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WhiteRabbit – “Calming Therapy 2 – The Calming of Richard”

Dr. Bernice lovingly administers her therapy to her troubled ex-husband.


“Hello, Bernice.”

“Richard! What are you doing here?!”

“It’s a bit of a story. Got some time?”

Dr. Bernice looked at her schedule, and sure enough it read “New referral appt: R. Blair.” She had not expected it to be her ex-husband.

“Yes, yes. Come back to the office.”

A few minutes later they were facing each other across Dr. Bernice’s desk.

“So, Bernice… what have you been up to? I see that you have your own practice now; I thought you were working with the Center for Compassionate Adjustment.”

“I still do from time to time. I left on good terms to start my own practice, and we refer clients to each other occasionally.”

Richard nodded. “I suppose that you are surprised to see me.”

“Yes, that would certainly be true. Um… why exactly are you here?”

“The truth is… the truth is that I think I need some help. Bad. You remember my moods?”

“Yes, I certainly do,” Dr. Bernice said dryly. “Your ‘moodiness’ got us thrown out of several apartments and almost cost me my career after you started showing up drun—“

“I know, I know. And you remember I really tried to straighten up, both before and after you left. Group therapy, solo sessions, drugs, and of course enough self-medication to put me into several rehab programs. And I’ve still never managed to hang onto a job or a relationship for very long. Now I’m starting to have problems with the law. I finally ended up at the Center with another therapist. They were nice enough, but in the end he suggested coming here, so here I am.”

“Richard—you know that I can’t have therapy sessions with you. You’re my ex-husband, so it would be unethical. Not to mention my own feelings, which I assure you are still conflicted, even after all this time.”

“Bernice, I’ve tried everything else that I can think of. I know you are really good. Most of all, I trust you more than most people… you are the only one who I would do this with.”


“Yes, you. I’ve heard a bit about the special treatment you offer and I know it’s pretty harsh, but I’ve run out of options..”

“Do you know what it entails?

“I have a pretty good idea. I’ve had some samples frozen, just in case.”

Bernice was silent for a time, weighing the options. On the one hand, she felt that she shouldn’t, because of the multitude of ethical and personal issues. But she also knew that Richard truly needed help. From her past experience with him, and from the referral file that she was now leafing through, she could see that it was only a matter of time until something very bad happened, with Richard being either the perpetrator or the victim. The legal section of the file contained several suspended sentences and probation records, while the medical records noted both erectile issues and elevated PSA levels. And she sincerely doubted he would let anybody else carry out the type of treatment she was sure he needed so badly.

Bernice stood up. “Lets give it two weeks. If you still feel the same way then, we can start to discuss some treatment options.”

“Thanks, Bernice.”

* * *

It was a Saturday morning a few weeks later at Doctor Bernice’s office. The place was deserted except for two people in the examination room, one of whom was nude and leaning on his elbows over an examination table, while the other was carefully placing needles.

“Okay, Richard—I’m nearly done. I’ve run serum tubes to both testicles. I’m now inserting the last one through your perenium into the prostate. That will probably hurt a little, but I’ve numbed it at best as I can. Are you sure that this is what you want?”


“Then I guess it’s time to start the preliminary serum flow. Be careful—some patients report dizziness when it first enters their system.”

Dr. Bernice paused with her hand over the button that would start the serum pump. She had mostly put her personal feelings aside so far, but this was it—pressing the button would begin the unmanning of her ex-husband. She knew intellectually that over the long haul he would probably be much happier, better adjusted, and healthier. But emotionally…

“What are you waiting for, Bernice?”

With a sigh, she pushed the button.

“So… exactly how does all this work?”

Dr. Bernice suspected that he asked the question more to distract her than because a lack of understanding, but she was grateful for the diversion nonetheless. “Well, as I mentioned earlier, there are two parts to the process. The first part of the treatment, which I just started, is the “pre-serum.” It is a cocktail consisting of a strong vasodilator, an anticoagulant, a muscle relaxant, and a light analgesic. The first two parts open the blood vessels up fully and make sure no blood clots form. The other components are to make sure the patient is relaxed and comfortable.”

“After a while, though, the main serum starts to flow. The serum does most of the real work of the treatment. It is derived from proteins found in certain reptiles and polymerizes the glandular tissues it touches, but nothing else. It also breaks down in the body so rapidly that it doesn’t spread or cause complications. When the process has fully run its course, the man’s urine and any remaining semen will be pink.”

“What’s with the three tubes?”

“Originally there were only two, one for each testicle. However, sometimes I add a third to include the prostate in the treatment, especially if there is any indication that it could be a problem area. Treating the prostate also provides a cushion in case, um…”

“In case a man’s balls manage to survive?” Richard asked gruffly.

“Um, yes.”

“How can you tell when the pre-show is over and the main event starts?”

“Um, well, most patients report a feeling of cold, and then warmth, in their scrotu… um, sac.”

“I just felt that, so I guess it’s really started.”


Dr. Bernice watched the slow but steady drip of fluid, with each drop removing a tiny amount of Richard’s troubled manhood. The pre-serum had opened the testicular blood vessels up, allowing his testicles to fully accept the drug which now bathing them. She looked at his smooth pink scrotum, so large and soft and vulnerable. Reaching out, she cupped it in her hands and felt the warmth as her serum silently began to ravage the oversized but defenseless balls inside…what Richard used to call his “babymakers.”

“What are you doing…?”

“Shhh… just relax. I have to make sure that the serum has completely spread throughout the tissues.” Dr. Bernice began to gently roll and caress his testicles.

