Phillip's Castration Party

Deena, an exotic dancer, is hired to perform at a private party 
being given for a young man on a special occasion. The host offers 
her additional money if she will have sex with the young man - on-
stage, in front of the crowd. Although against her normal rules, 
she agrees (she thinks the guy is pretty cute anyway). Only 
afterward does she discover that she gave the boy his last time. It 
was his castration party!

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Phillip's Castration Party

Hi, my name is Kayla and I want to tell you about something that 
happened to me and my roommate, Deena, a few years ago. Well, it 
actually happened to her and not to me, but it got me so excited 
that I sort of felt like I was there too. I can honestly say I've 
never been quite the same since, and neither has Deena.

It happened back in 1995 when Deena and I were roommates, working 
our way through college. We didn't have scholarships and money was 
always tight. We really had to pinch pennies to make ends meet in 
those days. Deena worked part time as an exotic dancer in some of 
the bars and topless clubs around town. That paid more than just 
about any other job a girl could pick up. Deena tried to teach me 
to dance. I even went with her on a couple of gigs, but I just 
didn't have the moves she had. 
My regular part time job was waiting tables at a restaurant; a 
country steakhouse called the Texas Stud. They  had a live band on 
weekends, and on weekend nights I could sometimes make over a 
hundred dollars a night in tips, but the rest of the week the tip 
money sucked. 

The Stud closed at eight o'clock on Sunday and I got back to the 
apartment about eight-thirty. I planned to study for a computer 
science test that was coming up the next day, then I would try to 
get into bed by eleven. Deena had a gig that night and that had me 
a little worried.
A city ordinance required all the bars and dance clubs to close on 
Sundays. Restaurants couldn't serve alcohol and that's why the Stud 
closed at eight. Deena was working a private party and that made me 
feel a little uneasy. You never know what kind of situation you 
could get into at one of those things. Well, Deena was braver than 
I, anyway.
Deena's gig was at a little place called Jo-Jo's down in the older 
section of town; not a good place for a girl to be alone at night. 
I had been there a couple of times. Lots of people there with 
multiple piercings, really bizarre tattoos, wearing lots of leather 
and lots of black. It kind of gave me the willies.  Like many 
establishments, Jo-Jo's rented out their bar and dining room for 
private parties on Sundays and off nights. It was one of these 
private groups that had hired Deena to dance that night.
Eleven o'clock came and Deena still wasn't home. I was beginning to 
worry and couldn't sleep. I stayed up reading until about twelve-
thirty when I heard Deena's footsteps on the porch and the sound of 
her putting her key in the lock.
"Deena, are you alright?" I asked, flinging the door open before 
she had a chance to use her key.
"Yeah, I'm okay," she said nervously. She was staring kind of 
blankly, like her mind was a million miles away, and her eyes 
looked liked she might have been crying. She was shaking a little, 
as though she were cold.
"Kayla, you're not going to believe what happened," she stammered, 
"but I've got to tell you, Kayla. I've got to tell you!"
It was like she was in a daze. She started taking off her dress 
right there in the living room and I quickly slammed the door and 
locked the dead bolt.
"Deena, what's wrong?" I asked, as I pulled down the blinds over 
the front window.
By this time she had slipped out of her dress. She was wearing a 
pair of little yellow bikini panties and a matching bra. When she 
turned around to face me I could see her panties were all gooey in 
the crotch and she was holding herself there. The stuff was creamy 
and thick, like semen - then my heart came up in my throat.
"Deena, you've been raped! Who did this to you? I'm calling the 
police!"
"No, no," she protested. "Don't call the police. I haven't been 
raped. I've had sex, but I haven't been raped."
Deena sat down on the sofa, still rubbing her dripping crotch. Some 
of the secretions were drooling onto the cushion and she was 
smiling.
"Girl, you need to get in the bath and get cleaned up," I said.
"Not yet," she giggled softly, continuing to knead her own crotch 
through her panties, "I want to feel it for a while longer, 
because... well, I guess I had better start from the beginning. 
