He rang the doorbell – he wasn’t allowed to have a front door key – and waited with dread.

The door opened and in the doorframe stood his wife Doneeta, glowering at him.

“Ten minutes late home from work! I thought I told you never to dawdle!”

“There was a truck that overturned on the freeway,” Bill said meekly, a second before a slap exploded on his right cheek.

“That’s for being late!” Doneeta said, and her hand was already exploding on the other cheek,

“An that’s for making excuses! Didn’t I tell you never to make excuses?”

“Y-yes dear...”

“Yes dear, yes dear,” Doneeta sneered. “What a worm! Just for that after you do the rest of the housework you can wash the windows. ”

Naturally it never occurred to Bill to point out that he had washed the windows yesterday. His ass was still red from his last whipping.

* * *

Such was CEO Bill Brown’s daily married life. But the next day was something special.

The temptation was just too strong. It was the Super bowl, after all, and football had been his lifelong passion. As he sat in front of the chair, with the remote in his hand, the risk he was running made the game even more thrilling.

That was until a box on the right ear from behind sent the remote flying from his hand. Naturally a box on the other ear followed. His wife had come home early from the beauty parlor and sneaked up on him, as she liked to do. That was why their home had wall-to-wall carpeting instead of more fashionable parquet flooring.

“Pig! You pig!” Doneeta snarled as the strode in front of him. “I thought I told you were never to watch sports! How dare you disobey me! Get up!”

Bill did so, knowing what was coming, and come it did, a drop kick right in the balls from his wife’s Jimmy Choo high-heeled shoe. The pain was unspeakable and Bill dropped to the floor. As he lay writhing there, he expected another kick to follow but it did not.

“No, for willful disobedience you deserve more than kicking and a lot more than one of your standard whippings.”

Doneeta walked over to the phone and dialed a number that she had obviously memorized for the occasion. It was a speakerphone, and she put the speaker on.

“Geldings R Us Castration Clinic. How can I help you?” a female voice on the other end of the line said.

“Listen, this is something of an emergency in terms of husband control. Is there a really long waiting list?”

A pause, and then Bill heard the female voice on the other end say, “you’re in luck madam. Normally there is a two-week wait, since there’s such a demand. But we’ve had a cancellation. Can you be here in forty minutes?”

“I sure can,” Doneeta replied, adding, “why would someone cancel?”

“The wife received a last minute invitation to a bridal shower she didn’t want to miss,” the female voice explained.

“Thanks,” Doneeta said. You can count on me. “ Then turning to Bill she said, “head for the car, pig!”

On the way there Doneeta drove, of course. Bill had had to hand his driver’s license over to her the day they were married. The seat belt that ran across his chest was chafing his neck. He sought to adjust it and was rewarded by Doneeta taking her right hand off the wheel and swinging her arm back so the fist she had made slammed into his solar plexus.

As Bill gasped for air he heard his wife say, “I thought I told you never to fidget!”

“S-sorry dear,” he gasped.

“Sorry dear, sorry dear,” she repeated in that sneering repetition of his words of submission that she so loved to do, and did so well, capturing all his cowering (and fully justified) fear of her.

Soon they were at the castration clinic, and Doneeta gave her name to the receptionist, who was the woman she had talked to on the phone.

“Is that the ‘patient’?” the receptionist asked with a sneering tone on the word patient.

“It’s the creep of a husband I’m stuck with and whom I’m having castrated, it that’s what you mean,” Doneeta said.

“That’s what I mean,” the receptionist said in a friendly tone of female solidarity.

They had not been in the waiting room for more than a few minutes when a door opened and a striking looking woman came out, accompanied by a bald little man. There was another woman in a white coat with them, obviously the castration surgeon.

“Good bye, Mrs. Jones,” the doctor said. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with him from now on.” The two women shook hands, and Mrs. Jones headed for the door followed by the little man with a hangdog expression on his face.

“Mrs. Brown? the female doctor said, “you can come in now.”

The hapless Bill followed his wife through the door.

“A castration, I take it?” the doctor said.

“Yes, a punishment castration. I caught him watching football, of all things!”

“Football!” the female doctor said in a tone that suggested that football was the stupidest of all the stupid things men are interested in. Then she added, “would you like a penectomy for him too? We’re having a special, so a penectomy is only half its usual price if done with a castration.”

“That sounds like a good deal. Would you take the whole stupid thing off?”

“I recommend leaving a one inch stub.”

“But won’t he still be able to masturbate with that?”

“With great difficulty, and if you catch him trying....”

Both women laughed. That would be just another reason to punish the dominated husband.

Naturally, in this exchange there was no mention of Doneeta missing Bill’s penis, since clearly in this marriage, or that involving any real woman, allowing the male to penetrate the wife was out of the question.

“You don’t use anesthetic, I take it?” Doneeta said.

“Of course not! What an idea, wasting anesthetic to save a male pain.”

Bill was forced to lie down on an operating table. There was little prepping to do, as he had been forced to have all his pubic hair removed by electrolysis after getting married. A nurse appeared and fastened the straps that held down his wrists and ankles. Bill felt a searing pain as his scrotum was slit open. He could also feel his nuts being taken from his sac.

“There, they’re gone,” the doctor said. Then she went to work slicing off his cock one inch from the base. It was quick work, but very painful, and was followed by the even more painful removal of his scrotum.

“Now for the green laser,” the doctor said, referring to the remarkable invention that instantly sealed incisions.

“That’s an amazing invention,” Doneeta said, “but isn’t it a waste of electricity just to spare the male post operational pain?

“In a sense, but look at it this way. You can set him to work at once doing his full quota of household chores. I’m sure there’s no lack of those for him.”

“You can believe that!” Doneeta said with a laugh.

On the way home, the cross strap of the seat belt again chafed Bill’s neck, but he was smart enough not to touch it. Men might be stupid, but like animals can be taught through punishment.

“Well, hubby darling, now that you’ve been fixed, you can concentrate on your chores. It’s been a whole day since you vacuumed the house, and mowed the lawn with the hand mower, and those windows have been getting dirty for two whole days.”

“Y-yes dear,” the newly castrated Bill said.

“Yes dear! Yes dear!” Doneeta sang out in a sneering tone, and as the gazed through the window and saw the car devouring the road, and thought about her eunuch husband sitting beside her, she reflected for the umpteenth time how wonderful it was to be a woman!