|
June convinced me to do it--to make a trip across the Atlantic and work with her at the Center for Testicular Punishment (CTP), a facility of the Institute for Male Correction (IMC). The Center needed a new castratrix. The last one transferred to a different facility, one that performs penectomies and full emasculations.
The IMC, for those of you who do not know, is the British conduct enforcement institution concerned with correcting undesirable behavior in men. Early in the 21st Century women recognized that a man's genitals are his most prized possession. They are the center of his identity--in short, a man is his penis; a man is his balls. Therefore, torture and removal of the distinguishing marks of a man's sex are the most mortifying, painful, and effective method of punishing him. The CTP disciplines men who have committed minor and moderate offenses--disrespect toward women, lackluster sexual performance, unfaithfulness to girlfriends, and other faux pas. The worst punishment the CTP may administer is a slow and agonizing castration. The other facility of the IMC, the one that performs penectomies and full emasculations, punishes major offenses. I expected June to meet me at the airport, instead I found an attractive young man (he couldn't have been over 20) wearing a sign bearing my name. Like most men his age, he wore nothing to conceal his clean-shaven boy parts. Upon recognizing me, he smiled. I shot a sexy smile back, which brought an erection to his penis. "Hello! I'm Sandie," I said and shook his dick in greeting--I enjoyed the feeling of his smooth, hard shaft so hot in my hand. I could tell by his expression that the contact was pleasurable for him as well. He told me his name was Tom and took my bags. I followed him out to the car, his hardened cock leading the way. I rode in the rear passenger side as he drove me to the CTP. "June was sorry she couldn't greet you personally, but her morning schedule didn't permit it," he said. "That's all right. . . . tell me, are the other interns as cute as you?" He blushed. I eyed his erection. It displayed itself prominently even as he drove. "All the other interns are girls," he said with a toothy grin. "They seem cute enough to me." "I suppose working at the Center keeps your cock hard most of the day," I said, licking my lips. He had a handsome, boyish face. I imagined taking his hot rod into my mouth and squeezing his ass cheeks. "Not as much as at first," he replied matter-of-factly.
"You must get blue balls just the same," I said, feeling genuine sympathy. "Do you get some relief? A handjob or a blowjob, perhaps?" He blushed again. "Umm . . . once in awhile I get lucky . . . some of the girls make jokes about permanently removing my need for release." "I bet they do," I laughed. "Well, if they aren't very generous with the sexual favors I bet you have to masturbate a lot." Unless I was mistaken, his dork seemed to be straining harder than when we first got into the car. "Not as much as I used to, Ms. Charles," he said with a sigh. ----------- The lobby of the CTP resembled a hospital lobby--a few chairs, a watercooler, and a reception desk staffed by a young woman in scrubs. The walls shimmered clinical white. Behind and above the woman at the desk, the wall bore, in large letters, Center for Testicular Punishment. Tom led me inside, his dick still thrusting forward. As we entered the lobby, an elevator opened and disgorged a handful of very young women. About half of them wore mint blue scrubs but the other half wore especially brief white bikinis that left little of their lower bodies to the imagination while concealing and supporting their breasts like sports bras. Their animated conversations lulled for a moment when they caught sight of us. They whistled, leered, and lewdly called out to the intern: "Hey Tom! Gonna' poke somebody's eye out with that!" "Is that June's new girl? I hear her first job is to fix you!" Tom bore up under it, smiling and ignoring them. We rode the elevator up to the third floor and, as the door opened, June greeted me. She wore the same outfit I'd seen earlier--a sexy white bikini and a white top like a sports bra which made her double-D tits look even bigger. She completed the ensemble with white boots. The white looked good with her light skin and fair hair. After we embraced, June dismissed Tom and we chatted briefly about my trip. Before long, our conversation turned to the business at hand. "Am I going to have to wear an outfit like you're wearing?" I asked. "You'll have to wear one similar most of the time--all torturers and castratrixes are required to wear white bikinis and supporting tops. When you perform the actual castrations you are free to work in the nude, of course," she said, her eyes shimmering along with her smile. Well, I thought, I guess that won't be bad . . . just different. I didn't have any objection to dressing sexy, and the men would be restrained.
"I've never actually cut a man before you know," I hesitated. June gave me a sly look. "I think you'll do just fine," she said. "Now let me take you to a barber." "Barber? What for?" "You need a shave," June replied. She led me down a hall and into what resembled a pre-surgery prep room. A young woman in scrubs stood next to a reclining table. She seemed to be expecting me. She glowed with saccharine teen prettiness. "You'll need to strip, Dear," June told me. "In front of this kid?" I hissed. "Sandie, she's a barber. She's going to shave off all your body hair. It's a sanitary thing--besides, she's female just like you and me." "But June," I whispered, pleading, "She's just a girl--she hardly has boobs. She probably doesn't even know what an orgasm is." "Sandie, she is my personal barber--she is the only one I permit to shave my pussy; I think you can trust her with yours." ----------- The girl did a good job, actually. I was nervous when I first saw the straight-edge razor, but she managed to shave my mons and lips smooth as silk. She used a special wax on my pits that stung like hell but seeing my baby-smooth reflection in the mirror took my breath away. When June returned she found me admiring myself. "What did I tell you? She does a good job," June said. "She sure does," I agreed. "What next?" "Now you put on your uniform," June said, handing me the white top. I wrapped it around my upstairs and clasped it in back. It fit snugly around my boobs and made my 36D bust look even larger. Then I put on the bikini. June had chosen one with a relatively conservative cut, but it did not flatter me. I have 36" hips and white makes everything look bigger. "Do you have anything more brief? I think this makes my ass look big." "Sandie, your ass looks just fine," June assured me. "I'd prefer something smaller, even if it's scandalously brief." "Well, we do have a G-string your size," offered June, showing me a white triangle of fabric in her palm. I tugged off the panty-like garment and slinked into the G-string. The white pouch just concealed my womanhood and the rear strap nestled snug in my asscrack, fully exposing the ample curves of my buttocks. "Wow," June murmured as I turned around, admiring myself from all angles. "That does look good on you." "It's perfect," I said with a smirk. Other stories from this author: Two Guys Really Get Fucked Coeds Dsicover Penectomy Porn Castration Quickie One Castration Quickie Two Memoir of a Student Teacher Castration Quickie Three Cyber-Bitch Technologies: The Constrictor
|