"Kayla, do you still have any of that strawberry daiquiri mix? I 
think I need a drink."
"Sure, girl," I replied, "and I think I'll just have one myself."
I was relieved to see that Deena was okay and that she hadn't been 
traumatized by a bad sexual experience. I realized now that her 
unusual behavior was attributable to the fact that she was turned 
on. She seemed kind of vague and dreamy because she was still as 
hot as a firecracker!  My previous concern and worry quickly gave 
way to curiosity as I handed her the strawberry daiquiri and sat 
back to listen to her story.
_________________
Deena's Story:

I arrived at Jo-Jo's at eight o'clock like I agreed on the phone. 
Some guy dressed in black leather let me in. There were about 
twenty or twenty-five people in the room. I saw four women and the 
rest were men. They were all dressed sort of like the guy who let 
me in the door - all wearing black and lots of leather. I didn't 
know what kind of group this was. It all looked exciting, but to be 
honest, I was a little scared.
The leader, a guy called Delbert, came up and introduced himself. 
He was tall, wearing black leather pants and boots and a black 
leather vest with a black tank top underneath. He was muscled up 
like a body builder and had big tattoos all over his arms. He was a 
little bald in front, had a moustache and a very pointed goatee, 
and he was wearing dark glasses with little round lenses. He looked 
very sinister - a typical dom type, but he acted nice enough.
 Delbert introduced me to several of the others, including the four 
women. At first I felt more comfortable because I wasn't the only 
girl in the room -then it hit me. Something was wrong here! The gut 
feeling just went through me that these women weren't really 
"women." Oh, they looked and acted feminine enough, and they were 
actually quite attractive, but you know, you can just tell. These 
were guys that were cross dressed and it kind of gave me a queasy 
feeling in my stomach.
Delbert excused himself to go make some final adjustments to the 
sound system and left me with one of the "ladies" they called Queen 
Ann. Queen Ann was apparently like the second in command or 
something. She continued showing me around and introduced me to the 
remaining guests. It felt a little creepy knowing that Queen Ann 
was really a "he", but I still wasn't one-hundred percent sure that 
Queen Ann was a man - there was still that little doubt. You know 
the feeling.
Queen Ann's blonde hair had red and blue streaks in it and stuck 
out in tufts at odd angles, punk fashion. In addition to purple 
lipstick, thick makeup, and gaudy earrings she had a nose ring, lip 
ring. eyebrow ring, and a tongue fob. Her black dress was slit up 
the front so it just exposed the crotch of her leather panties. 
White legs, sheathed in black alligator hose, flashed with every 
step. In a way she looked sexy and seductive, yet she was just a 
little too butch.
One of the other women was dressed similarly to Queen Ann, except 
her dress was split up the side rather than in front. The other two 
women both wore black leather mini dresses stretched over shapely 
thighs that were quite convincing. However, all the women's 
costumes covered their upper torsos like turtlenecks, preventing 
anyone from scrutinizing their breasts. This kind of confirmed my 
suspicions about their gender.
Finally, Queen Ann introduced me to Phillip, tonight's guest of 
honor. Phillip was dressed differently than the others. Instead of 
the black leather look, he was wearing a pair of silk pajamas with 
a soft, pastel floral print. Rather sexy-looking really - both Phil 
and the pajamas. I asked him if this was a bachelor party and he 
only smiled sheepishly and said, "sort of." Queen Ann laughed and 
said it was also like a graduation and a going away party.
About that time Delbert returned to inform us the sound system was 
ready and he briefly reviewed the night's program. We had discussed 
the music I would be dancing to earlier, over the phone, when we 
set up the gig. I hate dancing where there's no live music; it 
always makes me feel a little cheesy. But at most small private 
parties that's what you have to live with. However, this group had 
state-of-the-art equipment that plugged right into Jo-Jo's sound 
system. It sounded great. It was only ten minutes until show time; 
Delbert offered me a drink and I accepted.
