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. Castrati living

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Jul 11, 2018.

. Castrati living 4.7 5 6votes
4.7/5, 6 votes

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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    [Being the continued experiences of Toby following on from story Castrati]

    I fed on Emma while that bitch surgeon worked with her knife. Emmanuel was so turned on by the idea of that, Emma straddling me throughout the operation, that he paid for the thing to be filmed. I remember how bright and white the theatre looked, but the table was done up much more to look like a single bed. It was covered in a white latex material that could be cleaned down and there were restraints for the arms and the legs in case you moved and hurt yourself or I suppose the surgeon whilst the op was done under local. Emma was wearing a tiny white dress, the hem so fucking high the wisps of pussy hair were peeping out on show. The surgeon said how 'feline sexy' Emma looked. She had seen a lot of bitches put men through this, but Emma, well Emma looked like a sensuous cat that was getting all the cream. I had another chance to refuse the op and then the fucking surgeon put a series of syringe shots in and around my privates. The fucking stuff stung. it stung like crazy at first and then like a the dentist, the tingling changed to numbness. Emma watched me impassively as I felt as though everything around my groin had been posted to Siberia or some such place. The surgeon was pretty chatty...with her. She asked about Emmanuel. Did he fuck other women or was this a tryst of two? Emma said that the arrangement was that he could fuck any woman that he wanted, he was an ebony prince. it was his place on earth to inseminate white women, something that the surgeon seemed to warm to. But the living thing, well that was all with Emma. Bizarre may be, but that was all news to me. I'd never heard any of those arrangements. Emma glanced at me. Her expression was curious. Had I, Toby thought about that? The cock that I sucked had probably been up a few bitches. It would be up a lot more, squirting in the goodies that I soon wouldn't be able to offer.

    Emma settled herself above my face. Her sex looked hyped up, her labia really swollen. She really has been torn open going with Emmanuel so that she constantly looked ready to fuck. Getting a kid out of there later was going to be easier because of the way that he rode her. The surgeon commented on how nicely I sniffed pussy before licking. It seemed that it was not simply a ritual. A key part of the physical and the psychological dependence I had for Emma was associated with sucking down her pheromones into my lungs. Apparently, long ago, when we still accepted that we were mammals too, that was how the dominant male subjugated the beta males. Beating the crap out of them messed up their chore and hunting potential. Turning their brains into sex craving mush was a better means of keeping control.

    Emma looked back over her bare shoulder with that fucking scorpion tattoo of his and asked whether she should,

    'Shall I get him lapping yet?'

    'Yes, of course' said the surgeon. I didn't know it but she had already begun with the scalpel in those blue latex gloved hands.

    Emma settled down onto my face, like an Eagle brooding its eggs. I felt her sex lips slide either side of my nose and I could feel the bounding pulse in her cunt. I could feel her wriggling to look back and I thought shit, this is what an absolute bitch is. She is doing this to make her sex life perfect.

    'Good boy Toby' she whispered, lifting and looking to see what my nose looked liked smeared with her lady cum. 'Lift your head for mistress, let me see that tongue working.'

    I lapped at her sex. I lapped like crazy feeling that at any moment I would feel as though someone had taken a massive drill to my groin and mashed out a fucking cavern down there. Honestly though, I felt nothing as regards pain. There was the smell of something, later described as burned flesh when the diathermy was used. There was the feeling of having my legs moved a bit wider. Then though pussy descended against my mouth and Emma began to wriggle and to writhe, making these little mewing sounds that I'm sure weren't meant to interlude the moon light sonata that the surgeon had running as a the musak accompaniment to her work. I felt light headed. I didn't know whether that was a rush hormone change or whether I was simply intoxication on Emma. But I drifted out of consciousness, without a whiff an anaesthetic near my nose.

    The next thing that I recall was that I was back in the svelte bedroom that I remember being booked into and I had a dressing down below that seemed to be held in place by what I can only describe as a diaper. They'd run a drip up on me as much to administer regular analgesia straight into my veins. Frankly, I felt away with the faeries for much of the time. Thank god, my mistress was there though. I thought for terrible moments before the op that I might be abandoned. Imagine the fucking nastiness of that, having the op done and then being dumped instantly. But back and back Emma came, with fruit to eat and sweet kisses to my cheek. She told me how pleased Emmanuel was and how brave I had been. She wanted to play with my cock. Apparently you could keep that a decent adult size, avoiding the withering effects of surgery, if you masturbated it. Not that it produced anything save prostate juice of course. It couldn't actually 'spunk' any more. The surgeon insisted 'paws off' though. Proper stimulation and 'wanking Toby' would be the order of the day when the wound was healed. Some eunuchs could learn to get an erection, although it was apparently the strangest feeling, because all the strong male urges had gone AWOL by then.

    'It's for me to play with and for you to piss through. That's what its there for from now on' Emma told me.

