Alison

Of course, the Equal Opportunities Board insist that at least fity percent of any company's male employees have to be eunuchs, and my role, as Selection Officer, is to decide which half of each batch of new recruits get castrated, and which half remain whole.

I don't ever use the word 'male'. To me, a man is either a eunuch or an entire.

They are all entires when they walk through the door, so I have compiled a list of criteria with which to conclude each one's fate.

I could, of course, decide arbitrarily, which would certainly save me a lot of time: if ten recruits are lined up in front of me (as is generally the case on a typical morning or afternoon) I could simply order the gelding of the five on the right, or the five shortest, or the five with the palest skins, whatever I liked. But I pride myself on being more consciencious than that.

I insist on evaluating each recruit thoroughly: his penis size - length AND width, limp AND erect; his sexual endurance - how long he can resist orgasm with his manhood in my mouth; and the taste of his semen - sweet, sour or just right.

On completetion of the tests, each recruit gets a mark out of 100, and only the lowest fifty percent of each intake are consigned to the company castratress.

When I've made my decisions I stand in front of the new recruits and call out their names in alphabetical order, sending each to either the left or right hand side of the room, without giving them any clue as to which group is which. The entires are then lead away to start immediate work on the production lines, and when I am alone with the prospective eunuchs, I casually announce their fate.

I don't do any castrating myself (not at work, anyway). I merely enjoy the power of making the deciding the fates of thousands.

Alison