“Are you sure you need to… uh!” Richard let out an exclamation as his ex-wife surprised him by sliding his penis into her mouth. Dr. Bernice continued to fondle his testicles with one hand, while she unbuttoned her blouse with the other. Now she was naked from the waist up, exposing a pair of heavy, mature breasts that she normally hid from the public beneath conservative clothing. Indeed, they jiggled and swayed softly as she gently but insistently sucked on Richard’s penis and slowly massaged his sweet, dying balls.

Richard and Dr. Bernice both knew that her ministrations, especially of his testicles, were accelerating the quiet destruction going on in his sac, but he would not—could not–have stopped her actions for anything. Instead, he merely gripped the table so hard that it creaked as the sensations washed over him: he was looking down as a an attractive topless 40-year-woman with long dark hair and huge pale breasts sucked him and fondled him while her concoction slowly cooked his balls and prostate. Indeed, the thought of his strong, busty, and articulate ex-wife gently and permanently unmanning him, even as she slowly and lovingly pleasured him with fingers, lips, and tongue, was proving to be too much; he could feel the pressure slowly building, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of… of… surrender? passion? orgasm? Whatever it was it was starting to bubble up and…

“Oh!” Dr. Bernice pulled back slightly and continued her soft handwork on his smooth cock and balls as he began to ejaculate. Now it was Richard who spoke: “Oh, Bernice!…that feels sooo good…. please don’t stop. Oh honey… Ohhhh… Ohhhhhhhh….” Dr. Bernice smiled tenderly as Richard gasped and spurted, covering her soft, full breasts with pink cum in her ex-husband’s final act of love as a full man.

Both of them remembered the morning vividly for quite some time afterward. In later weeks, as Richard’s dangerous passions faded in the wake of his calming, their shared morning of unconventional love helped them rekindle a friendship that both had thought lost during the course of their short and unhappy marriage.

* * *

Sometime later Dr. Bernice was discussing her feelings about Richard’s castration with her lover and confidante, George. Like most of her lovers, George was a bit nervous and high-strung. Tonight, however, he listened intently as she told the story, though as she came to the end his initial comment was rather difficult to interpret:


Actually, it was more of a moan combined with sigh, rather than a clear statement. The doctor suspected that George’s situation may have had something to do with this; during most of the tale he had been kneeling on the bed naked, rear-end in the air, with Dr. Bernice reaching deep inside of him and gently massaging his prostate. She herself wore only a pair of black-high stockings and heels as her finger simultaneously soothed and stimulated George. Now, as she reached the end at the end of the story, George began to orgasm violently, spurting long, gooey ropes of cum again and again as she rhythmically stroked his testicles and penis with her free hand.

“Oh Georgie… I see you liked the story…It seems to have made you so excited…That’s it, sweetie… let it all out… that’s it…. that’s a good boy… just let all of that sweet boy-milk out…don’t hold it in… let it go… that’s it, sweetie… empty those big sweet balls for me, honey… good… good….Shhh… just rest now, sweetie…let me hold you in my mouth as you get soft… mmm….”

After a short clean-up, Dr. Bernice’s boyfriend lay beside her while she gently stroked his hair. George always produced a lot of cum, but tonight it seemed to go on even longer than usual. As she watched him doze, Dr. Bernice wondered if, or rather when, George would request the calming serum for himself. He was openly fascinated by the process, and for some reason it seemed that sooner or later most of her lovers desired it. Her serum therapy allowed their nervousness to be almost literally drained away, much as Richard’s dangerous chronic anger had been. She sighed and snuggled up next to George and began to drift off herself as she imagining what it would be like to feel George quivering against her…hearing him moaning softly… her whispering soft encouragements…seeing his huge final load of warm pink semen pumping into her loving, waiting, hands… tenderly relieving him of his anxiety and his manhood at the same time…

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WhiteRabbit – “Calming Therapy 1 – The Calming of Steven”

Steve undergoes treatment for his anxiety problem, under the caring hands of Dr. Bernice


“That’s it, Steven. Just relax. Your scrotum should be mostly numb now. Just nod for me if it is.”

Steven nodded slightly. He was naked with a newly-smooth scrotum, with small tubes leading into the underside of his sac. His limbs felt heavy, partly because of the muscle relaxants and partly from all of the anti-anxiety drugs in his system. But soon he hoped he would be able to get rid of the latter, because today he was in the process of undergoing calming therapy with Dr. Bernice.

“That’s good … Just hold your legs in that position as while I finish positioning the tubes.” Steven did as he was told. He enjoyed feeling Dr. Bernice’s almost motherly touch, and her kneeling position allowed him a rare view of the valley between her sizable breasts. He hoped that she attributed his partial arousal to the touching, rather than to anything else.

Dr. Bernice stood up, ending his pleasant view. “Okay … we are almost ready to start. Are you sure you are ready?”

“I’m sure, Dr. Bernice.”

“Okay, then we’ll start the procedure now. The needles into the blood vessels that carry the blood to your testicles are in place. I’ll start the serum flow now.” Dr. Bernice reached around Steven and opened a valve. He could smell her perfume as she was near him. He liked it—it made him thing of magnolias and spice–and had come to find it soothing. He also liked the sound of her voice, which he found warm and reassuring in its own right. Indeed, he had liked everything about the doctor ever since he had had his first session at the Center for Compassionate Adjustment some months prior, when he had come looking for a treatment for his chronic nervousness and anxiety. He had come to the Center because he had heard that it offered non-traditional treatments and procedures for people who either had not responded to, or simply did not like, talk therapies and drugs. Many patients liked the touch and bodywork therapies the Center offered, which Steven liked, but mostly he had stayed because of his liking (perhaps almost a secret crush?) on his therapist.

