The following Thursday I was sitting behind my wife Kay on the bed brushing her long, silken hair. Kay was naked and sitting straight-backed in the yoga position; I was wearing a pair of her nylon panties. We called Thursdays her “grooming” night. Typically I would spend several hours every Thursday evening grooming her for her weekend with her lover Ted. This usually involved painting her toenails, shaving her pubic hair, massaging her with fragrant body lotion and brushing her beautiful hair out. Naturally I performed all of these tasks with an aching hard-on in my panties. I knew by now it was pointless begging her for sex afterwards; she saved herself exclusively for Ted these days. Even a hand-job was out of the question. At best she would sigh and tell me to go in the bathroom and masturbate in private.

            After several minutes of brushing her hair Kay said to me, rather dreamily, “You know what this makes me feel like?”

            “No, darling. What?”

            “Royalty. A queen. Am I your queen?”

            I leaned forward and kissed my wife’s bare shoulder. “Of course you are, darling. You’re my queen, my goddess, my master.”

            “If I’m your queen then what does that make you?”

            I kissed Kay’s shoulder again. “Your servant, darling,” I replied with shaky voice.

            Kay shook her hair out and said, “In ancient times queens had eunuchs for servants. Are you my eunuch, darling?”

            At the sound of the word “eunuch” I nearly came in my panties. Ever since I overheard Kay and Ted discussing my possible castration the previous weekend, I’d been waiting for the topic to pop up. Now it had. I looked down at the front of my panties. A little semen had leaked through staining the pink nylon. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

            “I am,” I said with quavering voice. “I’m your eunuch and your servant.”

            “What’s this then? What are these?”

            Without turning around Kay had reached her hand back, found the front of my panties and slid her fingers underneath. After fondling my little balls she gave them a hard squeeze.

            “How can you be my eunuch,” she asked playfully, “if you still have these?”

            “I…I…don’t know.”

            Kay slid her hand up over my erection. “And what about this? Don’t you get tired of this? Going around with a hard-on in your pants all the time?”

            “Some…times,” I confessed shakily. “Yes.”

            “I mean it’s not like you get to use it anymore. Not with me anyway. You don’t have a girlfriend on the side do you?”

            “Of course not. You're the only woman in my life.”

            “A boyfriend?”

            “No.”

            “Then what’s the point of it? I save my body exclusively for Ted nowadays. And if it wasn’t Ted it would be somebody else who can satisfy me in bed. Your role in our marriage is to do whatever I say and wait on me hand and foot, correct?”

            “Yes, dear.”

            “Then what’s the point of these?”

            Kay had her fingers under my crotch again, fondling me roughly. Aside from a sudden moan of pain I was speechless.

            “Tell you what,” Kay said, her hand sliding upwards again. “I’ll make you a deal tonight. Promise me you’ll listen to what I have to say, promise me you’ll at least consider it, and in return I’ll give you a nice, slow hand-job tonight. Deal?”

            “Yes, dear. That would be wonderful.”

            “OK, but don’t cum until I tell you to, promise?”

            “I promise.”

            “Good. Now hear me out. I think we should at least consider—consider, OK?—having you castrated.”

            I nearly gagged. It was as if my own severed balls had been forced down my throat. I gasped for air. Even knowing the question was coming in some form or other, it caught me off guard. I couldn’t help bristling at the suggestion.

            “We? Meaning…you and Ted?”

            “Ted had nothing to do with it,” she lied. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about on my own for some time. I only mentioned it to Ted because, well, he’s a doctor isn’t he? I wanted to get some professional advice. Ted said people—men—get castrated all the time, for various reasons. He said it’s a relatively simple procedure that could be done on an outpatient basis.”

            “By Ted?”

            “Not by Ted, no, and don’t be so defensive. I’m just throwing the idea out, for your sake. I feel sorry for you, darling. On the other hand, Ted is a gynecologist. He deals with this kind of thing all the time, from the other gender’s point of view. I would think a doctor who can remove an ovary or perform a full hysterectomy could lop off a man’s testicles easily enough.”

            Easy for you to say, I thought to myself. Now that the topic was out in the air I felt strangely deflated by it, strangely ambivalent. Even my erection, inside Kay’s sliding hand, had flagged a little.

            “You’re being defensive again. It’s just an idea I’m throwing out. It would be entirely up to you, I promise. I’m just tired of seeing you go around in such misery. Waking up with this thing in your panties, going to bed with it, no outlet for it anymore. Poor thing, I pity you. Besides, it would make you a better husband, I think. You do want to be a better husband don’t you?”

            At these words I melted again. I leaned forward and kissed Kay’s shoulder. I tried to kiss her cheek but she pulled away.

            “None of that. See, that’s the problem with you. Sex and desire, sex and desire, it’s all you think about. If we castrated you you’d be liberated from all of that nonsense. You’d be happy, compliant and at peace with yourself. You’d do whatever I say and wouldn’t argue with me anymore. You’d be the perfect husband.”

            I swallowed hard again. “And Ted…you wouldn’t leave me for him after I was…?”

            “Don’t be silly. Ted has his place in our life. He’s great in bed, he gives me wonderful gifts and takes me nice places. And who knows, I might even use him as a sperm bank someday. But outside the bedroom he can be an arrogant prick, god’s gift to the world if you know what I mean—typical doctor. If Ted and I spend more than two consecutive days together we’re at each other’s throats. No, if it’s our marriage you’re worried about, don’t. I married you for life and I intend to keep you around for life. You have to believe me when I say: castrating you will make me care for you more, darling, not less. Trust me on that. Please.”

            “I trust you,” I mumbled, not sure if I really meant it or not.

            “Are you about ready to cum?” Kay asked, abruptly switching subjects. “My arm’s getting tired.”

            “Whenever you want me to, dear.”

            “Just promise me one thing: that you’ll think about what we discussed tonight and give it serious consideration. We’ll talk about it again in a few days.”

            I bowed my head and said meekly, “I promise.”

            “Good. I’m going to lie back and jack you off on my tits, just like old times. Then you can lick it all up if you want.”

            On a couple of occasions, during our threesomes with Ted, Kay had had him pull out just before coming and jack off on her belly or breasts. Then she called me over to the bed to lick up all of Ted’s cum off her sweaty flesh. What Kay didn’t know was that one Saturday night Ted had come over while she was out of town, visiting her parents. Without Kay around for bedroom entertainment Ted and I lounged around watching a football game on TV and drinking frozen margheritas. At one point Ted got up and went to the bathroom. When he came back his pants were off and his huge erection was standing straight up. As if the whole thing had been choreographed I moved straight to him and dropped to my knees. The whole time I sucked and caressed him he called me “faggot.” But he also admitted at one point that I gave a better blowjob than my wife. “Especially the way you massage my balls,” he said. When Ted finally exploded in my mouth I swallowed every last sweet drop. As usual it was delicious. An angry, embarrassed Ted said to me as he pulled his pants up, "If you ever breathe a word to Kay about this I'll cut your fucking balls off!"

            Now, up on my knees hovering over Kay, it was my turn to cum. I didn’t try to hold back any longer. With a series of muted cries I watched a week’s worth of thick white sperm rain down on my wife’s lovely tanned breasts. Little did I know it was the last orgasm I would ever be allowed to have.