    Her words had hardened a few days post op. She was seated cross legged in white cord jeans and a pure white linen blouse. The fan whirred above my bed but the bed was soaked in a hot flush sweat. I was drenched in sweat. It seemed to pour out of me and now I saw why that drip was still running.

    Emmanuel called her on her mobile and she chatted with 'her man' whilst a nurse tried to mop me cool with a series of scented wet towels.

    'God, I'm missing you!' Emma said.

    'This does get better' said the nurse, 'another 24 hours and then we will get up and start you moving. You need to start to exercise as you will put on weight so easily now.'

    'Yes I know Rachel. She's lovely! You rogue, you bedded her last night?! Did Peter fight? No....I thought not!'

    'Your mistress is very beautiful' said the nurse. I nodded and glanced across at her.

    'Great! I want to chose the decor of the rooms though. Don't move furniture in until I've walked around the place again and chosen how I want things to look.' Emma was excited on the phone. The new house.

    'She has a black lover doesn't she' said the nurse, starting to change my dressing then. The fucking dressings pulled. Exudate made things stick.

    'Yes' I told her feeling fucking fed up.

    'I thought so,' said the nurse who I guessed was Nigerian too, 'she looks so very very happy.'

    May be it was day three or four and they had me up and walking around. Drip analgesia was replaced by shots in my arse. I ached down below. I was being walked around the sunny quadrangle that was located outside my room. The hormone drop had hold of me. I didn't feel male, or at all self willed. it was as if I couldn't get riled by anything. Emma had tired of waiting to go with Emmanuel so she took an early flight home content that I was making good progress. Being with Emmanuel meant that she needed a good fucking every three or four days minimum. Dependency wasn't confined to yours truly. There was another guy slowly touring the quadrangle. He was called Heinz and he was from Hamburg. I wanted to make a joke about baked beans or something but Marie his Italian mistress and her lover, a dude called Isaac were watching us. Heinz it seemed had regrets. Regrets about encouraging Marie to date Isaac. Regrets not about the operation but the relentless exercise regimen that would dominate his life now. This op increases the risk of obesity and even enlargement of your tits. Maria hated fat slobs so her had to keep himself fit in order to get the licks he craved. We shuffled together around and around pretending to be seventy years of age.

    By the time I flew back into Heathrow eight days later I was a different man. I need to explain that. I felt un man. I felt a sexual. It scared the crap out of me because if I didn't have an urge, how was I going to be of any use to Emma? The surgeon had smiled and given me a handout. It was in Arabic, but there were little passages of English interposed too. What did that say?! May be harems were more common than I supposed. Anyway, the bitch surgeon assured me that I would need to lick. Just as soon as Emma scented me again. It was all about a different psychological need now. She described it in odd terms. I was the stopper on a bottle, and if there was no bottle, then I faced a crisis. I would crave my mistress just as intensely, but differently. I was likely to be awed by her sex, his phallus and what they did. I would become a compliant aesthete of their love making. I listened to her.

    'You'll have no reason to live save for what she will allow you to do' she whispered.

    I frowned. That was fucking terrifying.

    'It is the devotion operation' she said, 'if your mistress gifts you attention, her way, then you live, if she abandons you, then you will want to die.'

    Do you know how absolute that feels? Have you cringed yet? Have you really thought how absolute bitch you have to be to do that to a man? Emmanuel and my mistress waited in the arrivals lounge. I pushed my luggage trolley before me with a few twinges you know where. When I came into view, she kissed him. She fucking kissed him and I thought, how beautiful that was. It was like my brain was switching, like a light. Did you notice that how I said 'fucking' and then it was instant beauty. Those sort of experiences, mixed up memories of how I should feel, how I did feel now, ambushed me day and night for the next months.

    'You look well!' said Emma.

    'Thank you mistress' I answered. Her smile, it seemed worth a casket of jewels too me. She is so fine, so beautiful so naturally in charge. I felt ridiculously grateful that she had come to collect me. I felt grovelingly grateful that I was worth the thought. It felt so good to be owned.

    Emmanuel said, 'you will exercise each day Toby, no paunch eunuchs in our house'.

    'Yes master' I answered quickly. He was dressed immaculately and he seemed taller than before.

    They led the way to the car, hand in hand, kissing occasionally, whilst I pushed the trolley behind. I watched my mistress's bottom moving in the tan leather jeans that she wore. I suspected that she was already pregnant, Emmanuel had bought her another watch, a Rolex. She looked fertile, she looked content, she looked pristine. She walked with obvious poise. She smiled so prettily. I felt so lucky to be near them.

    We reached the car and I got the bags into the back with a twinge or two more.

    Then I got the door so that my mistress could seat herself in the car. Emmanuel dropped into the drivers seat.

    'You will lick me and suck master off, as soon as we get home' said Emma silkily glancing in the mirror.

    I gulped and nodded in response. Please.

    [I read that some men do fantasize about this. May be we girls do too? It's very sexy powerful. A bit of research on this then. Another fertility control story 'taking the shots' is available within 'Measuring Men' Amazon]
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