When the music began, I climbed onto the runway and started my 
routine. Phillip was seated at the end of the runway with Delbert 
and Queen Ann on either side of him. The rest of the guests lined 
up along both sides of the runway. Phil had big innocent-looking 
brown eyes and he smiled as he stared intently at my every move. 
His expression was more one of appreciation than leering. His face 
was filled with pure enthusiasm. He kind of reminded me of a puppy 
dog.
I could also hear little appreciative oooh's  and aah's from the 
rest of the crowd, along with an occasional exclamation of delight. 
Still, this crowd was more subdued than a regular crowd on a 
business night. I've performed in clubs filled with oil field crews 
and construction workers and this was nothing compared to that! I 
felt a little less apprehensive now about being the only girl in 
the club. (And I know those four "women" were just drag queens in 
VERY good disguise and character.)
As I danced, I tried to figure this crowd out. Were these guys all 
gay? If so, then why did they hire a girl to dance for them? If 
not, then where were the girls? Even if I was wrong about the 
"queens", four out of two-dozen isn't many girls have at a party. 
Nothing made sense.
After three numbers we had a brief intermission and I went to the 
ladies' room to freshen up and change into my belly dancing 
costume. My next three numbers would be Middle Eastern dance 
routines. The crowd cheered and applauded when I emerged from the 
ladies' room wearing a dress made of beads. I took time for another 
drink before climbing back onto the runway.
Everybody seemed to be having fun, especially Phil; he just went ga-
ga over my hip-shaking moves in the belly dancing numbers. I quit 
worrying about whether the crowd was gay or straight; or whether 
the women were real or queens, and I just had fun and went with the 
flow. I kept thinking that Phil was really cute and I wouldn't mind 
giving him a private show - if you know what I mean. I had never 
done this with a customer though. It was just a fantasy. A dancer 
doesn't want to start doing that in real life because it can cause 
all kinds of unwanted complications for her business. It's best not 
to mix business with pleasure - not too much anyway.
We had one last intermission before I performed my final number - 
the grand finale where I took everything off! I came out in a new 
costume; one specially made for striptease, that peeled of in 
layers. I climbed back onto the runway a began one of my most 
erotic and seductive routines.
By this time the party goers had had a few more drinks and the tone 
became more boisterous and noisy. As I slithered through my moves 
peeling off pieces of my costume, letting them flitter to the 
floor, the crowd began to sound a little more like a room full of 
oil-field rough necks. This feedback was very satisfying, 
especially when I contemplated that most of the men in the room 
might be gay. I was even turning THEM on!
There was a chrome pole at the end of the runway, right next to 
Phil. When I had peeled down to just my G-string I started really 
doing a number on that pole. You should have seen the expression on 
Phil's face; he was slavering with desire and delight. Those big 
puppy-dog eyes of his just killed me. I realized I was getting the 
hots for him pretty badly and I started trying to figure out some 
discreet way of asking him what he was doing after the party. It 
would be so cool to have a guy like him, I thought. He seemed so 
different, so trusting, almost docile. I had never had a man like 
that. I felt if I could ever get him inside me I would literally 
own him! I couldn't get that thought out of my head and I kept 
racking my brain trying to figure out some way to let him know that 
wouldn't be too obvious.
I peeled off my G-string, twirled it around my finger a few times, 
then flung it toward Phil. He caught it in his teeth and the crowd 
went wild! I strutted up and down the runway a couple of times in 
the nude and when the music stopped I slipped on a dress and 
bounded back down to the floor. The crowd was still applauding.
Delbert came up and handed me three one-hundred dollar bills. For 
private parties I dance for a hundred dollars an hour with a two 
hour minimum. It was just past ten-thirty and I had run well into 
the third hour. This was damned good money, I thought.
Then I got the surprise of my life. Delbert whipped out two more 
hundred dollar bills and asked me if I would have sex with Phil - 
up there on the runway - in front of everybody. I was so shocked I 
hesitated and stammered.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I have a strict policy..."
