By Palemale

New to the city, twenty-seven years old, and in need of a place to live if only for a short while, I signed a month to month lease on a small basement apartment. The small grated windows near the high ceiling might have troubled others, but I saw them as additional security against break-ins. The building owner lived above and seemed happy to again have rent coming in from a new tenant.

She was attractive, probably in her late 30’s, and had a nice figure though she seemed rather prudish. The long skirt and buttoned up blouse when mixed with her very formal mode of conversation certainly were not giving off any signals of interest. She asked to be called Ms. Silva, explaining that her husband had passed away some time ago and she had returned to her maiden name. For the first several months our relationship consisted of a simple “good morning” or “good evening” and the rent check on time each month.

Things began to change the Friday evening I returned to find that a water pipe had broken. Ms. Silva had a plumber replaced a damaged pipe in the wall of my bedroom. My things had been moved to avoid damage and except for some additional repairs to the wall the job was done before I got home.

A few minutes later Ms. Silva knocked at my door. She carried a large brown bag and said we needed to talk. We walked into my bedroom to see the repairs. It was then that Ms. Silva dumped the contents of the bag on the bed. Out poured most of my bondage toys including leather restraints, whips, gags, and a chastity device.

Ms. Silva calmly explained that she no longer felt comfortable living above a man who engaged in such things. I would have to move, she would not take a chance of being raped in the night by a tenant. I tried to reason with her and explain that I had no desire to harm her or anyone. The argument continued until Ms. Silva picked up the steel chastity device from the pile of sex toys.

“If you insist on staying, put this on and then bring the keys to me,” she stated as though it were a major concession on her part.

I was shocked. Here was a woman I hardly knew demanding control of my sexual organ. If I didn’t comply I had to move out. She made it clear that it would be either submission or eviction.

My apartment was close to my new job, and I needed the money. Moving would take a lot of time, even if I could find another place as cheap as this. Still I didn’t like the idea of wearing the chastity device. It was a present from a former girlfriend who would have me wear it until she was completely satisfied. Not something that I had ever worn for more than a few days at a time. It was also a Lori device. Once locked on with its steel spike pushed through my Prince Albert piercing it really can’t come off without the keys. I also remember it fit so tightly that any attempt at an erection was very painful. She left me with little choice. Even though it was unreasonable, I accepted the chastity device from her hands.

I said I’d put it on if it made her feel better. Then she again told me to do it on while she waited.

I excused myself to the bathroom and carefully installed the chastity device. It was a bit tricky as I was aroused and it took some time to force my penis into the metal tube and slide the spike through the piercing that held everything in place. When I was finished I came back and handed her both keys.

Putting the keys in her pocket she said she wanted to see it. When I began to protest she simply restated that she wanted to see it “now please”.

I began to unbuckle my pants when she said to just take them off and the underwear too. She had me come closer to her so she could check to make sure it was on securely.

Standing naked except for the steel chastity device encasing my now painful penis I came closer to let her examine the device. She said something about how this will be so much better, then knelt and carefully checked the two locking screws that secured my sex organ. After shaking it and pulling on it, she seemed satisfied that my penis was no longer a danger to her virtue. She especially liked the way the metal spike poked out the end of my penis saying that she wished she had caged her husband that way to stop his constant masturbating.

I expected her to leave as I was now humbled and embarrassed by what I had agreed to. Instead, she wanted to know more about the bondage equipment and I could see she was fascinated by the selection of whips I owned.

“Can I assume from the scars on your bottom that you enjoy being whipped?” she asked.

“Yes”, I admitted with some hesitation.

There has always been something exciting about being tied out and beaten by a woman. Only one former lover had beaten me regularly, usually I would have to pay a professional dominatrix from time to time to fill my needs. The whip scars on my butt cheeks were a birthday present from my favorite Dom.

“I want to whip you,” she stated, leaving me dumbfounded, “put on the restraints so I can lock you to your bed.”

I didn’t know what to say. This prim and proper lady just came out and demanded to whip me. In a matter of less than thirty minutes I had been reduced to a naked, sexually chastised male that had his landlady ordering him to prepare to be whipped.

I complied and soon found myself stretched out and locked to the metal frame of my bed. Ms. Silva stuffed the leather gag in my mouth and tightened the buckle to hold it in place.

“I don’t need to hear you cry out. I just want to hurt you. I want to hurt a man.” With those words she began hitting my ass with one of the whips. Over and over she hit me until she was exhausted. Resting for a moment, she wanted to know which whip made the scars on my bottom. After the beating she had given me I was afraid to tell her which one it was. She said she was going to leave permanent marks on my ass and it would be easier on me if I told her which one to use. I admitted it was the thin rubber one with the sharp edges and prepared myself for the worst. It took six strokes until before she was satisfied that the cuts left on my cheeks would remain for all to see. Then she excused herself and didn’t return for almost an hour.

