I saying! I was so nervous and scared I started trembling

“Good, good girl, Marissa,” she cooed, “it really is quite easy. Go ahead and get on the bed for me, and crawl up on your knees between Jim‘s legs.”

What! Now! I wasn’t ready. Oh No! I closed my eyes and forced myself to lift my knee up onto the bed, wanting to avoid angering her, and especially him. He spread his legs for me, and I crawled up right inside his large hairy legs, resting my hands on his thighs, and I began to shake.

I could not believe I was doing this!

His penis was just inches from my face.

“That’s a girl,” came her encouragement, “now just move your head down further and take his penis into your mouth sweetheart,” she ordered gracefully as she pushed my head down.

Helpless to resist her pushing, his penis touched my lips.

My brain screamed, “NO!!”, but I obeyed Mary out of fear and opened my mouth.

His large penis was warm and soft as it slipped into my mouth and my heart sank as I began my first blow job. I didn’t know what to do! I couldn’t go through with this! I knew I couldn’t exactly lift my head up and ask them not to make me do this because she’d be sure to beat the hell out of me. Not that I even had that option as Mary held my head down anyway.

“Ok, Ok,” I thought. I tried to tell myself this wasn’t so bad, this wasn’t so bad, I could do this. After all, he smelt clean and fresh after coming out of the shower.

His cock slowly started to get bigger as Mary forced my head, and thus my mouth, up and down over it. My mouth was soon filled by his hard, thick cock and he placed his hands on top of my head as well. Satisfied her husband could take it from there Mary went back to her side of the bed and resumed reading her book as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

This was getting less comfortable by the second as he took control by pushing down on my head, forcing his stiff cock deeper into my mouth. I felt like my eyes were going to bulge out as he tried to stuff his cock down my throat. I tried to ask him to ease up, but his cock muffled my plea into a frail moan that only seemed to excite him more.

I was utterly powerless now as he fully controlled my head, forcing it to bob up and down over his manhood. Still tucked up kneeling between his legs, I could only lift my hands a little off his thighs. I instinctually spread my fingers apart in a sign of helplessness and distress, but he was unconcerned. My jaws ached as he thrust himself in and out of my lips, his hips moving up and down as he moaned. For some reason I finally noticed my earrings and breasts were bouncing wildly from my facefucking, adding yet another feminizing experience to this nightmare.

Mary interrupted the silence: “Good girl Marissa. You’ve really got him going. Thank you so much for helping me out tonight. See, I don’t like giving Jim blow jobs, and you’re gonna find out why in a few seconds by the looks of things,” she giggled and continued, “that plus he’ll last longer for me when we have sex after you leave. And yes honey, just in case you were wondering, this is going to be one of your regular duties several nights a week from now on.”

“NO!!” I groaned out, though again muffled by his penis stuffed inside my mouth.

At this moment he began cumming without warning, as I felt his cock erupting inside my mouth, his semen splashing against the back of my throat. I gagged violently, but was able to avoid vomiting as he pulled his cockhead back to my lips and ejaculated more. His cum began oozing out between his cock and my lips, running all down my chin.

“Oh, I almost forgot girl,” Mary added as my mouth filled with his warm jism, “Don’t worry about breakfast tomorrow morning, your doctor said no food before your castration.”

She giggled then continued: “But be sure to swallow down his sperm like a good girl, I don’t want to see any mess on my bed.”

With that he pulled his cock out and I closed my lips and turned my head to the side. I couldn’t believe how much he came! I couldn’t believe what she just said! My mouth was so full, I took a big gulp and felt the huge glob slide as it went down into my stomach.

“I guess you can see why I don’t like blowing him now, can’t you girl?” Mary giggled. “He cums so much he makes me, well now, you, gag before you can even swallow it down!”

She pushed my head back down to his sticky coated cock and told me to clean him up. I obeyed and licked him clean for her, feeling a wave of femininity rush all over me. I actually felt like a real girl. It was a very strange sensation but I felt almost proud of being pretty and feminine enough to make him cum like that. This involuntary feeling just popped into my head, and I quickly fought it mentally. I figured it must have been the female hormones kicking in and messing with my brain.

When I regained my thoughts, however, the humiliation of what I just did, and what tomorrow would bring hit me even harder.

Lying there by his softening penis, his taste lingered in my mouth. My heart sank as I remembered who I was and what was happening to me.

As my eyes became teary, Mary quietly helped me up and walked me out of their bedroom. My knees felt so weak I didn’t think I’d make it back to my room but we did.

