Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Angie Takes Over

Liz has grown and matured over the years to be quite a sophisticated woman, traveling on sales calls she makes for her job as a big pharma rep. Sometimes she takes one of her studs with her, sometimes she goes alone.

This leaves me at home a lot when she is gone. But I am not alone.

No, her daughter is here. Angie is going to college full time now, and has a part time waiting tables at Hooters. Her boobs are not that huge, but with the right bra she fits right in. Actually, with my current body I think I could probably work at Hooters, if Liz would let me leave the house.

Liz actually told Angie who I was a few weeks ago. That I... um, used to be her husband. That technically she and I are married. Husband and wife. Angie did not react well to this news. She ranted at Liz for a while, asking how she could have made such an awful mistake.

"This... woman that you now tell me is not actually a woman, has got to be the most pathetic creature in human existence!!!" I could hear her yelling at Liz in the other room. "She was an OK nanny, and cleans house OK if we whip her enough, but my father??? How fucking humiliating!!!"

It was humiliating for me, too, to hear my step-daughter yelling this at my wife.

"She's not your father, first of all. Second, yes, she is pathetic. She isn't as pathetic as when I married him, trust me. He just degenerated over time."

"Thank god he is not my father or I would have to kill myself! I couldn't bear the humiliation. But his name is still on my birth certificate as my father! That's terrible enough!!!"

"We can get it corrected if you like. It just never seemed to matter, Angie." Liz was trying to calm the teenager down.

"This changes everything. I used to think she was just a household servant that we had taken in and given a life to, some destitute woman. Now I learn she is a member of the family. I feel like puking."

And that's the way it went for an hour, after which Liz packed her things and left on a week long business trip to New York.

Which left me alone with Angie.

Now, since taking the hormones, having my body modified to remove all genitalia, and dressing in women's clothes exclusively, I have actually turned into a rather beautiful woman. I clean up pretty well, if I do say so myself.

Liz has farmed me out for modeling, a practice that makes her extremely angry (to see me appear beautiful and to actually be modeling), but she can't resist the cash flow.

Nude modeling has been paying better and Liz has been setting me up in various nude sessions that are pretty much just soft porn. The porn side of things is very niche... the woman with no genitals.

Yeah genetically I am a man, but my body and face look completely feminine now, so I am billed as a woman.

The lack of genitals is weird. I am used to it now, of course. It's been a year since I lost my cock, but it is a sort of selling point for the porn side of things.

Last week Liz actually brought up the idea that she might have be do some porn videos instead of the soft core nudes she had been having me do. I wouldn't care, I have no sex drive any more. It would probably be with some guy that I would suck off and maybe let fuck me in the ass. I know from Liz's studs that some guys are fascinated by the idea of fucking a girl in the ass because she has no cunt.

The porn shoots are either soft erotic nudes, in which case you can't see my missing genitalia, or explicit nudes that have my legs spread or something like that.

There is a little scaring and extra remaining tissue from my scrotum, enough to sort of make it look like I have a cunt.

But any close look, it is clear that just just a bit of extra skin. There is no hole there.

Now that Angie is aware of my true "gender" and condition, she insisted on seeing me and examining between my legs. She was disgusted, of course and expressed disgust toward me.

Angie has been bringing boys home since she was 16, and Liz has never said anything to stop it. I talked to her once and she said she would rather that Angie be doing it someplace safe where she could keep track of the boys than have her doing it in the back seat of some car on a bad street.

Liz then reminded me again that Angie is not my daughter and it was none of my business.

So... back to being alone with Angie.

Angie had a guy over a couple of days later. Young guy, maybe 20 years old, and a real hunk. She went up to her room while I was cleaning the downstairs bathroom but then ten minutes later came down. She had her top off and just her panties on below.

"Evelyn. Upstairs. I want you to show Kyle what you look like."

"Angie, I am not sure if that's a good idea. Your mom isn't --"

"Shutup, bitch or I will whip the snot out of you. Upstairs."

So upstairs I went. Kyle was undressed on the bed, slowly playing with his cock, which was remarkably large. I guess like mother, like daughter.  When he saw me he started stroking his cock for real.

"Take your clothes off, bitch," Angie told me. Obediently, I stripped down to nothing and stood for them to observe.

"Get on the bed and show him what a pig you are," demanded Angie.

