French Castrator, The

The old familiar excitement began to grow in her belly as her plane took off from Paris. Monica had lost track of how many times she had set out on similar journeys. The ache in her belly was still the same. She sat back in her first class seat and sipped her wine. She was one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in Europe now. A long way from her time in French Intelligence, and those years in Algeria. How those years had effected the rest of her life, she thought to herself.

She had been so young then, thirty years ago. But now at fifty five, it was all still with her , the memories just as vivid. The memories of the things she had seen, and the things she had done, still started that warm glow between her legs. She had beeen sent to that building at the military camp with a radio message for the Commander. But she knew that it had been a ruse. Her superiors had arranged that. She smiled to herself now as she recalled how shocked she had been when she entered that cellar. There had been three men in the room, and a woman from the interrogation section.

But it was the three naked native boys tied in the heavy wooden chairs that made her stand and stare, her mouth open. The naked boys were no more than thirteen or fourteen. She stared at the blood on the floor between their legs. " What are you doing, what have you done to them?" she stammered.

The woman, Carla, took her arm and led her into the cellar.

"You should not be so shocked; this is an interrogation centre, not a holiday camp. I am being transferred shortly, they need my skills elsewhere. You are to be my replacement in Interrogation so get used to it. You see, they need a woman to perform , how shall I put it, 'certain delicate tasks' in the interrogation area".

"What kind of task?" Monica had asked, confused now.

Carla smiled evilly. "Well you see my dear, when we bring prisoners in here we have to ...er, `persuade` them to talk sometimes. And much of that persuasion centers on their male parts, if you know what I mean. That`s why the top brass want a woman for the job, they are of the opinion that women are better at that sort of thing. To put it bluntly you will be required to torture their penises and testicles in order to make them talk. You will also be required to go all the way with this if it is needed".

Monica had listened dumbfounded.

"What do you mean, `go all the way`?" she stammered.

Carla took an object from the table and showed it to her.

"You must be prepared to use this," she smiled. Monica loked at the bloodstained scalpel in her hand. " What is that for?" she asked. The three men laughed.

"This is for that delicate task I spoke about, I call it my little persuader, this is what you use when you castrate them. These three boys here have just been introduced to the `persuader`."

She pointed to the unconsious boys in the chairs. Monica stood spellbound. " You mean, you mean, you gelded them, you gelded them," she stuttered.

Carla smiled patiently. " Yes Dear, if you like, I gelded them, call it what you like, gelded, castrated, cut, what does it matter? There are three pairs of boyish little stones in that jar on the table over there."

To be continued.