story text

Doctor Ashley’s Tools

[ Warning: This story contains a castration table upon which crying “ist verboten, mein liebchen”! ]

Dr. Ashley is a confident, warm and gracious young woman and soon puts me at my ease. We have a lovely supper together at a nice restaurant and then agree to meet again the next morning.

On the next morning she gives me a tour of her clinic and introduces me to some of her co-workers and colleagues and some of them give me knowing nods and winks.

We then part and agree to meet again later in the early evening. She takes me to her modest little private office suite located in a boring little professional office park. She leads me into the exam room in the back and turns on the lights.

“This is where I do it,” she says brightly. She draws me attention to her tools laid out neatly on a small table beside the exam table (AKA THE CASTRATION TABLE!!!) She does a little-show-and-tell picking up each tool in turn. The scalpel itself is still in its sterile paper wrapper. She removes her coat, takes out a pair of disposable latex gloves from a drawer and turns to look at me while she calmly proceeds to pull them on.

“Ok, why don’t you slip off your pants?” she says.

I knew this was coming but I still can’t handle it. I choke and gasp and stammer, trying to find the right words to cope. She just quietly stands gazing at me, waiting. My face flushes hot, I can’t look at her, instead I lower my eyes and start fumbling with undoing my pants.

Soon I am properly disrobed. As I climb onto the table she laughs quietly and says, “I knew you would want to see my tools.”

I cry and whimper like a little slut as she works on me. She replies firmly, telling me to relax, it’s OK and she describes and explains each step as she carries it out.

I come back a week later for my follow-up. I thank her for helping fulfill a lifelong dream.

Every year on the anniversary of my castration I send her a little gift and she responds with a little thank-you card. Otherwise I have not attempted to keep in contact.

Looking back now I can’t help thinking about who she might be castrating today.

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