“Now, Steven, here comes the first part of the treatment. Your testicles may tingle a little at first, but don’t worry—I’m right here to make sure that everything is all right.

Indeed, his balls were starting to tingle a bit; his breath drew in. The room also swam a little. .

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yes…just a little dizzy, I guess.”

“Don’t worry—it’ll all be over before too much longer.” Dr. Bernice stepped closer, and put an arm around him to steady him. “The preliminary serum is starting now, and the main part of the treatment will begin soon.”

Dr. Bernice felt Steven begin to relax against her. This gave her a warm feeling; she truly enjoyed helping her male patients become … how to put it?… calmer, more gentle, and more focused. The world had too many cocky loose cannons wandering around causing trouble at home and abroad; this was her small way of helping the problem, while also helping patients gain control of their feelings of stress and anxiety. And, truth be told, she received a certain thrill out of the process, though she rarely admitted it to herself; she helped patients choose between virile unhappiness and… A chime interrupted her thoughts.

“Okay, Steven. The second portion of the serum is starting to flow. What do you feel?”

“I feel like something cool is entering my balls.”

“Good. Just relax…I think you may find it soothing. And they will warm up soon, as the serum begins to work.”

Indeed, he did… though being so close to his favorite doctor was helping too. “Dr. Bernice…”

“Yes, Steven?”

“Do you like doing this? I mean, you really seem to … well…”

“Enjoy my work? Yes, I do. I like helping men such as yourself become less anxious and worried.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bernice. I’ve really enjoyed our sessions together.”

“Why thank you, Steven. I’ve enjoyed them, too. Hmm, let me check your tubes. No, don’t pull back… I can feel them. Yes… here, let me make sure that the serum is getting everywhere it should be…”

The doctor gently kneaded Steven’s smooth scrotum, noting that his already sizable testicles were warm and slightly swollen. “Does that hurt, Steven?”

“No, Doctor…

“Yes, Steven?”

“Please…It feels good.”

“Would you like me to keep doing it?”

His only reply was to nod and to lean into Dr. Bernice more.

The serum was dripping steadily now. The doctor imagined how each successive drop was permanently quieting a bit of the tissue making Steve unhappy and motivating men in general to do foolish things. Her serum was now working on a the man who she now literally held within her arms, his chest pressing against her breasts and his head resting lightly on her shoulder…the same sweet young man whose large, soft testicles she now held in her hand, even as her fluid silently deballed him.

The doctor’s kneading became more caressing, and she was using both hands now. With one hand she fondled his large, doomed balls, which both comforted Steve while also making sure the drug worked its way all through them. With her other she gently stroked his penis, which was gradually becoming more and more erect from her attention. “Shhh…. yes, that’s it. Just relax. Let the serum do its work. Shhh…Do your balls feel nice and warm now? Good…That means its working…Goodness, you’re getting big… Shhh.”

Dr. Bernice continued to gently work her patient’s cock and balls. His penis was quite firm now, and his breathing was becoming ragged.

“That’s it, Stevie… just relax. I see your pre-cum is starting… it looks a little pink… that’s good… it means the serum is doing its job. Shhhh… Yes… yes… you can give it me. Just relax…I promise it won’t hurt… you can spurt in my hands if you need to… I don’t mind. That’s it…just come into my hands. That’s a good boy… yes, it’s okay… Just let it go… So hard and firm…yes…Shhh…here it comes… oh! yes, it’s starting now…out with it …out with it… yes, let it all go…yes… yes… that’s good…let it all come out… yes… is that all? You’ve given it all to me? Okay… good… all done…

Steven and the doctor were both sweating as his spasms ceased. “Shhh…it’s okay…just catch your breath. Is everything okay now, Stevie?”

“Yes Doctor… and I think a little better already!”

“Yes, Steven, I’m sure you do.” The doctor looked at her hand, which held a good amount of pink-tinged semen. “The pink flow shows that the treatment is done; the serum has spread through your testicles and permanently denatured them. And”—she smiled—“I think we have also just helped to rebalance your hormone levels a little.”

Dr. Bernice moved to the sink and began to wash her hands. Fondly she watched Steve’s final offering slide off her hands and down the drain, taking his anxiety problems and fears of responsibility with it. Nearby stood her patient, grateful for having been calmed by, and in, her hands. Further readjustment sessions began to take shape in her imagination…

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“The Ballotine” by Gone

I can trace my obsession with castration to when I was a teenager. In reality, I would not really like to lose my balls; just fantasize about it. This story is fiction laced with reality and the two intertwine and overlap!


In high school I fell in “lust” with a gorgeous Mulatto girl who happened to be engaged to a college student a few years older than me. I was about 17 at the time. When he realized that I was attracted to his fiancé, he teasingly asked me, “Would you like to be castrated?”

Not knowing what that was, I went home and looked it up. At first I was horrified. Over time, however, I began to harbor fantasies of being castrated by these two. They would lure me into their van, have me bend over a bench, drop my pants and underwear, band my balls and ask me if I had any final wishes before I lost them. I would ask them to allow me to cum one last time before they nutted me and they would consent, but with the stipulation being that I had to jerk off myself in front of them and then when I was ready to cum, I had to say “okay,” so that I was agreeing to my emasculation and that they they could claim that I had asked for it. While I feverishly jerked off, they would hold a large hunting knife to my banded ball bag which, in the fantasy, always heightened my pleasures. And when I was finished squirting my last drop of sperm, I’d say “Okay.” In the fantasy, though, whenever I gave my consent, they would announce that I was going to be able to keep them this time, to my great relief. but in my embarrassment and humiliation, I had to agree to let them do this to me again. Over time, I began to look forward to the next occasion when the guy would ask, “Are you ready to be castrated.”