Then I hesitated. What the hell was I saying! I had just been 
trying to figure out how to get Phil into the sack and here was my 
chance to do it and get paid for it! Of course I had never done it 
for money before, and I had certainly never done it in front of an 
audience. I had never even done it with anyone watching. It was 
always just a twosome. This was not exactly what I had in mind. I 
just kind of stood there not knowing what to say.
It was Queen Ann who broke the awkward silence.
"Delbert, darling," she said, "this is such a momentous occasion, I 
feel we should make it worth the young lady's while, don't you 
think?"
Queen Ann pulled out three more one-hundred dollar bills and 
sweetened the pot.

"Deena, dear, this means so much to young Phil, there. You can't 
begin to imagine how important this is for him. Please?"
She sounded so sincere. Everyone was looking at me in anticipation; 
then I looked at Phil. He seemed to be pleading with those big 
brown puppy-dog eyes.
"Okay," I said, "but let me go get changed."
I told them that I wanted to incorporate the "trick" into dance on 
the runway. They said they liked that idea. I told Delbert what 
music I wanted and he programmed the CD carousel. Then I bounded 
back to the ladies' room to freshen up and change.
I dispensed with the preliminaries and climbed up on the runway 
wearing just my panties and bra. I pulled Phil up onto the runway 
and stripped off his pajamas while we were moving in time to the 
music. He was wearing a little pair of stretchy nylon bikini breis 
that matched those floral pajamas. Phil's skin was smooth and 
tanned. He wasn't muscled up like Delbert, but he had good tone and 
I could tell he worked out regularly.
I flung off my bra and rubbed my tits all over him and that really 
drove him wild; I could feel his firm young body go slightly limp 
with the weakness of desire. I pulled him over to the pole and 
placed him on one side and me on the other. I improvised a routine 
where we were dancing with the pole between us. It was so sexy; it 
was like we could be fucking except that the pole was in the way. 
This was really tearing him up; he wanted me so badly! I was afraid 
he was going to cum rubbing against the pole so I pulled him back 
out into middle of the runway. He would do anything I told him; 
I've never felt so much in control of another person in my life!
His erection was really making a tent in those little briefs of 
his, so I knelt in front of him and slipped them off. I noticed 
with delight that his crotch had been shaved slick. In fact, he 
didn't have any hair on his body except for the top of his head and 
his eyebrows. Even his armpits were shaved. I've had lots of 
fantasies about doing a man with a shaved crotch, but I didn't know 
guys actually did it; it's like they're giving up their macho power 
or something.
Phil had a nice member that appeared to be well over six inches and 
it really stood up. Two beautiful, healthy testicles hung in a 
tight sack, and I momentarily kneaded and fondled them. Phil 
emitted a gasp of pleasure that tapered off into a little 
submissive whimper. He placed his hands on my head to steady 
himself, tenderly caressing my hair as he did so. I pulled his cock 
head inside my mouth and gave it a good hard suck, letting my teeth 
lightly tickle the area just behind his glans, trying to be careful 
not to make him squirt prematurely. I felt a shudder go through him 
and his knees buckled. I feared for a moment that I had misjudged 
his stamina and that he was going to cum. It was a near miss! He 
was now so weak he could no longer stand and I guided his smooth 
body down against me so that we knelt facing each other.
I stood up with my crotch hovering just above his head and looked 
down at him staring up at me with those big puppy-dog eyes, 
enraptured with longing and desire. I put my thumbs inside the 
waistband of my bikini and squatted over his face, rubbing my 
drooling crotch against his mouth and under his nose. It took no 
coaxing at all to get him to grip the crotch of my panties with his 
teeth and help me remove my panties.
Gently placing a foot on his shoulder, I pushed him onto his back. 
Totally nude now, I stepped back and let him take in the view of 
the one who would soon, if ever so briefly, be his. Or, perhaps 
more correctly, I let him look at the one who would soon possess 
him totally!
