Castrating a Rich Asian Faggot Bitch

You should have seen him in drag smoking a cigarette. He dressed like a girl, had all the gestures just perfect, but he had this haughty rich-bitch air about him. When he wasn’t in drag, he would mince around limp-wristed and smile at anyone with a dick. It wasn’t long after he moved into our building that he hooked up with this older guy who used to squire him around like he had something.

One day they were talking in the lobby. The little rich fag was telling his boyfriend that he was forbidding him to come by to see him while his family was in town visiting. It went like this. “Oh, I just don’t know when they’ll drop by, so it’s best if you stay away ‘til I call you, Eddie.” “Whassa matter you ashamed of me or something?” “Oh, no no Eddie. It’s just that I don’t want to lose face in front of my family. Things are different in my country. Please try to understand.” “Yeah, yeah. OK – call me after they leave.”

The next thing I hear from one of the porters is that his family is relocating him to the Los Angeles. He’s mincing around looking very down. Eddie is helping him pack, but looks as if he could be glad to be getting rid of him.

Suddenly, I get an idea. Why not a little going away party, with just the little bitch and me attending. This, I decide, I really want to do. Hell, it’s just the perfect entertainment for me. I sit down and start thinking. First, I have to put a little kit together. I make a list and realize I’m short a few items, so I go buy a cheap black wig, a full face mask, some surgical gloves and a nice high-voltage stun gun. The rest I’ve got. I used to be the bouncer in a downtown S&M bar where they nutted a slave every once in a while. I learned how to do it and developed quite a taste for the procedure, so to speak. This little bitch certainly didn’t need balls for any reason, so why not harvest myself a little fresh appetizer meat? Yeah!

He lives six flights up from me and there’s a video camera in the elevator, so I’m going to have to walk up there and back down. After a few days, I’ve got his schedule. He’s in on week nights by around midnight. If no one comes in with him, he’ll be alone all night. I wait outside the building across the street and watch until he goes in. He’s alone. I walk in a few minutes later, say “Goodnight” to the doorman and take the elevator up to my apartment. There, I put on my mask, wig and surgical gloves, pick up my kit bag, which is wrapped in a large gift box and head up the stairs to his floor. I knock on his door. “Delivery.” I say in a calm voice. “Just leave it there,” he says. “Sorry, sir, but you’ve got to sign.” My hand is in my pocket on the stunner. “Just a minute.” He opens the door dressed in a thigh-length lavender silk robe, open down to his navel. I say: “Here, sir,” handing him the box. He takes it, and I press the stunner to his neck and activate it. With a faint girlish shriek he falls to the floor, twitching. I catch the box, step inside, push him back into his apartment and close the door, quietly. He’s shuddering on the floor. I open the box and pull out a pair of handcuffs, a ball gag, a roll of duct tape and a box cutter. I turn him over, cuff his wrists behind his back, force the ball gag into his mouth and tape it in place with several wraps of duct tape around his head. Next I cover his eyes with the tape. It sure won’t do having him see me. Now for my favorite move. I pull a collapsible steel bar out of my kit and extend it to its full length. He’s got nothing on under his robe. Good. I raise the robe up under his armpits, then I sit on him and force one knee up so that it’s crook is almost behind his chest. I put the bar into the crook of his knee and slide the end under his back. Using the bar as a lever, I pull his knee back behind his back, then slide the bar over to where his other knee is. Using my hands, I force his knee back and then slide the bar over so that his knees are behind his back, held in place by the bar. In that position, he can’t do anything. Next, I run some duct tape around his ankles, so they’re held together. Now he’s trussed up like a turkey, with his genitals hanging out unprotected. The mask and wig are no longer needed. I take them off and step back to check my setup. Yes, he’s helpless, can’t see, and gagged. Here we go. With a pair of battery powered clippers from my kit, I quickly trim his pubes down short. Next I rub depilatory cream over his pubes and scrotum. He starts to move, so I stun him again, this time on his balls. The air rushes out of his nose and I can hear a muffled scream from behind the gag. He’s shuddering and helpless. After a five minute wait, I wet a washcloth from his bathroom and wipe off the cream. Everything’s nice and smooth down there now. Not a hair in sight. I paint his sac with antiseptic. With my sharp scalpel, I make a small cut in the bottom of his sac, down toward his asshole. Next, I put the point of my surgical scissors into the cut and move it up toward the front. With a few snips of the scissors, I’ve opened a slit about an inch long in his sac. My gloved fingers press first one, then the other testicle out of the slit in his sac. Just the sight of the two balls dangling there naked outside his sac makes my mouth water. He’s shaking his head “No.” Carefully, I pull his balls as far out as their cords will permit. They dangle there, just over his asshole. I put a clamp on each cord and snip off his nuts with my scissors. That done, I remove the clamps and let him bleed into a quart measuring cup from the kit. I want to leave him weak, but able to survive. The cup fills rapidly. I clamp off his cords and cauterize the ends with a miniature propane torch. I wash my gloved hands with alcohol, spray antiseptic over his wound, push the cords back into his body and glue the edges of the cut in his sack back together. The blood I pour into his toilet. I glance at my watch. From man to eunuch in just fifteen minutes. Subtract the five minutes for the depilatory cream to work and the entire operation was done in just ten minutes. He’s crying and moaning into the gag. I stun his dick and he shudders helplessly again. Time to pack up an go. I pick up his balls and drop them into a small container of wine vinegar to marinate for a meal later. My days of biting off a fresh set of balls and eating them immediately are long over, what with the risk of transmitting deadly disease. Now everything gets properly cooked. My new eunuch wants to be fucked! He’s raising his butt to offer me his hole. I slip a few gloved fingers in and move them around. He’s been fucked quite a bit. His hole is easy to open. I put in all my fingers and then my whole hand. I’ve got a hard on, but no condoms, so I don’t dare use my dick. I make a fist and pump in and out. His dick rises up and he shakes his ass, spurting a few jets of jit out that land on his taped-up face. I pull out my fist. Time to wash my hands and go.

Putting on my mask and wig and packing up my kit, I leave him there, completely trussed up, his asshole wide open from fist-fucking. Just before departing, I check the hall for activity. Silence. I walk over and dial 911 on his phone, lay the receiver on the table and walk quickly into the hall, leaving the door open a crack so the police can get in to find him easily. If he’s lucky, gay cops will investigate and maybe throw him a couple more fucks. It’s down the stairs to my place. Once inside, I relax. Boy was that ever satisfying fun. “Thanks for the meal, bitch,” I thought.