As the years wore on, this fantasy became worn out and I went on to dreaming up various other ways to get off while fantasizing about having them cut off. In reality, I don’t really want to lose them, but in fantasy, I can’t seem to cum at all without thinking that once I’m finished with my “last cum” off the gonads go! I can’t remember a time when I climaxed without dreaming that “this was it,” and I would lose them. Even the words “castration” and “cut off” are arousing to me. I’m a straight guy but I can’t get this out of my mind! The finality of giving them up following my last climax is powerfully stimulating and captivating.

I have dreamed up some hot fantasies over the years for how I’d like to be castrated. In one hot scene, I imagine that I’m standing in a long line of naked guys each awaiting their turn under the knife. We have all been sentenced to mass castration. Prior to the knife line, we are all lightly sedated. Our pubic hair is shaved and we have been administered enemas because the cutters don’t want us crapping on them when our balls are cut off, on the premise that when the body experiences severe trauma, it “blows its ballast” so to speak. We are allowed enough time to jerk off one last time. Some of the guys decline out of fear. Others are rock hard. I choose to do myself one last time because I realize that this cum must be memorable because it’s my last. Seeing the other guys in there doing themselves is a turn on for me like I can’t describe. Once we shoot, we’re banded and given numbers and pointed to the line. When it’s my turn under the knife, I’m hoisted onto a stainless steel table by naked eunuchs wielding knives. As I’m prepped, I look down into a large bucket where the balls of the castrated guys drop when they are nutted. To my horror, I see a couple of cocks in there as well. We’re all deballed without drugs or anesthesia–just the mild sedative. When the swift procedure is complete, we’re wheeled into a recovery room where we begin to contemplate our lives a eunuchs. Before long, I am assigned to do the castrations and I tell the soon-to-be eunuchs to enjoy their balls one last time because they must bask in the afterglow of their last orgasm for the rest of their lives!

In another hot fantasy, I imagine that I’m going to be cut on a stage during a public castration show. The naked audience is made up of both men and women who have paid a premium price for admission. When my balls are chopped off the audience “gets off.” I’m not forced to giving them up-I do it willingly. And the humiliation I endure prior to the emasculation is part of the thrill. The cutter has me on a table with my crotch facing the audience. My pubic hair is shaved and my ball bag banded. The cutter asks me how I want my last cum. I tell him (sometimes it’s a her) that I want to be jerked off but with a finger inserted into my anus stimulating my prostate. Sometimes in the fantasy I get off immediately and I’m castrated as quickly. Other times I’m allowed enduring penal and anal pleasure as I enjoy my last orgasm. A man is never so naked as when his legs are spread before others, his nut sack is banded with a sharp knife at the ready, and his anus is exposed for everyone to see. Comments from the audience about my nakedness and pending castration heighten the experience for me and I shoot my cum all over my belly. It is then that the knife begins to slowly saw through my scrotum and my ball bag drops into a bowl. My severed gonads are shown to an audience shrieking in delight, and as I gaze at them held up in the cutter’s hands, I spurt one last drop of cum out the tip of my penis!

I have fantasized about involuntary castration, mass castration, mutual castration with another guy where we consent to take each other’s balls in a “one last time” agreed upon nutting, and losing my balls in a bet to a street gang armed with switch blades. The only request I ever have in each fantasy prior to castration is to cum one last time. In my fantasies, sometimes the cutter allows me to; sometimes they don’t. Premature castration prior to climax is sometimes as thrilling because I’m left forever with the frustration of desiring the orgasm I’ll never have. One day at work we made a customer mad because we didn’t get his order right and he threatened to cut my balls off. I can’t describe the thrill that threat gave me!

I spent many years worrying about what this castration obsession meant until I found the EA. There I read with fascination the stories and posts about others’ desires about castration and I was able to now put my obsession in a more balanced perspective. Reading about guys who went “all the way” powerfully aroused me! I mean, guys who had the balls to lose their balls were to be admired.

Once I got married, it was a few years before I could fully express to my wife how my castration fantasy helped arouse me and get me off, but I finally was able to bring her up to speed.

She acted horrified at first, but then got right into the castration play after awhile. Most of the time I initiate the castration talk with such questions as, “Is this the night it’s going to happen?” On other delightful occasions, she initiates the fantasy to my great arousal. Once when my balls were banded and she was being really frisky and vicious with them, she announced, “I could cut your testicles off right now!” Flipping the banded ball bag up and down, she observed, “They would be easy to cut off at this point.” I begged her to let me cum one last time before she sliced them off and she fiendishly said, “Maybe not!” The powerful thought that I wouldn’t be allowed to cum my last orgasm forced me to shoot my load in a stream that even amazed her! I have asked her to hold a knife to my tightly banded nut sack and she complies. Other times, she will get the knife and tease me with losing my balls. She started making a sawing motion with the knife while I jerked off in front of her. The dangerous thrill of castration play excites us both.

Once I was on all fours with my butt facing her. She was tugging at my nut sack stretching it as far as she could. It felt as though they would come right off in her hand and I told her so. She said, “That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to pull them off.” I asked her what she would do with them if she accidentally harvested them like that. She answered, “First of all, it wouldn’t be an accident, and once they came off in my hand, I would slide one into your anus and the other one up mine. Then we’d squeeze them ’til you came one last time.” When she said that, I shot my load all over the bed it was so hot! During these play times, I have begged her to pull them off and stuff them up my butt. She asked how we would do it, and as she pulled, I told her she should take the knife, slice open my scrotum, dangle my nuts on the sperm cords for a few seconds and then slip them into my anus. Having to give her instructions as to my castration is powerfully exciting!