Being ordered around by a woman and her stud was familiar to me. It was just usually my wife, not my daughter. Still,it was easy. I climbed onto the bed on all fours and positioned myself for Kyle to observe where my cunt... or cock... should be but wasn't.

"Holy crap, Angie. This is amazing. She is really cute though, but... you say this is... your... step father?"

"Yeah. More or less. Mostly less. You want to fuck her?"

"No, I want to fuck you. Make her watch. God, that's hot, making your neutered Dad watch you take my cock... " he laughed. I think I was blushing bright red by then, I had not felt this humiliated in years.

Angie stripped her panties off and leaped on top of Kyle, sliding his cock into her already wet pussy. I lay on the bed and watched at my step-daughter's order. "That's it daddy dear. Watch now. Oh fuck that feels good Kyle... you always fill me up so... owwww... god you are big... fuck me now, push it in deep.... watch him daddy, watch my boy fuck me..."

"I want her to join," said Kyle after he had sunk his cock deep inside Angie.

"Why? She can't do anything. She can't feel any pleasure. Push... push harder... of fucccckkkkk...."

"She can service me. Give me pleasure. And you if you want."

Angie's bobbing head, moving up and down from the slamming of Kyle's hips into hers, turned and looked at me. "Over here, bitch," she demanded.

I obeyed. Leaning over I kissed Kyle, long and hard. He raised his arms and put them around me, pulling me in while he bounced Angie's body.

Even though Angie is not my daughter I had thought of her as my daughter for most of her life. To be ordered to service her lover, to be in the same bed with her and actually feel our naked flesh rubbing against each other, felt very weird. Taboo.

"Get between my legs, whore," gasped Angie as the two continued fucking. "Suck me, and suck him. Make us both come!"

Angie actually slid on top of me and I positioned so that I could access her clit and his cock as it went in and out of her, just above my face. I did my best to lick and suckle both of their genitals.


I guess it worked because Kyle came pretty quickly, moaning, then grunting and crying out, "OH, FUCK I am gonna CUM!"

I saw his cock pulsing inside of Angie's cunt and then he slid it out while he was still ejaculating.

Tons of white sperm slid out of Angie's hole and right down into my waiting mouth, and he continued dribbling onto my face as I accepted his semen from Angie.

Angie then shuddered, gasped and squeezed her thighs on my head, having her own climax. Her muscular contractions simply squeezed more of Kyle's body fluid out of her cunt and into my mouth as I licked her clit.

I had actually been responsible for bringing Angie to an orgasm.

Angie literally kicked me off the bed when she was done. I wiped the remains of Kyle's cum from my lips, and crawled to the corner, arms around my knees.

Kyle and Angie snuggled for a while and shared some affection. I watched, and this felt as bad as anything I had ever felt watching Liz. No one loved me, cared for me. I watched as Angie was loved by her boyfriend and wished I had something like that.

"Hey, you want to see what my mom does with her?" Angie sat up suddenly.

"What?" Said Kyle. "I can't get hard again for another half hour, but..."

"No, no... here, watch. Get over here, bitch, sit in the chair." The last was directed to me, and I stood, my face still wet with tears and sat in the wooden chair.

Angie started slapping my breasts, hard. She pulled her arm back and swung it around and whacked my left breast, and then swung her other arm back and whacked my right. She was going to bruise me fast, and I was crying again, this time because of physical, not emotional, pain.

"She does that?" Asked Kyle in amazement.

"Sure. You want to?"

"She seems really incredibly ... uh... submissive."

"Well, she's been shit on and manipulated by my mom for the last 20 years, so... yeah. Try it.'

Kyle slapped my breast. I just sat there, trying not to sob.

"Wow..."

"Hit her harder wimp! Like this!" Angie hauled off and slapped my right tit hard enough to make me gasp.

"OK..." Kyle began slapping my breasts, back and forth.

I wasn't in my wrist restraint, like I am when Liz slaps my breasts, so I just hung on to the chair as hard as I could while Kyle kept slapping, over and over... and over...

When he finally stopped I was sobbing, and my breasts were bright red with the beginning signs of bruises showing.

"Fuck, Angie... What else can we do with her."

"I dunno, but I am bored with her. Evelyn, get dressed and go finish your work."