She helped me undress and get into my gown without saying a word.

I was in a half trance anyway, feeling utterly hopeless and defeated. Lying down onto my bed, I tucked myself into a fetal position and shut my eyes.

Mary stayed in the room though I didn’t pay her much attention. I felt her place soft leather cuffs around my ankles. Gently pulling my arms out, she then placed cuffs on my wrists as well. Easing me onto my back, I began to refocus on what she was doing and started to become alarmed.

She secured my feet within seconds to the foot-post, and I sat up in bed. “What… what are you doing? Why are you tying me like this?” I asked softly.

Her response was to walk back to me and place her left hand on my chest, pushing me back down on the bed. Taking my wrists in her hands, she brought them over my head and up to the center of the headboard. Bending over me, she secured my wrists to the bed. Her nightgown swept across my face as I watched her breasts hidden only partially by the sheer material, come closer and then touch my face as she finished with my wrists.

Finally, she spoke: Wouldn’t want my little girl getting any second thoughts before her big day tomorrow, now would we?” she cooed at me, her breasts in my face.

Standing back up, she patted me on the head and smiled. I shut my eyes in disgust and when I reopened them she had a syringe in her hands, just inches from my shoulder. After a quick swab with an alcohol pad, I felt the sting.

“Sweet dreams princess,” she said, lowering my gown sleeve back down before she walked out of my room.

A few seconds later I awoke, confused and groggy. The light was on in room and Mary was standing over me, unfastening my bonds.

Looking at the clock, it was 4 am already. I figured to myself that the shot must have messed up my sleep and I didn’t even know six hours had passed. My thoughts began to clear as she helped me through my morning routine.

Before I knew it, I was walking with her to car, dressed in a long floral dress.

Stopping at the passenger side, she took me by the shoulders and turned me around so I faced away from her. Even though she hadn’t said anything all morning long about where we were going, I knew what she had planned, though I just couldn’t believe she was actually going to go through with this it was just too far-fetched.

Nonetheless, I was very nervous and it didn’t help when she took my wrists behind me and cuffed them together. After getting me into the car and fastening the seat belt for me, she placed a ball gag into my mouth and secured it with a strap going around my head. I was really getting scared now as she got into the driver’s side and we started off.

It was still dark out and we drove for quite some time. Mary was silent for the 90 minute trip, only the sound of the radio and the car’s engine broke the silence. Despite being very nervous, I shut my eyes and tried to forget what was going on. Soon enough I was able to fall asleep.

The next thing I knew, the car door opened and Mary helped me out. We were inside of some kind of underground garage, and there were only a few other cars parked nearby. Escorting me by the upper arm, Mary and I walked into an elevator and rode to the 2nd floor. Entering into a doctor’s office which read “Judith Loveli, MD, Obstetrics and Gynecology”, I thought it odd that nobody else was around, and that we didn’t have to wait in the lobby.

Walking right through the back door, Mary handed me off to a nurse on the inside part of the office. This nurse was a young and very pretty redhead wearing the typical white nurse’s dress. She introduced herself as Jill, and with a smirk, walked me into a small room where she helped me undress. Her sweet look was deceiving though as she handled me in a domineering fashion and was quite stern. She made it clear who was in charge.

Once I was completely undressed, Jill escorted me into an adjacent room, holding me tightly by the upper arm. As I entered it, with my hands covering my privates, I noticed the room was larger than the first and had another nurse in it. Jill and the second nurse helped me up and onto a table in the center of the room. Sitting down, it was very cold and in reaction, I tried to stand back up. That’s when they got really aggressive with me and pushed me down hard.

The table was so cold I wanted to get up but the second nurse, a more robust middle-aged blond woman, lay across my body and wouldn’t let me up as Jill quickly tightened 2 straps across my body so I couldn’t get up. My wrists and elbows were also secured to the table. This was not good.

My gag was still in, as nobody ever thought to take it out, so all I could do was yell in hopes one of the ladies would care about my distress. After all, they were nurses and tried to help people, right?

Not these two, though, as they simply went about their business.

While getting onto the table I had noticed two stirrups like the ones they have for women’s exam tables, jutting out from the end of the table.

Sure enough, they didn’t waste any time as each nurse quickly and forcefully took one of my legs and placed each heel in a stirrup.

A few seconds later my ankles were bound to the contraption as well. My legs were elevated and spread apart in a very vulnerable position. Coming up to the front of the table, Jill pulled my head back, making me arch my neck, and then secured my head to the table with a strap across my forehead. An IV pole was wheeled over to the table and I felt a sting as she started the IV in my arm. In a few seconds I felt spacey and began falling in and out of sleep.