When she came back her faced was flushed and her attitude had changed. She was most apologetic and began treating the injuries she inflicted on my bottom. She claimed she had never done anything like that before and couldn’t explain what had come over her.

“I am so sorry, please don’t report me, I just wanted it so much. I know you’ve never done anything to me but other men have, and I just have this anger, this pain, I want to get out,” she tried to explain.

My bottom burned, I had been beaten before but never by someone who enjoyed it so much. This woman had been hurt by men and she needed to get back at them. She should have been a professional dominatrix. Then it struck me, why not ask her about doing what she did to me and getting paid for it. She needed the money and the other half of the basement would make a lovely dungeon. A simple web site on the internet and she could be on her way. Opportunist that I am, I would be her partner, help train her and provide protection when she had clients. First, I had to get her to untie me.

Once we began to discuss my proposal she quickly recoiled. She would not engage in prostitution. I explained that a professional dominatrix does not have sex with clients and just how profitable it could be. Then I proposed how we could be partners in this business venture.

“You may be my partner as long as you remain in complete chastity,” was her only reply, saying that there was no negotiation on the subject. My cock throbbed, trying to fill with blood, but all I felt was pain.

Putting together the website and email address was the easy part. Making the other half of the basement into a proper dungeon was much more difficult. Prospective clients were requesting appointments before the room was ready.

Then there was educating Ms. Silva in the various desires of her clients. We worked out was a check list of requests for clients. Then I would have Ms. Silva practice on me before the client’s arrival. She was a fast learner but often I suffered because of her high level of enthusiasm. Allowing her to practice branding me because a high paying client wanted it was more than I could take and I passed out from the pain before she finished. When I regained consciousness I caught Ms. Silva with her thong pulled down and her hand vigorously rubbing her clit to orgasm. She no longer seemed to care if I knew how much she got off on hurting men.

I had expected Ms. Silva to object to the clothing I thought she should wear for her sessions. Instead she embraced the opportunity to try on and wear some of the most revealing things possible. She had no reservations about stripping down in front of me to try on each new purchase. She would often remark to the salesgirls how convenient it was having me chastised, often encouraging the women to feel the steel tube that held my cock.

As we developed a stable cliental, we made more and more money. Ms. Silva insisted that I quit my regular job and work full time with her. She began to treat me more submissively than before. She liked me to be naked except for my steel encased cock and wanted me in the dungeon while she dealt with clients starting that night.

That evening I was gagged and chained to a bondage cross while she worked on clients. I was ignored, until a special client wanted to finish with an orgasm. Ms. Silva comely explained that she did not engage in sex with clients. The man walked over to where I was chained to the cross. First he investigated my chastity device by pulling it back between my legs and trying to pull my penis off the spike that held it securely. I could only endure the pain as Ms. Silva let him play with me.

“What about him” asked the client? “He doesn’t look like he gets much sex locked up like that.”

“Enjoy yourself, he’s gagged and shouldn’t complain too much,” was her reply. “Oh, lube him up well before you fuck him, I have two more sessions tonight and I might let them have a go at his ass too.”

It only took the man a few strokes before he shot his load up my greased butt hole. I was still in pain while his come slid down my legs. I had never imagined that Ms. Silva would sell the use of my body as part of our business. After the client left she came over to me and commented on how she was paid double because I was an available fuck to provide a happy ending. Then she poured a bucket of water on my ass to wash me off in preparation for her next client.

She offered my ass to the next client who promptly shoved his hard cock up my ass as he played with my chastity device. Ms. Silva told the client that if he would like, he could be fixed with a chastity device too. She bragged that she had kept me in chastity for over six months and had no intention of allowing me to ever have another orgasm. From the erect cock of the client it was clear that he liked the idea. She measured his unit carefully and sent him on his way with instructions to get his penis pierced.

It was the last client that unnerved me the most. After slamming into my butt for the longest time he wanted to see more of my chastity device. Ms. Silva unlocked me so that the man could examine things more closely. She had me lay down on a stretcher rack where she fixed my hands and feet before pulling me tight. The client seemed to enjoy pulling on my exposed testicles and trying to make my cock hard.

“Why do you keep him chastised,” he wanted to know?

“It keeps him secure so that I never have to feel threatened,” was her reply, “and it pleases me to watch him suffer.”

“It would be simple to just have him fixed. It’s a very easy operation, two little slits, one on each side of his scrotum and pop his balls out, tie the tubes, then cut off the balls, and a few stitches later, he’s all done. I’d be happy to do him for you. After a month or so he will be so docile you could let all your clients finish in him,” said the man, “and if you never nutted a man before it is a real rush. If you want, I could do him tonight, I just need a few things from my office,” said the client.

The man was a medical doctor that did castrations on the side. He loved BDSM and had modified several men in the past and all he asked for in payment for taking out my balls was a few free sessions.