And that was the end of that. Angie and Kyle spent the rest of the afternoon in her bedroom. I spent the rest of the day cleaning and cooking dinner.

I hoped the bruises from the breast beating that Kyle gave me are gone by the next photo shoot, or Liz is going to be mad as a hornet and I don't look forward to that.

Friday, June 23, 2017

Serving Others

I was once a man. I remember it. I remember marrying Liz, I remember we used to fuck several times a week. She was blond back then, and younger of course. She could have had any man she wanted. She was the sexiest woman I knew.

My cock would actually go inside of her, and I actually ejaculated sperm inside her body.

How long ago was this? It stopped a little before our daughter, Angie, was born. And no, she isn't actually my daughter. There is no way she could be, because I was no longer allowed to penetrate Liz by then.

No, Angie is my ex-boss's daughter. At least, we think so, Liz hasn't done a DNA test and doesn't see the need. Angie is 18 years old now, so if she wants to pursue it she can. Carlos was fucking my wife back then, along with about 10 other guys, but Angie has some Hispanic features and Carlos was the only Mexican Liz was fucking at the time.

She had me watch them all, too. She still does, at times. Just ties me up in a ball in the corner like a piece of furniture. Knees pulled up and secured to my body or neck, legs secured to my thighs, arms tied tight against my body.

Basically, it's a tie so tight you can't even move. In fact, it can get rather hard to breathe. I sometimes struggle with the cramps set in, but it doesn't help much. When that happens I just lay on the ground and cry.

My tears make Liz happy, though sometimes her studs are bothered by it.

It doesn't matter because basically, I am no longer a sexual being.

Yeah. I have no genitalia, of any kind. I look like a woman, a rather pretty woman. I wear dresses, heels, bras, have breasts. No cock. No balls. No vagina. No clit.

My balls were strangled and the dead remains surgically removed years ago. I lived for many years with just a cock. The first year or so were fun. I had sex again, or at least... I had orgasms again. I even got to fuck a few of Liz's men. The ones that liked to have a cock in their ass. There were a few... not many.

After a year my cock went soft and I couldn't get it hard again, not without a lot of work. It was the hormone changes in my body. I had already begun living as a woman.

So now... well, a year ago. Liz decided it was time to remove my cock as well. It was OK with me, it was rather useless. So...she found a doc in Mexico that would do it. Last summer we flew down for a vacation. Two weeks later I flew back, sans-cock.

I consider myself a woman now, except I can't really have sex with anyone.

I can service others. That's more or less my role now. To service others. I service Liz by cleaning house, taking care of errands and the like.

I service Liz's lovers by cleaning up their cum with my mouth, by letting them fuck me in the ass, by giving them blow jobs. Or just by whimpering, crying, as they fuck my wife and I lay bound and helpless.

Interestingly, a lot of her studs are now willing to fuck me in the ass, since I lost my penis. I look exactly like a woman except... no vagina. So, they pump sperm into my anus, and pretend they are having anal with a cute girl. Which I guess they are, in a way.

Angie treats me like the nanny that isn't needed any more, ever since she turned 18 she does her own thing. She bosses me around a lot, and of course... I obey her.

I am humiliated by this... but... my wife... Liz... has had me service our daughter. Well, she isn't actually my daughter. Not legally, not biologically. She is the daughter of my wife.

During the year since I lost my cock, and since she turned 18, Liz has been sharing me with Angie. She's taught Angie how to ... well, abuse me. To punish me.

It turns out that Angie is more of a sadist than my wife. "Can I play with Evelyn tonight?" She will ask.

"No, dear. She still hasn't healed from the last time you whipped her."

"But I want to... I like the noises she makes and the way her body twists around. And Mr. Jefferson at school gave me a C on my paper and I am just pissed off and neeeeeeeeed to take it out on something. So can I?"

Whipping is Angie's favorite way of punishing me. Liz likes to tie me up and forget me for hours at a time. Angie prefers a more energetic approach.

My foster daughter will cuff me and chain me to a low beam in our family room. It keeps me from getting away, from wriggling too far, but gives me plenty of room for squirming and writhing.

Because the single tail whip she uses reallllllyyy hurts. It will put huge welts, bruises, and open wounds on my body.

"All right dear. Just... please, don't leave permanent marks. I want her to do some modeling in two weeks."