Placing a foot between his legs I poked his balls teasingly with my 
toe. He gasped and giggled a little, spread his legs slightly, and 
flailed about in mesmerized anticipation. When I reached down to 
retrieve my panties from his mouth he sucked on the crotch as 
though trying to savor every last drop of my honey dew. I just 
smiled and gave him a big wet kiss on the lips. He knew it wouldn't 
be long now, and the thought had him out of his mind with desire.
I played my fingers up and down his solid thighs and over his firm 
abdomen, finally pinching his nipples just enough to make him 
wiggle and gasp. All the while he was looking at me with those big, 
beautiful puppy-dog eyes, in trusting anticipation. I couldn't 
believe I was getting paid for this!
Finally, I sat astraddle of his legs and began massaging and 
kneading his hairless pubic mound and lightly pinching the base of 
his penis. Ever so slowly I worked his member up and down against 
my bush, gradually parting the hair, then letting the head slip in 
and out a few times, teasingly. At last, I engulfed the full length 
of his member, pressing my thick pubic bush firmly against denuded 
pubic mound. A sensation of power rushed through me. Phil seemed 
suddenly so incomplete, subdued, and helpless, while I felt so 
functional, so whole, and so much in control. There's something 
about cutting off a man's crotch hair that makes him helpless and 
submissive; I swear it's more than just symbolism!
I slowly worked up and down his member, thankful now that I had 
taken those PC muscle exercises seriously. With Phil on his back, 
this was a classic position. I milked and kneaded his member with 
my powerful PC muscles while I pulled his head up and let him 
suckle my breasts. Then I began deep kissing him, knowing now that 
it was only seconds until he would erupt with all his pent-up 
ecstasy. His big puppy-dog eyes were closed now, and he was 
tenderly returning my kisses.
I could feel him holding back, as though he were trying to make 
this moment last forever.
"It's okay, Phil, baby," I whispered, softly. "You can give it to 
me; all that wonderful cum; you've been saving it just for me, 
remember."
He opened his eyes now, almost pleading. There was a mixture of 
ecstasy and desperation in his expression like I had never seen 
before. I could tell he was holding back for all he was worth. I 
knew he couldn't hold back much longer though, and I found his 
attempts rather amusing.
"Come on, sweetie," I whispered. "Give it to me; it's mine, 
remember; you can't keep it. That's it; just let it go."
I could feel him losing it. He looked up at me almost like he was 
scared and he started going, "Ah, ah... ahh..." It was like he was 
about to fall off a twenty storey building. Finally he just 
couldn't hold it anymore and he shrieked and screamed and clung to 
me like he was hanging on for dear life. I could feel his hot semen 
squirting deep inside me; throbbing spurt after throbbing spurt. As 
his orgasm finally tapered off, he started kissing me and his jaw 
was quivering.
"Oh thank you, Deena," he blurted, in a broken whisper. "Thank you 
so much."
I could see that he wanted to savor every last moment of our time 
together and I was in no hurry to get off him. I held him inside me 
until every last drop was spent and only let him slip out when he 
became flaccid.
"You were great," I said, sincerely meaning it.
He was looking up at me with that puppy-dog expression again. He 
seemed very happy, almost ecstatic, but tears were running down his 
face. I thought that was strange, but sex caused some strange 
reactions in people. I bent forward and kissed him on the lips 
again, then I tenderly kissed each tearing eye before getting up.
The crowd applauded with polite applause, you know, kind of like 
you hear at golf tournaments. I realized now that the crowd had 
been deathly quiet until now. In those last few minutes it was like 
Phil and I were in a private room.
I could see chagrin and sadness on Phil's face as I pulled my 
bikini panties back up my legs and slipped back into my bra. Four 
of the leather men grabbed Phil firmly, and he made no effort to 
resist. One of the "girls" in a mini dress - they called her Janna 
- reached into her large handbag and pulled out something that 
looked like a giant pair of weird-looking pliers with four little 
prongs on the end. Janna placed a fat little rubber band on over 
the prongs, then squeezed the handles stretching it out. Without 
hesitation she deftly slipped it over Phil's nut sack and snapped 
it off, close to his abdomen.