I confessed to her that I have another fantasy that she’s my lover. We have hot sex and she informs me that all her previous underperforming lovers have been castrated and she keeps their severed balls in a jar by the bed. Sure enough, I look over at the nightstand and there are masculine orbs from anonymous lovers floating in the jar! She informs me that if I’m in anyway deficient in satisfying her, my balls will join the others in that jar! So I do my best to satisfy her in every way imaginable just to keep my balls for the next time. But after awhile, I begin to imagine that my balls are in that jar floating along with the others and it turns me on! When I share this with her, she says, “Well that’s a good thing, because tonight you’re going to be deballed.” When the moment comes, her eunuch lovers are the ones who do the nutting and cutting and she fiendishly adds my testicles to her collection. During this fantasy, I am horribly amazed at how quickly I am made a eunuch! My balls don’t even resist being severed!

As the fantasy goes, I’m involved in nutting her future lovers and wield the knife as their underperforming balls are added to her collection. When I at first shared this fantasy with her, she didn’t seem interested, but over time she added to it by saying that her former nutted lovers were all gathered around the bed watching while we made love and were naked but not allowed to touch themselves. They were all awaiting her word on whether I would join them in their eunuch state, and whether my testicles would be added to her collection.

I once detected a lump in one of my testicles and went to the doctor for an examination. The diagnosis was that the lump was not cancer, but a rather common affliction guys get. Until we found out his diagnosis though, we had some rip-roaring good sex because my wife wanted to make it memorable for me if I was really going to lose my balls to cancer. What a thrill that was!

Once when I was tongue-loving her clit, I told her the taste of it was so sweet and enjoyable I was going to bite it off and swallow it. She was sucking and biting my balls at the time, and said in response, “Then I’m going to bite your balls off, chew them up and swallow them!” I said, “Fair trade,” and we brought ourselves to a tongue-licking orgasm that was so powerful and satisfying, we did it over and over again after that. She loves it when I’m tongue-loving her and announce, “Enjoy your clit while you still have it because this time I’m going to claim it!”

She once announced to me that my balls are already hers and that she is just temporarily allowing them to hang in my sack until she decides the best way to relieve me of them. That sort of talk sends me every time.

Recently, I came home to find my wife highly excited. She had received a recently-ordered sex toy in the mail that day. We went into the bedroom with it. She was massaging my lower body and nut sack with massage oil and pulling my ball bag as far as it would go, loosening my scrotum. Then she banded me tightly and pulled out her toy. It resembled a miniature guillotine. I asked her what it was and she said it was “a ballotine.” When I asked her what it was for, she said impishly, “It’s to cut your balls off whenever I want to.”

I fell in love with the device immediately. When it was time for me to cum, she pulled my banded ball bag into a slot on the ballotine and clamped it shut. “When I release this lever, the blade will drop and chop off your testicles if I so desire. You have to let me know when you’re about to cum so that I time it just right. I don’t want to castrate you without allowing you to shoot one last load.”

The sound of these instructions sent me over the top and I exploded with a sperm release that was so powerful in its finality that I didn’t care if I lost my balls this way! As I squirted my last drop of cum, she released the lever and the blade dropped to my satisfied horror. Instead of castrating me though, the blade stopped. She released the clamp and my very grateful (but empty balls) slid out of the slot. “You get to keep them this time,” she said happily.

She showed me the various applications and adjustments of the ballotine. If swiveled horizontally, it will clamp her lovely sweet clit in the slot, and I tease her that she is going to give it up to the blade and to me. This sends her for some reason. She has even asked me to threaten to clip her clit just prior to her orgasm so that she furiously attempts to pursue the fleeing orgasm she’ll never have! IF she is slow in gearing up, this threat always makes her orgasm is a howling, full-throated climax. Needless to say, that ballotine has given us some powerful play time.

She told me the ballotine has a setting big enough for a penis if we ever decided to do some penectomy play. She demonstrated it with a hot dog. It cut the wiener off in a nanosecond to my lustful amazement. I had never fantasized about cutting my penis off before that, but now I do.

Recently, though, we had an accident that resulted in my fantasy becoming reality. My balls were clamped into that ballotine and we were at the height of arousal, sex play and castration teasing. I was jerking off my hard penis and she was saying, “Let me know when it’s time for you to cum because tonight I’m going to cut your balls off and start a nut collection.” When I felt myself about to explode, I told her, “I’m going to cum!” Just then, I heard the lever activated and the blade dropped. But to my horror and amazement, it didn’t stop at the safety guard: it dropped all the way down and cut my balls clean off!

My wife was shocked and startled that something had gone wrong and kept exclaiming, “I cut them off! I cut them off!”

I had to gently persuade her to calm down and get some first aid supplies now! We patched me up and I began to heal. As the days progressed, I really did start contemplating my life as a eunuch.

My wife told me if I wanted to take her clit in exchange for my balls I could. But I told her that I wasn’t interested in revenge. She had given my what I had dreamed about for years. Now I keep her satisfied with my ever-able tongue. Her lovely clit is just as sweet and tasty as ever and we’ve had some gloriously enriching times since my focus and attention is on her now instead of my own orgasm.

She has offered to cut my penis off with the ballotine, and I haven’t said no, but if and when it happens, I want it to be during a hot sex ritual like when my balls were cut off. Without my testicles pumping sex juice and testosterone into my system, my penis is of little use. Maybe someday we will.

