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It's come this far today: Today, they're coming to fetch me for castration. For three days I've been waiting in my cell.
Yesterday a female attendant came to tell me that my plea for mercy had been rejected and that I would be fetched today. First I'll be shaved and then taken for castration. It's shortly before ten. They'll be here soon. Everything is quiet. Suddenly, I hear the click of high heels that are slowly approaching. It's them. A pair of them are on their way. They stop outside my cell. The door is opened and the two female attendants step in. The grab me immediately. They tug me out into the passageway. They tell me that I cannot defend myself against them. In case I should try anything stupid, they would punish me with electric prods. The show me the equipment. One of the two holds her prod between my legs and gives me a shock that takes my breath away. Without resistance, I let myself by led by them through a long corridor into a small room. There a third woman is already waiting for us. The attendants strap me firmly onto a processing chair and tell their colleague that she can begin. She begins work immediately. It's her job to shave me. She tilts the back of the chair down and brings me to a nearly prone position. Now she takes an electric razor, kneels before me and begins to shave of my pubic hair with it. While she's at it she doesn't look at me. To her, I don't seem to be present at all. Just my lower body takes up all her attention. She begins with the hair above my penis. She takes my member firmly in hand and removes the hair around it. Then she raises it to get a clear view of my scrotum. The entire shave lasts about five minutes. The woman is finished. She releases my penis, stands up and makes room tor the two attendants, who unstrap me from the chair. They grab me and leave the room with me. Again we walk through various corridors, until we reach a steel door in front of which the attendants stop. A red light over the door indicates that behind it a castration is in progress. We wait. Several minutes pass and finally the light goes out and the door is opened. It begins: I'm led into the room in which in just a few minutes my castration will take place. In the middle of this room is an operating table on wheels. On its sides are straps with which men can be fastened to it. The castration will be carried out by two scantily clad young women. Both wear only a bikini and high-heeled shoes. The one, a redhead, is the actual castratrix; the other, a blonde, assists her while during the operation. The two women strap me onto the operating table. My arms and legs are tied tightly to it, so that I can no longer move. I am no longer able to escape my fate. In barely a minute they will begin to remove my balls. It would be senseless to beg these women for mercy. Castration is fun for them. The fear of their victims gives them pleasure. With great care they carry out each hand movement. Everything is perfectly positioned. I notice that they have already carried out many emasculations. They begin: Next, I get an anesthetic. The redhead takes a syringe, grasps my balls, raises them, sticks the needle into my scrotum and gives me a shot of anesthetic. She tells me that in two minutes I won't feel a thing down there. A few seconds pass without anything happening. Then the injection gradually begins to take effect. Everything gets numb. I no longer feel my penis and testicles. The redhead takes a needle and sticks me behind the scrotum to determine to her satisfaction that I can't feel pain any longer. Now she can begin with the actual castration. In the meantime the blonde has prepared everything. On a small wheeled wagon are the utensils needed for my castration. The redhead takes a flat elongated bowl and places it between my legs. In it my genitals are to be placed after they've been cut off. Then she grabs a knife and starts. With her left hand she lightly raises my balls in order better to be able to remove them. With her right hand she places the knife behind my scrotum and positions it for cutting. The blade now touches my skin. Slowly she lets it penetrate. She directs the cut precisely. Inch by inch whe works through skin, blood vessels and cords. After a brief minute my scrotum has been removed from my body. The redhead holds my balls in her hand. With a smile, she lays them into the bowl. Next, it's my penis's turn. She grips it, pulls on it a bit, places the knife up against the root and slices it off with a short, clean cut. She places it, too, into the bowl. Now the redhead has to close my wound. She ties off the blood vessels, closes the opening with clamps and finally puts a large bandage between my legs. There's nothing left down there. It is done: My castration is over. The redhead sets the bowl containing my penis and testicles aside. The blond takes them and proceeds directly with their destruction. A machine that's similar to a meat grinder serves the purpose. She fills it with my genitals and starts the apparatus up. AFter five seconds it's over: My penis and testicles have been chopped up. The ground genitals fall into a large container, where they are immediately miexed up with the remains of the previous castrations. The entire mass will later be disposed of in an oven. The two attendants come in again. I'm still lying there, tightly tied to the operating table. They take me and roll me back into my cell. The shove me in, turn off the light and close the doors. I am alone again.
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