Phil let out a little gasp, then looked back up at everybody and 
smiled with that sweet, puppy-dog expression - then everyone 
cheered. Phil's nuts immediately turned a deep red, and quickly 
started turning blue. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing! 
"Couldn't that cause permanent damage?" I asked, climbing down from 
the runway and slipping back into my dress and shoes.
"Here," Delbert said, handing me another drink. "You look like you 
could use this."
I thanked him and accepted it. Yes, I needed another drink!
"And to answer your question, young lady, the band will indeed 
initiate a permanent change. That is the whole point, you see. 
Tonight is the night young Phillip becomes a eunuch. And you, my 
dear, Deena, have provided him with a most exquisite last time. 
Phil will remember you always as the last woman he was with - as a 
man.
"Here is a small token of appreciation for a job well done." 
Delbert handed me another hundred dollar bill.
"You mean Phil knew about this all along?" I was still kind of in 
shock. I know my questions must have sounded stupid, and I wondered 
if maybe I was asking too many questions.
"Oh yes, dear," said Queen Ann. "Phillip has known it was his 
destiny to become a eunuch for some time now. Some are called and 
some are not, but if they are destined, sooner or later they know 
and accept it.
One of the leather men they called Mike came up and handed me a 
small velvet bag.
"Mistress Deena," he said, "we have taken up a little collection 
among the group in appreciation of a superb performance. You made 
Phil's last time most memorable as well."
I thanked him, finished my drink, and grabbed my bag to leave.
"You are welcome to stay with us," said Delbert. "There's plenty of 
liquid refreshments and snacks are being prepared in the kitchen."
"Yeah," said Queen Ann, with a mischievous glint in her eye, "We're 
all just going to hang around and watch Phil's nuts die."
This thing sort of gave me the creeps and I just wanted out of 
there. I told them it was getting late and that I had to go. They 
said that was okay; they understood. Before I left though, I went 
over to where Phil was seated and gave him one last kiss on the 
lips. He was dressed now only in a silk robe that matched the 
pajamas he was wearing previously. It was open in front and I could 
see his poor constricted, dying nuts. They were dark purple now, 
almost black.
"You must be brave now, Phil," I said. I don't know why I said 
that; it just seemed appropriate. Evidently, the others agreed. 
They smiled at me approvingly, as though they thought I was 
beginning to understand.
"Thank you again, Deena," Phil said, weakly. "I will be brave, and 
I will remember you always."
When I started for the door, Delbert had two big leather men escort 
me to my car so I wouldn't get mugged.

Driving home, I kept trying to sort this all out. It was the 
weirdest thing that had ever happened to me. Who were these people? 
What would have happened had I refused to have sex with Phil? Would 
they have castrated him anyway? Why couldn't they get a woman from 
inside their group to do that? Were there even any women - real 
women - inside their own group? Was I wrong, after all, about the 
"queens"? And, oh... oh my god! What if the queens used to be guys 
like Phil! Was that Phil's fate; to be feminized, cross dressed, 
and become a drag queen forever?
It was then that I became aware of Phil's semen oozing out into my 
crotch and my thoughts turned to those final, wonderful moments 
when he ejaculated inside me. I reached down and started rubbing 
myself, realizing that the creamy issue I was rubbing between my 
fingers was the last poor Phil would ever produce. It seemed so sad 
I actually started to cry, but I kept getting turned on thinking 
about it.
I remembered occasionally having fantasies about doing it with a 
man the last time before he got castrated. In my fantasies though, 
the guy would always lose them in an accident or for medical 
reasons or something. In the past I would never have even dared 
tell a man that I ever had fantasies involving castration. I felt 
that was very perverted and if a man knew about it he would run 
like hell and never come back. The idea that a man would actually 
volunteer to become a eunuch seemed incredible - and sexy beyond 
belief!