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Nina Foxton by Titian Beresford PDF

This is the best femdom porn novel I’ve ever read. It’s written in the Victorian style. It’s a pity it’s out of print. Anyway, I’ll be referring to it later in my Milestones series. And gelding is briefly referred to in two places. The link is below.

Nina Foxton by Titian Beresford

And here’s the cover image (which I never liked):

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Milestones: Underground Comics

Here’s another milestone in my castration fetish.

I began collecting ‘underground comics’ when I was 17. By the time I was 19 I’d collected over a hundred. These comics were famous for their outrageous, no-holds-barred graphic sex. But of course I was too weird and kinky to be turned on by them. There was only one story in one comic that had the right power dynamic for me.

A Piece of the Action

This story appeared in a comic called “Good Jive”. It was written and drawn by a Black dude called Richard ‘Grass’ Green. When I was 18-19 I masturbated and ejaculated to this story so many times.

It’s a five page story and I’ll show the climactic 5th page below. The story is pretty basic but it effectively sets the stage for the climactic ending. Here’s the summary:

Two young hippie buddies, one White, one Black, are given a mysterious box to deliver to a scary mansion. A small group of jaded male perverts led by a sexy dominant woman await the delivery. The package contains an amazing new strap-on dildo. All the perverts as well as the two hippies immediately drop their pants and eagerly offer their butts for penetration. The dominant lady tears off her clothes and joyously pegs one of them.

Here’s the final page:

I love how fiendishly intense the dominant lady is. How she calls her little harem of submissives “such little boys looking for a new thrill, a bigger kick” and joyously yells out “come to momma!” when she’s pegging them. And I love how silly with pleasure the pegged guy is. And that “she gets her rocks off too”.

Grass Green passed away in 2002. God bless him.

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Milestones: Love’s Young Dream

Here’s another painful milestone in my castration fetish.

It should come as no surprise that I’ve never had much luck with girls. The bitter irony is that I was an unusually attractive young man, although I was never that conscious of it. In my early 20s girls were literally throwing themselves at me but I just couldn’t respond.


One day when I was almost 16 I was walking home from school when I was stunned and totally blown away by the heavenly vision of a tall, stately girl my own age with long blonde hair walking majestically a few yards ahead of me. Unfortunately, she never wanted anything to do with me. I became obsessed, similar to a stalker. Her face was what you’d call handsome. She was androgynous like Jamie Lee Curtis in the first “Halloween” movie. Jamie Lee has also been rumored to be intersexed.


Debbie had a similar tall, androgynous build as Martha but was more feminine. We dated for a couple months when I was 16-17. She was my first real girlfriend. She gave me the opportunity for my first intimate grope during a screening of the movie “Performance”. I was disappointed how flat her chest was and that her outer genitals felt squishy.

She was from a big city and was staying with her cousin in our small town for a year. She turned me on to a lot of hippie culture that was so popular at the time.

“Performance” is a crazy, fucked up movie, by the way. Awesome and beautiful.


Julie was my first sexual experience. She was a casual acquaintance of my, not-yet-out, lesbian cousin from a big city who came, along with her mom and sister, to visit for a week every summer. I was 17.

Julie came on to me and I jumped at the chance. She apologized for not being ‘fresh’ the first time since she hadn’t showered for a few days.

She was definitely the most attractive girl out of the handful that I’ve had sex with. She had a really sweet, nubile body. Her skin was a little rough, though.

She wanted to continue the relationship after she went back to the big city but I rudely scorned her. I was an immature, momma’s-boy asshole. I was truly beastly to the poor little bitch.

Decades later I found out from my cousin that my mother had angrily lambasted her for corrupting her sweet little angel boy.

Pot Zombie

At this point I started dropping acid, drinking beer and smoking pot. But the acid trips were pretty painful so I gave them up pretty quickly.

Adolescence was just too painful and I thought I was being ‘hip’, so I let myself sink into becoming a ‘pot zombie’ for the next several years.

Still managed to squeeze in a couple more girlfriends before meeting my wife-to-be at 23.

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“Drop Your Drawers!”, a femdom castration fantasy

He got a referral for a lady surgeon to correct a minor problem.

When he showed up for the appointment he was ushered into a small exam room by the surgeon’s assistant, a brisk and willowy young brunette with olive skin and curly hair pulled back in a ponytail.

She says, “OK, drop you drawers,” and tells him to get on the exam chair.

He stammers, “But, my problem isn’t…,” but he meekly does what he’s told.

When he gets on the exam chair he automatically closes his legs out of modesty.

She grabs his knees and pulls them apart saying, “Spread ’em! You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.”

He spreads his legs all the way until they’re pressed back flat onto the chair. He blushes in embarrassment at having his private parts so shamefully exposed to a strange woman.

He stammers, “But, but why do, do I…?”

She calmly replies, “The doctor’s going to want to talk to you about castration.”

“Castration?”, he says with a frightened bleat, “Why does she…”

Suddenly, the lady surgeon comes in. She’s a solid, attractive brunette of forty wearing jeans and a blouse.

She goes over to him and instantly starts manhandling his genitals, inspecting them closely, pulling, squeezing, stretching.

He notices she’s not wearing gloves. She tells him she needs the close, tactile skin-on-skin contact.

She shifts her focus to his scrotum and its contents, gently squeezing and rolling his testicles.

She announces, “Yes, perfect. I want to take these.”

Then she bluntly asks him, “Have you ever considered castration?”

He replies, “No, no, of course not.”

