1. In order to comment on a story, you must give it a rating first. This is done to keep the story thread itself nice and clean. We have some changes coming that will provide a better format for commenting, but in the meantime please rate and comment, authors love feedback!
    Dismiss Notice

. Castrati

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Jul 10, 2018.

. Castrati 4 5 4votes
4/5, 4 votes

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. Thread
  2. Reviews (4)
  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    Nothing would ever permit a British doctor to 'sort out' what Emma wanted done with me. So she went dark web and made contact with a surgeon from some place in Africa. We could meet up it was suggested at a very discreet, a very clean clinic some place outside Tunis. Emma showed me the little video clip that she had from the surgeon. It was a woman! She was dark skinned, really quite exotic looking and may be she was Nigerian. At any rate, I formed the impression that she was from a western part of Africa. The surgeon was talking 'matter of fact' answering Emma's questions. Removing a man's balls for him had been done since time immemorial. In renaissance Italy they did it to boys so that they could sing higher and for longer as they reached puberty, they were the castrati. In historical harem times there had been eunuchs who had had their testicles clipped off so that they could attend the harem women. Emma had asked whether that meant fuck the women without risk of pregnancy and the surgeon smiled. No, she meant lick the women, when the harem owner wasn't able to attend to the women as often as he wanted. The removal of testicles changed hormones and it made the men not only much more passive and submissive, but of course it stopped them pretending to be men. In the modern harems (and she was pretty shady about that), the men lost their balls, and were then trained to use face strap on dildos to supply the women with the penetrative pleasures that they demanded. Still smiling the bitch surgeon said that castrating the male was the complete solution. Locking his dick in a cage was kind of sexy, but it was tedious to manage. Kicking his balls for him until they failed was dangerous. Men treated that way, tended to develop tumours of the scrotum and then die. It was hardly the desired outcome was it? No, the right solution, if Emma had a secure and life long relationship with an alpha male, if they wanted the cuck to become a proper eunuch was to get him 'seen to'. It was a relatively safe and simple procedure, using aseptic technique. There would be a 'drop' period after the op when the male experienced a very radical hormone shift and that could be a little depressing for a while. But once he had settled, then he became a perfect slave.

    The idea of that terrified me. It bloody well terrified me. But Emma got me these autobiographies of men who were eunuchs. Evidently they lived to tell the tale. Clearly they survived the operation and started to make sense of their new identity. What was clear was that the men had to feel that they had a purpose. If they couldn't procreate or fuck properly, then they had to have a service to offer. They had to have an identity. Emma, her lover Emmanuel and I went out to dinner one evening. She wore the slinkiest of black chiffon topped jump suits and a gold choker around her throat. Her shoulder was already marked with his tattoo, a black scorpion with an E sitting on the sting on its tail. Close friends knew that she was owned by him. Fewer though knew that I referred to him as master too, or that I sucked cock to order. After the starters and the first wine Emmanuel eyed me. it was time to explain a few things. He said that the plan was to move to a big house outside of town and for Emma to start having his kids. None of that was a surprise but he then said that Emma wasn't sure that she wanted me along in the new place. She wanted it all to be 'perfect harmony' and that occasionally, wearing my cage I got frustrated and became mulish. I occasionally tried to think like a man and well, that wouldn't be conducive to discreet good manners in the new house. I remember staring aghast at Emma but she just tossed the gaze straight back at me.

    'If you're going to live with us, Emma wants you castrated' Emmanuel said.

    I remember that I knocked over the glass of wine. The sommelier fussed over it and when he left having replaced our table cloth with a fresh one, I heard Emma say,

    'I want you to live with us Toby...but I'm afraid that is the condition that goes with it. I will arrange for you to have all the necessary information, for you to make a thoughtful choice, but that is what is required. If you won't then it is time for you to go.'

    By that evening, I'd lived as the cuck, with Emma and Emmanuel for around about a year. They had the master bedroom (naturally) and I came to pussy or cock on direction. I'd learned six different ways to use my mouth. On master, to arouse him ready for fucking my mistress. On master too, to clean him up after he had taken her and also to simply demonstrate his power in front of her, gushing a load down my throat. You suck differently, move your tongue differently in all these cases. You use your tongue to stroke beneath the thick shaft in particular ways. I was his bitch, I didn't fight that label. I licked mistress in different ways too. Dainty licking to tease or else to show restraint if she queened me in front of a close girlfriend. I licked full mouth if I was licking her out, toileting her perfect sex after he took her. I licked carefully, up near her clitty but not across it if she required a lavish and slow pleasure, stroking my hair for an hour or more whilst she sensed all that he sex could provide. What I'm saying is that I had learned to serve. I knew that they liked me serving too! So I was dumbfounded.

    'Do you remember that drinks party Toby, just before Christmas. You were out of sorts that night. You refused to tell my friends how much you admired Emmanuel. You were in one of your mulish moods.' Emma touched my arm. She wanted to explain something. 'If you'd had this little operation there would have been no stubbornness, no 'grumps'. You would have known what you were, felt the admiration rather than simply mouthed it and we wouldn't have endured that awkward silence would we.'

    Emma is my mistress. She doesn't play at it. it's not a game or a play. Its not a role cast off or donned, it is who she is. She has lost the guilt about choosing Emmanuel over me and that associated with requiring me to attend them. Attendance taught me why she made her choice. Attendance taught me that highly sexed people felt they deserved more than simple coital sex. I was to augment things. I couldn't remember the last time I thought of her as my wife.