My mind was in a spin now with all these strange new thoughts and 
images. It was scary; it was creepy; it was wonderful! I found 
myself wishing I had stayed at the party. I needed so badly to know 
more!
_________________ 

Finally, Deena went into the bath and started getting ready for 
bed. I was almost too worked up now to go to sleep, but we agreed 
to continue our discussion the next afternoon.
Like Deena, I admitted that I occasionally had fantasies about 
having sex with men who were about to be castrated. I didn't have 
these often and I didn't think there was anything particularly 
abnormal about it. After all, people had all kinds of strange 
personal fantasies. It's only when you became obsessed with one 
particular one that you had to worry. At least that's what those 
little paperback self-help guides said. Actually, one of my 
favorite fantasies was that I lived with a eunuch and that he could 
give me massages and rubdowns, but couldn't do anything sexually. 
He could love me with his hands, his tongue and his heart, but 
never with his sex. His affection for me would be true and pure, 
and never selfish. It would be kind of like having a human pet.
That got Deena started thinking about how nice it would be to have 
a eunuch go with her on gigs to help her get into her sexy 
costumes, and she would always have an escort in the parking lot. 
Now there was a practical idea! This thing was gripping our 
imagination and infatuating us as nothing else ever had.
Later that week we went back to Jo-Jo's to see if we could learn 
more about that group that hired Deena. The guy in charge was a 
huge, burly guy, about six-seven, with a shaved head and a large 
earring in one ear. He looked like Mr. Clean. He said the club 
never gave out that kind of information and they kept their 
dealings with clients strictly confidential. Deena left her name 
and phone number and said to tell those people if they ever needed 
her to work another party like that one, she would be available and 
glad to do it. We never heard from them again though.
A few months later we both graduated and moved to separate towns. I 
manage the computer and software department at an electronics 
store. Deena is the manager of a health spa where they also teach 
tumbling and modern dance. We stay in touch, of course, and get 
together whenever we can. Deena and I have been good friends for 
years, but now it's like we share a special secret world and it's 
formed an even closer bond between us.
Our obsession with eunuchs has probably ruined out chances of being 
satisfied with a normal vanilla marriage though. That's probably 
why we've both remained single. We talk about that quite a bit. 
Sure, we like regular sex with regular guys, but that's something a 
girl gets when she goes out on the town looking for it. I really 
can't see having one of those self-centered, macho studs at home, 
giving orders and planning my life. No, at home I want a eunuch (or 
two or three), my own personal pets who take their direction from 
me.
It looked as though Deena and I would spend the rest of out lives 
dreaming about this wistful fantasy, forever depriving ourselves of 
even the paltry matrimonial pleasures offered by mainstream vanilla 
society, all because of this brief glimpse into another world, a 
bizarre, unlikely, underground world, that caused us to dream of an 
impossible paradise. We often wondered if there were other women 
out there like us, in whom once this fantasy was awakened and 
allowed to grow and mature, would be forever beguiled by its 
haunting spell. And we wondered how many men like Phil would be 
willing to sacrifice their manhood voluntarily for the vision and 
promise of a higher more rewarding sensuality. (Oh god, if I could 
only have met him - been there- witnessed it!) Was this all just 
decadent eroticism, or was it a vision of life as it should truly 
be lived? 
A few weeks ago, however, I received an email from Deena. She told 
me to check out this web site, the Eunuch Archive at BME. I clicked 
on the URL and couldn't believe what I was seeing! There were lots 
of men literally begging to be castrated! Many shared our fantasy 
of becoming a docile eunuch pet for a beautiful woman after 
voluntarily submitting to castration. We knew this strange, 
wonderful world was out there somewhere, lurking just beneath the 
surface of mainstream vanilla society. Now we have found it!
Deena and I have met others at the site and are forming a network. 
At last the eunuch and mistress subculture is becoming a reality!

THE END