She asks coyly, “Not even as a fantasy?”

He replies, “Well, yes, as a matter of fact I have, but I don’t see…”

She announces, “Good. Then let’s begin.”

He squeaks, “But, wait!”

“Castration’s not that bad,” she says soothingly. “Just relax and enjoy it.”

He squirms and moans, “Nooooooooo”.

She scoffs, “What a little slut he is! Look how he squirms.” Then she grabs his cock and says, “And just look how hard his cock is. He obviously wants it.”

He jumps when she grabs his cock. He hadn’t even been aware of his own arousal because everything was moving so fast.

Feeling her grip on his erection pushes him over the edge and with an anguished moan he starts spraying semen all over his chest and belly. She helps finish him off with a few slow, smooth strokes. “That should help him relax.”

The assistant hands her some paper towels to wipe the semen off her hands.

The assistant asks, “Should we clean him up?”

The surgeon replies, “No, it’s not in our way. Leave it for later.” Then she says, “Give me the local numbing pump.”

He feels powerless to resist. It’s as if she has taken complete ownership of his genitals. He has unwittingly entered into her domain where her will is law. It’s her exam room, her assistant, her skills, her years of experience, her tools. It has reduced him to a helpless lump of quivering flesh completely at the mercy of her skillful hands.

The assistant stands to one side as the surgeon begins and says, “I always love watching you do this.” The surgeon just grins.

He realizes she was right. He floats on a warm, dreamy cloud of pleasure as she performs the task.

Then he hears the sound of two liquid plops followed by the snap of a plastic lid that reverberates with finality.

The surgeon gets up, washes her hands and says, “Clean him up and send him on his way,” and then quickly leaves.

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Milestones: Victorian Porn

Here is another milestone in my castration fetish.

My 14-15 years were a busy time but luckily I was able to discover some erotica.

Although I rarely revisit them, even after 50 years these excerpts still have the power to arouse.

My Secret Life

This happened when I was 14.

I must have read about it in an ad in “Playboy”. A new magazine of erotica was announced called “Avant Garde” and it was being published by the same guy that had published the famous “Eros” magazine, although I was too young to remember “Eros”.

The thing that really grabbed me about this ad was the offer of a book to be given away to charter subscribers. The book was a complete edition of the famous Victorian sex memoir, “My Secret Life”. I was eager for real-life descriptions of sex and I’ve always been a sucker for ‘complete’ or ‘original’.

It was a big disappointment when it finally came. The book was huge and unwieldy and difficult to read. The binding was cheap glue that immediately cracked when I opened it causing pages to fall out. And the content was dull, repetitive and often disgusting. I gave up on reading it fairly quickly.

Oh, and “Avant Garde” sucked too.

I finally read a much shorter, edited version of “My Secret Life” a few years ago and it was very good. Not that erotic but certainly entertaining and enlightening.

The Pearl

I discovered “The Pearl” when I was 15. It’s 650 pages of classic Victorian porn.

Roughly 75% is devoted to straight sex, the rest is devoted to women ‘birching’ each other. Once again, I felt confused that none of the straight sex really aroused me. And I had no interest in the woman-on-woman stuff.

Only two passages aroused me. Here is a summary of the first one followed by a link:

A girl discovers her brother taking advantage of one of her girlfriends and punishes him by birching him in front of a small group of her girlfriends. The birching causes the boy to have an embarrassing ejaculation.

Here’s the link: Lady Pokingham Vol. II

I loved the incest, all the girls watching and the humiliation of the involuntary ejaculation.

Here is the other passage. It’s very brief. It just describes a young man giving his friend a spur-of-the-moment blow job.

Here’s the link: Sub-Umbra

I loved how free and easy it was and the submissive aspect.

Autobiography of a Flea

The following embarrassing incident happened when I was 15.

I discovered this famous book late one hot summer night in my older brother’s bedroom. He and his wife were both absent at the time.

While browsing through I stumbled upon one passage that literally blew my mind. I stripped off my clothes and ran around the neighborhood naked until the police spotted me and picked me up.

Here’s a summary and link:

The story is set in the 18th century. A girl walks along a rural country path and stops to watch two horses having sex in a field. She notices a peasant boy is already there watching the horses and openly masturbating. She boldly goes over to him and takes over jerking him off till he cums.

Here’s the link: Autobiography of a Flea

I loved the passivity of the boy, the devilish aggressiveness and delight of the girl and the open, brazen spectacle of the copious ejaculation.

Little Richard

I started to get into music when I was 15. My older brother gave me his beat-up old portable stereo and his beat-up old 1950s records. I found Little Richard to be electrifying. I’d lay in bed and my whole body would be rigid and tingling with rapture. This showed a strong feminine side in me.

Library Stains

During the second half of my 15th year I adopted a strict new daily regimen. This included concentrating on my homework by studying in the basement stacks of a local college library every day. Perversely, I also got into the habit of leaving long semen stains on the white walls down at the end of each row of the stacks. I must have left about two dozen. They turned kind of yellowish brown after a while.

Furtively masturbating in semi-secluded public places during quiet, off-hours became a silly little hobby of mine during my teen years. It was only an occasional thing.

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Milestones: Family Matters

Here’s another milestone in the development of my castration fetish.

My 14-15 years were intense. Puberty was right behind me and my first teen years found me clueless and out of it. And this milestone is actually kind of painful.

And I suppose I should mention here that I’ve never been what one would call a chronic or compulsive masturbator.