    'We will entertain a lot. I will require you to attend my girlfriends as other mistresses. I can't afford any churlish behaviour' Emma whispered.

    'think on it' said Emmanuel, 'You have until the week after next. That's when we're due to exchange contracts on the new house.'

    Emma had squeezed my arm and he had sent me one of his take it or leave it looks. He had used those before, leading to my first cock suck and yes, starting to use butt plugs before you know what.

    Those days were filled with information that Emma had found. I was left to read. She would hand me the books and then stroll away in the skin tight cord jeans and high heeled boots. Every time I looked at the woman I saw sex, him fucking her and her climaxing so hungrily. The thought of them copulating humbled me. They were so beautiful together. You have to try and imagine that. Picture it, you daub a few amateur pictures and then Michelangelo takes you up into the Cistine chapel ceiling and shows you how to paint creation. It is that immense when you see a very beautiful woman coupling with a fantastically equipped black man. Watching Emma cream on him, I sometimes wanted to slit my own throat. it was terrible to witness the beauty of what they did.

    By the time I watched that video clip I was pretty much decided that I wanted to go through with it. I couldn't imagine being away from her. I couldn't imagine not being near him. I might envy him but he has the most perfect cock, thick, veined and with a handsome head on it. He runs it up Emma and she is utterly complete. She is woman on him. I couldn't exist without them, after a year that was how bad the addiction, the subjugation was.

    'The pain after I come around from the anaesthetic' I started my question with Emma...

    'It's done under a block local anaesthetic darling' she said, 'you have a series of injections around the area so that you feel nothing, and then they cut and suture until you have a nice neat scar beneath your cock.'

    I gawped at her. I gawped open mouth at her. Shit!!!!

    'It's about live consent Toby. They have to know, all through to the moment of cutting that you accept what is being done. You have to want it and show it.'

    I'm trying to imagine watching my balls being hacked off. I can't! I can't just think of it as discarded tissue in a kidney dish.

    'I will hold your hand. If you like, we can kiss whilst they do it' Emma said.

    Emma never allowed m to kiss her anymore. She never allowed that! I only kissed her hands or her feet or her sex.

    'You love Emmanuel' I whispered to her. it seemed a tangent observation, but it wasn't.


    'Forever...without failing' I pursued. I had to know. I had to know that there was no alternative path future.

    'Yes' said Emma, 'the only space in my life for the future depends on whether you freely consent to this.'

    'That's fucking cruel' I murmured.

    'Yes, it is' she said and totally without expression.

    The sun blazed down in forty degrees of heat when we reached the clinic. A receptionist showed us to a suite of rooms. They didn't look medical save for the call bells and a oxygen supply built into the wall for emergencies. Emma was wearing a loose fitting almost floating dress in white linen with silver cuffs on either wrist. She had another choker around her throat and a pendant E hanging down from that, picked out in ebony. The surgeon looked fucking younger when I met her, maybe in her twenties still. She dropped my slacks and touched my bits. She touched me with cold brown hands, agile fingers and she talked calm professional to Emma.

    'They will come off nicely' she said to her, 'and we'll achieve a very neat scar.'

    Emma smiled. She looked as if she was taking a fucking kid for his first haircut at the barbers!!

    'I need you to watch this video please' she said to me without using my name at all. Whilst Emma and I watched, she started writing out paper work. The video was dubbed in English and entitled, 'A Modern Life of Service'. The fucking woman's voice sounded plummy like one of those BBC English newsreels from the 1950s. The op was shown in black and white, and it was briefly handled. I shuddered watching it but then suddenly the aftermath was in colour. There was this posh white bitch in her thirties and she had an Arabian looking lover. They flicked through magazines, she took a call on her mobile and their eunuch came in. He went to masters cock with the merest beckoning, sucking the guy whilst his mistress chatted on he mobile. The guy looked pretty relaxed having his dick sucked. Then the call ended, 'Madam' was ready for a little pleasure before dinner. So eunuch handed her a drink and then tongued pussy whilst she chatted with master. The camera angle changed and you got the backside view beneath the enoch's toga. There was just a neatly formed scar where balls once hung.

    The bloody film makers must have learned their stuff on news reels. Statistics came up whilst he served mistress. Mood swings improved by 90%, compliance with orders at first instruction a crazy 96%. Eunuchs typically had around two months of discomfort and confusion and then contentment in their place.

    'We'll get you through those first months Toby we will. You're so good with your mouth. You've lots to be proud of. Learning to serve without having to worry whether its manly is going to help so much!' Emma stroked my hand. The surgeon had papers for me to read. There was a pen to sign the consent form with.

    'Would you like to lick Mistress whilst I operate?' the young surgeon asked.

    I stared at her like she was a monster. Emma stroked my hand some more.

    'It helps' said the surgeon quietly, 'it helps to focus on your new life. Your mistress is very very beautiful.'

    'Yes' I said, and wondered what I had just agreed to.

    'good' smiled the surgeon, 'is that alright Emma, it does help a great deal!'

    Emma smiled, of course.

    I signed the paperwork.

    ['Taking the Shots' within the new collection of stories 'Measuring Men' Amazon is another and longer fertility management story. Of course too, I hope that you might welcome a further story about how Toby got on here too!]
Rate this thread:
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.

Share This Page