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A small item on the second page of the morning paper reported, Another Naked Man Found Wandering On The Highway. The article went on to say that he had been whipped severely, and castrated. Who could be doing this? Why was it being done? All the men could report was that they were trapped by a band of women riding motorcycles, and wearing black leather from head to foot, even their heads were covered with black leather hoods. The men could not even give the police the license plate numbers of the motorcycles as they were covered. Only I, and a few of the other women who belong to Dykes, on Bikes, a lesbian motorcycle club, could give that information. You see we are The Emasculators. We prowl the night looking for men to castrate, batter, and bloody. Not just any man is the target of our hunt. We hunt those men who prey on, and abuse women. If a man fails to satisfy his wife, or girlfriend in any way. If he cheats on her. If he hits her, or yells at her. If he fails to give her proper respect, and obedience. If he pimps her, or rapes her he is high on our list for feminine justice. If he has been arrested for any crime against a woman, he is ours to deal with when the authorities release him. He might be acquitted by the courts, but not by us. Even if we do not see it ourselves but have heard about it we take action. Men who mistreat women. Men who abuse women. men who do not satisfy women. Do not deserve to be men, so we take their manhood away from them. His name is Mike, but now it might as well be Michelle. He had been arrested for raping a teenage girl. She had picked him out in a police lineup, and his DNA verified that he was the rapist. Yet at the trial his slick lawyer managed to convince enough on the jury that is was the girls fault she was raped. If she was not so pretty. If she was not wearing a mini skirt. If she had not smiles on the street. If she had not refused his sexual advances. He would not have had to rape her. It was all her fault, and he should not be held to blame for what she did. It was the old story blame the victim, and not the rapist. The jury was hung, and he was released on bail pending a new trial. One of our members attended the trial. She followed him to a bar where he celebrated his victory. She called me, and I made plans for him. Plans to mete out our kind of feminine justice. Later that night when he left the bar, drunk, and unsteady on his feet, we were ready for him. Four of us dressed in our leathers, and masked waited in a dark alley for him to pass. As he reeled past us, he was grabbed, overpowered, bound, gagged, and a hood was placed over his head. The hood was so that he would not know where we were taking him. That way he could not lead the police back to us. He was then bundled into the trunk of a waiting car, and driven by a roundabout route to the warehouse we rented to use as a base of operations. Once in the warehouse we sliced all his clothing off him, and through the rags out. Naked, still bound, gagged, and hooded, we through him into a holding cage to sober up. We wanted him fully aware of what we were going to do to him. We wanted him sober so he could suffer, and feel the pain of our feminine retribution. We wanted him to pay dearly for what he did to that girl. He would remain in the holding cage for two days. At no time would he be untied, or the gag and hood removed. Even if the hood should fall off, all he would see was the inside of the warehouse. We made it a point never to be where he could see us without our masks. We never said anything where he could hear us. We did not want him to be able to identify us by our voices. At no time during the two days was he given anything to eat or drink. At the end of the two days, we waited for night. Then still bound, gagged, and hooded, he was stuffed head first into the sidecar of one of our motorcycles, and covered with a tarp. We took him for a ride out of town to a secluded rural road near the main highway. Once there we dragged him into a clump of trees so we could be out of sight from the road. Selecting a large tree we threw a rope over one of the limbs, and tying it to his wrist bindings, we hoisted him off the ground. We pounded stakes into the ground. Tied ropes to the stakes, and untied his ankles. We then tied his ankles to the stakes spreading his legs wide. Now the hood was removed but the gag was left in place. All he could see was a group of women dressed from top of head to bottom of foot in black leather. The terrified look in his eyes was delicious. I took a dull hunting knife from the sheaf on my belt, and waved it in front of his face. As terrified as he was before I could see that his terror was increasing. I rubbed the blade of the knife across his chest. I rubbed it across his belly. While I was rubbing the blade of the knife on him one of the other women was playing a recording of the only words he would hear from us. The recording was made using an electronic filter to disguise the voice. It said, This is for the girl you raped. I then gently moved the point of the knife just above his penis, and on his inner thighs. He now understood what we were going to do with him. He would have pleaded for mercy if not for the gag. Mercy was the last thing we were going to show him. He did not show the girl mercy when he raped her. His castration would not be the sweet, soft , loving castrations I performed on my eunuch slaves. My dear precious eunuchs who voluntarily offered me the greatest gift they could give to show their undying love, and devotion for me. His castration would not be done with the skill of a surgeon using sharp scalpels, and medical attention near by. Unlike my precious eunuch slaves he would not be offered pain killers or anesthetics before performing their act of devotion. He had acted like an animal. His castration would be like an animal. I would castrate him like I would butcher a side of meat. Worse I would crush his balls, and use a dull knife to increase the pain level. Yes he would pay, and pay dearly for what he had done to that girl. I reached between his legs, and took his balls in hand. I squeezed them as hard as I could. The gag prevented him from crying out, but the tears in his eyes showed me he was in pain. I twisted the scrotum one way then the other while still squeezing his balls. I dug my long sharp finger nails into his scrotum drawing blood. Ne of the women handed me a carpenters clamp. I placed it on his left ball, and tightened it. His body bucked as I turned the handles. There was a squishy sound followed by a pop as his ball burst. The pain he was feeling was so intense that he fainted. An ammonia ampule was snapped under his nose I wanted him awake as I crushed his right ball. When he regained his senses I used the clamp on his right ball. Again he fainted, again ammonia was used to revive him. This time when he woke I took his scrotum in hand, and using the dull knife sawed it off. I let the bloody mess drop to the ground, as another woman used a propane torch to cauterize the wound burning his penis in the process. Again he fainted. Again he was revived. It was time for the last part of his punishment. We formed a circle around him. Each of us held a whip. In turn we took our strokes. We continued to whip him till there was no part of his body not covered with bruises, welts, and bloody whip cuts. He fainted one last time. Only this time we did not revive him. We cut him down from the tree. The bonds and gag were removed. The stakes were pulled out of the ground. We cleaned up the area placing anything that could be traced back to us in the motorcycle sidecar. One of the women picked up the bloody mess that were once his scrotum, and balls. She put them into a plastic bag, and the bag into her motorcycle saddlebags. We mounted our bikes and rode off. I asked the woman who had taken the bloody mess what she was going to do with it. Feed it to my dog, she replied. We all laughed as we went off to celebrate. I can only assume that when he regained his senses he crawled off to the highway where he was found bruised, battered, bloody, and ball less. Once again feminine justice had been done by The Emasculators. Remember all you men out there, do not rape, or abuse a woman. Do not hit her. Do not yell at her. Do not cheat on her. Do not leave her unsatisfied. Always treat her with the utmost respect. Always cater to her wishes. Always obey her. Or you too will be captured bt The Emasculators. |