I remember being washed and the nurses, now gowned and masked, placing towels over me. That’s all I remembered until I woke up again, this time in another room.

It was my room at home. I totally didn’t even remember the trip home. I hated those drugs! As I awoke, I still felt spacey and confused and just wasn’t able to clearly make sense of things. All I knew was that I was in one of my nighties and was lying under the sheets. I felt safe and drifted back to sleep.

Part Four

Well good morning princess, get enough sleep did we? I heard Mary’s voice ask. Opening my eyes, she stood over me with a smile.

“Yes Ma’am”, I answered but this odd, very light high pitched girl’s voice came out instead. That was weird; I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Hhuum, hhuum. Yes Ma’am,” OH NO! I shuddered as I realized that this was my voice.

Sensing my shock, Mary patted me on the head, “oh, don’t worry Marissa, I had the doctor do a little work on your vocal cords so your voice would match up nicely with your personality,” she said with a mischievous smile, “and now that your nasty little things down there are gone, your voice is never going to change! Isn’t that wonderful princess!” she cooed at me, stroking my bangs.

“Now get up and get dressed young lady, breakfast isn’t going to make itself!” my employer’ said with her hands on her hips.

Once she left the room, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I really didn’t want to confirm what I already knew but curiosity got the best of me. When I pulled my panties down and sat on the toilet, I reached down to touch myself. My scrotum had never been large but now it was clearly empty. I could see two small incisions but there weren’t even any stitches. My scrotum was now just loose skin. I’d never be able to be a father.


I’d never grow into a man.


I broke down and wept at my loss, and at my fate. I was destined now to stay small and feminine. The only remaining masculinity I had was my little penis which would never even get hard anymore.

Following a good cry, I gathered myself up, knowing I better not disappoint Mary. In 20 minutes I was in the kitchen, preparing their breakfast, wearing of course, one of my maid dresses and an apron. This was my fate now to cook and clean and take care of Mary and Jim. This was all my life was worth now. I didn’t even think of escaping anymore I no longer had a place in the outside world.

Mary and Jim came and enjoyed the breakfast I made for them, then went about their day. I too tended to my duties, and like usual, had plenty of time to think while I dusted and polished. The way I figured it, either I accepted my life or I’d go crazy. If I went crazy, either nothing would change or they’d just get rid of me. And I knew ‘getting rid of’ did not mean being fired. Basically I could die or be their maid, and though I hated thinking about it, Jim’s blow job girl as well.

Even though my life was not what I had planned, and was very humiliating, I chose to accept it. And with that admission to myself, I began to feel better about myself. It was like a strange peace came over me. I just let the humiliation of being feminized into a submissive maid go.

That evening, as I knelt between Jim’s thighs with his cock between my lips for the second time, I tried to focus my mind on accepting myself as Marissa. I knew I’d be doing this over and over, so I had to find a way to alleviate the humiliation. The answer was in accepting myself as Marissa. I was no longer Mark in a dress, or Mark forced to be Marissa.

I was Marissa and I had important duties in this house. I was pretty, and sweet, and both Mary and Jim appreciated me. This is what was going through my mind as Jim moaned and began ejaculating inside my mouth.

I shut my eyes, and swallowed dutifully for him, feeling proud that I was pretty enough for him to enjoy my blow job so much. I was glad Mary turned me into Marissa. I was so much more cherished as Marissa than I ever was as the little nerd and wimp I once was. Jim and Mary gave purpose and meaning to my life, and I was grateful.

story text

“A Chance Meeting” By Abelard (edited)

Summary: A chance meeting by the roadside leads to a change of status

It was a wonderful sunny day in June, I travel for a living and I am always on the road, so all I had in front of me was a dreary hotel. Sometimes I have tried the local papers and found a little domination action, but that day I was right in the middle of nowhere. Then I saw Felicity Lawson by the side of the road next to her broken-down pick-up truck.

I pulled over of course to see if I could help and it turned out that she was a vet on the way to visit a remote farm. I had nothing better to do so offered her a lift which she gratefully accepted. She was a well-built woman I estimated in her early forties but wearing well, not pretty but certainly handsome and very direct.