Ms. Silva was in heaven. She had men paying her huge sums to beat them, to hurt their cock and balls, and when she felt like it, she fucked their asses with a strap-on. Having control and the ability to whip men was almost everything she wanted, until now. Now she needed to castrate me. She looked so excited about it I knew I was about to loose my balls.

She unlocked and removed my chastity device for the first time in over six months.

“There, now doesn’t that feel better?” She said. “You are never going to need to wear it again.”

Continuing she said, “Well here is how it is going to be. I think our partnership has been a success. The more I’ve experienced and read the better I feel. It has been a real education. Now I know there is one thing I still need to do. I don’t need a partner anymore so I am going to change you into my eunuch. I’ve kept you from having an orgasm for six months and now I’m going to fix you so you can never have an orgasm again. I’m going to take your balls and I would like to have your penis removed or at least cut back to a stump. This is going to be so perfect.”

I was scared, I had created a monster. I was soon to be a eunuch for the rest of my life and all it meant to her was it made things more convenient.

I heard the door bell ring and knew it might be the doctor returning to castrate me. She explained that she had told the doctor that I wanted to be castrated and that he was doing me a favor. I struggled as much as I was able until she warned that she could tell the doctor I wanted to be castrated without any anesthetic. I was going to be emasculated either way.

Turning to Ms. Silva the doctor said, “You are going to be so much happier once he’s fixed. After a month he will be so docile you’ll wish you had him nutted right away. What did he decide; does he want to feel it when he’s castrated?”

“Yes he wants to feel the pain when you cut his balls off. He may struggle but go ahead, he wants it,” was her reply.

The doctor set out his equipment and proceeded to swab disinfectant on my cock and balls.

“I’m going to cut open the scrotum now, do you want to watch?” asked the doctor.

Ms. Silva came closer to get a better view. She rested her hand on my forehead and commented how this was a dream come true and more men should be castrated.

I didn’t feel the surgeons cut at first, then it burned like hell. I tried to move but was held in place by all the restraints. Within a minute the doctor had pulled one of my testicles free and held it up for all to see. Its stretched cords were tied but still connected and the doctor wanted to know if Ms. Silva wanted to do the honors.

She leaned in and quickly cut the ball free from my body. Then she asked if she could do the other testicle herself. Passing her the scalpel, the doctor pointed to the place on the other side of the scrotum that needed to be cut open. She sliced it open with a single cut. The pain shot through my body causing me to go ridged.

“I hope he enjoys lots of pain, what we are doing to him hurts like hell,” volunteered the doctor.

“From what I’ve read, it helps the eunuch to fully understand how he is being modified. Besides he insisted on feeling everything being done to him,” Ms. Silva lied.

She cut the membranes free and pulled the other testicle out before she cut it off. I soon passed out from the pain.

When I awoke I was in a bed feeling no pain probably from drugs. I reached down to check my genitals and found only bandages. A plastic tube from between my legs ran to a bag on the side of the bed. There was also a new collar around my neck with a short chain connected to the headboard of the bed.

A few minutes later, Ms. Silva came in to ask how I was feeling. I was drowsy but angry at what she had done to me. When I started to complain she said that once the rest of the testosterone was out of my system I would feel differently.

“You ought to thank me, after you passed out I let the doctor give you anesthetics so he could fix you the way I wanted. You missed it when I got to cut your cock. It came out in one piece, all the way to the root. Your scrotum is gone and you have a new opening to pee from. You have been neutered and modified and I love having done it to you,” she said. “Every man should be fixed like you’ve been.”

I had to stay in bed for more than a week before the doctor returned to inspect his work. I told him that I hadn’t wanted to be castrated. All he did was laugh saying it was a little too late to try to put things back.

Ms. Silva kept me as her personal servant and as an available vessel for men’s ejaculate. I was moved into her apartment where I slept on a pad in her room carefully chained to the floor. I lost all interest in sex but Ms. Silva’s use of her whips kept me obedient and useful in the dungeon. At the end of each session, the client was given the choice of having me give them a blow job or letting them butt fuck me. Most clients chose being whipped while they pumped in and out of my ass.

Ms. Silva enjoyed many years of success and after making enough money decided to end her practice. Closing things down took a bit of time until there was just me remaining.

It was a Tuesday that Ms. Silva brought a piece of paper for me to sign. After I scribbled my full name on the bottom of the sheet she had me go down to the dungeon. There she cuffed my hands behind my back and had me stand on a chair. She placed a noose around my neck. I asked her what she was doing.

“You have been a good slave, you taught me so much, now I need to move on and unfortunately you are no longer needed. From your suicide note it’s clear that you don’t want to go on without me, thank you for signing it at the bottom. I’ll leave it here with you.”

And then she kicked the chair out from underneath me.