Nude Photos

My crazy older sister came home from college and bragged to me about having nude photos in her luggage that were taken by her photographer boyfriend. When she went to bed I rummaged through her luggage, got them out and used them for onanistic purposes. There was one color one taken in the woods that really showed off her ‘charms’.

The next day she confronted me about her luggage being disarranged. I denied doing anything. I’ve always suspected she wanted me to look at them.

Trimphant Castratrix

I made a sort of confession to my crazy older sister one day while she was doing some simple task in the kitchen of our family home. I told her I had had a dream/fantasy of her castrating me and then holding my severed scrotum up in the air in a gesture of triumph. She laughed it off and to humor me she even pantomimed the gesture.

I think it’s pretty clear that in this instance it was I that was the crazy one.

Wisdom Teeth

My mother took me to have my wisdom teeth surgically removed. She made no effort to prepare me for it. Everything about it was unexpected and disturbing. And my mom was so silent, cold and stern both on the way over and back.

I experienced feelings of betrayal, abandonment and guilt. It felt like a sort of punitive correction. It also resonated with feelings from back during my time in traction when I was two years old. Oh, and it was a male oral surgeon by the way.

Hall Mirror Stain

My mother had a set of three almost full-length mirrors installed in a closed-off hallway at the back of our house. The middle mirror was flat against the wall and the side mirrors were on hinges that swung out so that you could stand inside them and see all around yourself.

One day my mother asked me to come and look at the mirrors. On the middle one there was a long white dried semen stain. She said she knew it had to be either myself or my older brother. She must have been able to tell from my stricken expression that it was me. She told me to clean it up and bitched about how she already had enough to clean up every day around the house.

I think she later come to regret having been so tactless.

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“The Pony Play Club”, femdom castration fantasy

George and Emily are newlyweds, married less than a year.

When Emily discovers pony play files on their laptop she just smiles. She has dated enough before meeting George to know that all men have funny kinks. And besides, she has secrets too.

Emily reveals her discovery to George in a gentle and loving way. He blushes and hangs his head in shame. He is surprised when Emily tells him she would like to learn more about his special interest. And in this way she gradually worms her way into becoming an essential part of his fetish.

In only a short while they have both fully embraced the fetish and immerse themselves in it on weekends.

They find a quiet meadow in a secluded part of a nearby woods to engage in some of this play. Emily trots George around the meadow while stinging his bottom with her whip. George has big balls and is hung like horse.

The pony play sessions always end with a milking, performed either by Emily or by George milking himself while she leers and grins devilishly.

George and Emily live in a rural area which is home to a small agricultural college. Part of the college is a small veterinary school. Emily suggests that George might like to learn more about the veterinary school since it routinely handles large animals like ponies.

Emily arranges for them to be given a special private tour of the veterinary school. Their guide is the head professor of the school, a very confident and attractive women in her early 40s. The tour ends in the gelding center.

The professor shows them one of the gelding stalls and explains the purposes of the restraining straps and other equipment. George becomes flustered and aroused. The professor looks at Emily with a quizzical and enquiring smile. Emily shyly explains that George is into pony play. The professor smiles and says she understands fully and that she has had some experience with pony play people. They ask her to tell them more.

Turns out there is a small pony play club in a nearby town. The president of the club contacted the professor and invited her to give a talk about her work at a club meeting.

All the club members were dressed in their usual pony play gear for the talk with the exception that their genitals were covered with a modesty crotch covering.

When the professor got around to discussing the important topic of gelding she noticed that many in the audience had become aroused and were sneakily stimulating themselves.

She smiled. It amused her to see that. She was familiar with the response. She had seen it before in males.

A week after the talk she got a message from the president of the club that was very pushy and almost demanded to be given a private appointment with her. He said he urgently needed more practical info about gelding.

She told him to meet her at the gelding center on a Sunday when no one else would be around. On the given day she found him waiting impatiently outside when she got there. Once inside she told him to put on his pony play gear but to omit the modesty crotch covering.

She snorted in amused surprise as he appeared before her with his low hanging sac with it’s two big balls and his big human-pony pizzle already swollen to half hardness.

She led him to one of the gelding stalls and fastened the straps that held him tightly in place. His pizzle had become fully erect and pointed at the ceiling.

She asked him if he knew what she was going to do to him. He just whimpered. She didn’t bother milking him. She just started right in and soon it was all over.

A couple weeks after that she began getting similar requests from some of the other club members. She was only too happy to oblige.

This story caused George to get even more flustered and aroused. Looking from one to the other the professor asks Emily what she would like to do. Emily’s eyes twinkle and she smiles brightly as she asks to be given one of those Sunday appointments for her George. When George hears this he shudders and cums in his pants making a big wet stain in them. The women see it and laugh while George cringes and blushes with embarrassment.

When the special day arrives George is soon strapped in tight in the gelding stall. Emily asks permission to milk George one last time and the professor grants it with a good-natured smile. When his ejaculation comes it is volcanic and copious.

The professor explains to Emily that she always likes to take off her top when she is doing a gelding. Emily nods approval and the professor takes off her blouse and bra letting her fine, firm breasts swing free. She is obviously excited and her big nipples stick out stiffly.

George’s balls are quite big, like nectarines. While the professor is gelding him she talks to Emily about how delicious cooked testicles can be. Emily is shocked at first but soon titters with delight at the idea. The professor says they are extra delicious because you know you are eating a male’s precious manhood that he has lost forever. When the professor invites Emily over to dinner in order to experience it she readily agrees. The professor pops George’s severed balls into a doggy bag just as they go to leave.

George is still on pain killers when Emily returns from her dinner with the professor. Emily wears a broad, happy smile. George asks her how it went. She just smiles at him and winks.