We started chatting and I told her about my fairly boring existence. I then asked her what she was going to do at the farm. “Oh it’s Sarah Fisher’s farm, she breeds Arab horses and I’m going to geld one of her colts, I’m sure Sarah wouldn’t mind if you want to help out, she doesn’t have any hands on the farm at the moment, it’s too far-out no one ever wants to stay.” I cannot remember what I replied, I was astonished at the matter-of-fact way she said it, but also remember being astonished at my reaction which was one of acute interest. During domination roleplay I had sometimes introduced castration as a theme and it certainly turned me on. I think I just laughed and said “sounds interesting, don’t mind watching but I wouldn’t want to get too involved.” She just laughed and said, “you never know, you might enjoy yourself”.

Felicity certainly wasn’t joking about the farm being remote, it took some time to get there and when we finally pulled up we were greeted by a strikingly pretty, petite young woman who introduced herself as Sarah. Felicity greeted her like an old friend. “I broke down on the way and this kind man has given me a lift. I’ve got all my stuff, where’s the colt?” Sarah led us into the barn which was divided up into stalls but with just one occupied by a small bay colt.

The women seemed to know what do, clearly they had done this together before. Sarah went to the colt’s head and began speaking quietly to him while Felicity put on a white coat and brought a bag of tricks into the stall. I was fascinated by what was going to happen and the women didn’t seem to mind me being present. Felicity stood close behind the colt and she began to massage his testicles. Although he was nervous at first, he soon settled down and Sarah continued talking to him and encouraging him. It all seemed to work because he obtained a massive erection. Felicity then very carefully injected his testicles one by one massaging them the whole time, so that he barely seemed to notice the brief moment of pain of the injection. When she was satisfied that the injections had taken effect she produced a scalpel and incised each side of his sac and with amazing swiftness tied off his cords and cut out the testicles placing them carefully into a stainless-steel dish. She then sewed him up. All this time Sarah had been talking quietly to encourage him, “there’s a good boy, there’s a brave boy, that’s my boy, good fella, you know it’s for the best, good little man.” By the time it was all finished I could see that both women were flushed and excited and I had a tremendous hard on.

Felicity noticed my condition and said, “well I can see you’re interested, how would you like your turn now?At this, Sarah came round from the colt’s head, clearly highly excited and put a halter around my neck, she said, “come-on, there’s a good boy, you know you want to.” I was very excited at the whole thing and have to say that I thought a little fun with the two women would certainly liven up the day.

Sarah led me to a different stall and began undressing me and herself. Then Felicity came up with a gadget she described as a banding clamp, she said “don’t worry, let’s play for a bit, I have always wanted to put one of these on a man, I’ll use a rubber ring for a pig so it won’t do any damage to your little balls.” It may not have done much damage but it sure hurt like hell, but Sarah’s actions, now totally naked, soon got my erection back near to its former glory as she got down on all fours before me and said “come on then stallion, cover me”. I was only too willing to oblige and although the band was giving me some pain I humped into her for what seemed like ages. The pain from the band seemed to allow me go on and on without coming.

I became aware that Felicity was behind me and that she had also taken her clothes off and was massaging my testicles as I humped into Sarah. Finally Sarah disengaged from underneath me and lay down face-up to me and told me to stay kneeling on all fours. She began playing with my dick and said, “why don’t you inject him now Felicity, I think he’s ready, then you can take the band off and really go to work.” She was fondling my dick and looked so wonderful that it was soon rock hard again. I hardly felt the injections at all, as I still had the band on, but straight afterwards Felicity cut the band off. The relief was enormous, I lost all sense of where I was, mesmerized by the actions of the two women. I realized I had been injected with an anesthetic and all that that meant, but I just couldn’t resist Sarah underneath me. All the while she was saying to me in that lovely soft voice that she had used for the colt and that you just had to trust, “that’s a good boy, that’s my brave boy, what a good fella, you know it’s for the best, you know you need this, that’s my good boy.” So great was the pleasure and the anticipation that I was only vaguely aware of what Felicity was doing behind me, doing things with my sac, until I finally came in a great spurt all over Sarah’s breasts and face. I knew that Felicity had gelded me too and taken my manhood once and for all, my emotions were in a turmoil, but somehow I felt that this was so right and so beautiful and I was glad that they had gelded me. There could be no going back now.

That was six months ago, I have been kept on at the farm. I am now the gelded help that Sarah always needed. Felicity calls round frequently, she and Sarah are more than just good friends. They like to let me watch, of course it doesn’t do anything for me now I’m a gelding like the colt. I have to serve my mistress in other ways and try to remember what it was like when I was a man and not a gelded eunuch. So you see I was changed by a chance meeting.