My name is Thecia and I’m a 31 year old underground cutter. I’m an engineer and I travel a lot for my regular career, but I also travel to de-ball men.

I do a lot of work in oil refineries as a consulting engineer.

I was working in NJ at a big refinery when I met Leona, a production operator there. She was a young mother and widow whose husband had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. She was of Puerto Rican descent with a killer body.

She had been arrested for drunk driving shortly after learning of her husband’s death. Her mother was watching the child and she had a few drinks to try and drown the sorrow. In some justice overkill she was sentenced to five years probation.

All went well after that and she got along well with her probation officer.

A local cop who I will call Officer Ryan knew of her woes and also fancied her sexually. One night he stopped her outside of her apartment, put her against a wall and searched her, while doing so he planted a small bag of Crack Cocaine in her purse. He told her that the coming five years in jail would be a long time away from her daughter. He also made it clear that there was a way to make it go away.

In fear of losing her daughter, Leona simply bowed to his wishes and blew him. She hated the smell of his cock and the vile taste of his semen gagged her.

At least three times a week officer Ryan found the need to have his balls drained. Sometimes with a blow job and sometimes he would fuck her in whatever hole he fancied.

One evening, over coffee, she confided in me, first about the ongoing rape and then how she contemplated killing herself because of this abuse and degradation.

She, of course, had no knowledge of my avocation as a cutter.

The little wheels in my head began to turn.

When he required his blow job it was usually in a police cruiser, but when he fucked her he had access to a small bunk room off of a boiler room in a nearby apartment house.

With the help of my friend and woman’s advocate Dr. Pann I had a key made for the boiler room.

When Officer Ryan wanted to get his rocks off he would ring her apartment and say, “It’s time.”

I waited in my rental car for seven nights. Twice in that time he called her and she sucked him off in his patrol car, on the seventh night he told her to meet her at the, “Château,” a code word for the boiler room.

Having covered my head with a ski mask, I hid behind one of the four boilers and waited. He unlocked the door and she entered first. He told her to, “Get the clothes off!” He dropped his pants but kept the rest of his uniform on. He was a good looking man with a good sized dick, I couldn’t help but wonder why he would resort to rape.

He wasted no time, he put his dick to her mouth and said, “Prime it for me.” She dutifully sucked him until he roughly pushed her back on the bunk and without lube or foreplay, drove his big dick into tight little pussy.

Her shapely legs were up in the air and I could see his large balls slamming against her tiny asshole. He was pounding her hard when he stopped his movement and grunted, “I’m cumming.”

At that moment the needles of my Taser hit him square in the butt. The 50,000 volts cause him to convulse and he fell to the floor, his big dick still spewing jizz.

I discarded his guns, both the holstered one and the ankle piece. I used his own handcuffs to bind his hands to the metal bunk and clothesline to tie his feet. I told Leona to beat it and she grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room. I waited for him to recover with the look of anticipation emanating from my face.

He struggled a little but soon realized that he was not going anywhere. I had a tee shirt on and jeans, I lifted my shirt, exposing my 34-C breasts. I asked him what was wrong with me and why wouldn’t he fuck me, as I was willing and the girl that just left was not. He asked if I was, “some kind of kinky broad.” And I nodded yes.

I took his recently spent dick in my hand and worked it for him. In record time it was hard as a rock.

I slipped my mouth over his prominent helmet and began to suck in earnest. It wasn’t long before his balls tightened (I had my hand encircling them) and his more than ample load began to pump from deep in his balls. I felt the first spurt hit the back of my throat and as the second shot began to pump I pulled his big gonads away from his body and with my other hand, brought my straight razor across the neck of his nutsack, The sack, balls and all, severed with the one swipe. His jizz continued to pump, but now I could sense the acrid taste of blood along with the normal gamey taste of cum.

When he stopped pulsing, I spit the blood/cum mixture onto his face and held his former balls up for him to see. They would display nicely preserved in a peanut butter jar filled with formaldehyde.

I said, “Though luck sailor.” And laughed.

I bound his wound to stem the bleeding, I didn’t want him to die. It would be hard enough for him to explain to his bosses how he ended up in a boiler room without his pants and without his balls.

I drove home, but I stopped at a bar called, My Father’s Place and had a bacon cheese burger with a Corona beer complete with a tiny slice of lime. I always get hungry when I de-ball a man.

Leona read about it in the paper and was quite relieved. I never let on that I had anything to do with it.

Respectfully submitted,

Thecia