Oh yeah... Now that I am a pretty woman, Liz has me modeling. A beautiful woman... (prettier than her, which is one reason she gets angry and abuses me), a beautiful woman with no vagina. No genitalia at all. A freak.

Perfect for some of the freakier porn outlets.

So, a few months ago she started farming me out for photo shoots.

The modeling has actually been my salvation. It feels like I have a purpose again. I am more than just the degraded servant of a domineering woman who is made to do the most humiliating of tasks. Like watch her fuck another man and then lick up his cum.

Now I get to show off this body that Liz gave me. Actually be attractive again. Even if it is as a woman.

We've done a number of photo shoots. Liz supervises, or at least makes sure she is there. She controls what happens a lot of the time, and she tends to emphasize shots that show my crotch. She figures showing my lack of genitalia will bring in more money. Make me fit into a specific kink audience.

I don't know how much money has been made. It can't be a lot, but it's enough that Liz keeps doing it.

I am also grateful that the modeling keeps Liz from torturing me too much. She wants my body, my flesh, to look good. To have no scars or welts or bruises.

After each photo shoot, Liz brings me home and is always in a terrible mood. I think it is because I have been making money with my female body, and she is jealous. Or at least, angry that I have anything nice about me at all. She's tried to take everything away from me, but in doing so she has given me something-- feminine beauty.

So, after a photo shoot is the one time that Liz will string me up and whip me.

"So, you think you are beautiful, Evelyn? Husband of mine? You think you are sexy?" She will taunt me while I am hanging from the chains, waiting.

"No, ma'am. I am nothing. I am not beautiful. I--"

The first hiss of the lash cuts me off. I scream.

"Shut up, bitch, the neighbors will hear you. Do you want to be gagged?"

"No...no... ma'am..." I gasp.

The whip sings again, slicing across my back, my buttock, my thighs, my breasts, my stomach.

"That's right you quisling, slimy, disgusting, ugly, half-human blob of flesh. You are nothing. I have taken everything from you, and you are nothing. You serve only me! Your body is mine to do with as I please! Filth! You are suited to nothing but licking my lover's cum from my leg!"

"No... ma'amm..... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" I can't help but moan, grunt, and scream at the whip.

"Enough! Enough noise! I will teach you not to make noise!"

She lets me down and I collapse on the floor, shaking from the dozen or more lashes she has delivered with the single tail bullwhip.

She drags me to the dining room, making a makeshift bondage bar to hold me in place. stuffing my mouth full of a cloth from the kitchen and they tying it off with an impromptu cloth gag.

I remain there for the rest of the day, so long that I end up peeing on the carpet.

Angie comes by and sees me tied in place. "Mooooommmmm. Evelyn has peed on the carpet!!!" She looks at the puddle between my legs. "You are disgusting, you know that?"

Liz comes in and decides to put clothespins on my breasts as punishment for peeing. Of course, I have to clean up the dirty carpet when she finally unties me, three hours later.

Two weeks later the welts from the whipping are healed and I have another photo shoot. This one is outdoors and Liz makes sure there are plenty of shots that capture the space between my legs. It feels good to be outside, and to be showing off my feminine body.

The only problem is that I know when it is over Liz will be in a foul mood and probably come up with some new and interesting way to hurt me.


Thursday, June 22, 2017

Punished and Tortured

I suppose I should have known it would happen.

Castration removes a lot of hormones from the male system. It's more or less what Liz wanted. Fewer male hormones means less aggressive behavior, more docile males.

I am certainly docile now. I don't argue with her much and pretty much does what she says. My interest is sex has plummeted, and my cock hardly ever gets hard any more.

Even Liz's studs are losing interest in me. Some will come by and want to ass fuck me, and of course I let them because Liz requires it of me. But I used to get pleasure from being ass fucked. Now I stay limp and just take the stud's load and then watch him get with Liz.

It means more or less I am Liz's slave now. I lost my job a long time ago and stay home, taking care of our child, and cleaning house, doing the laundry, things like that.

Our daughter Angie is growing fast, and is now almost 14. She has been talking about dating this guy. I am not happy about it, but Liz thinks it is OK, and reminds me I really have no say in the matter.

Angie does not know I am Liz's husband, of course. And she knows I am not really her father. Angie thinks I am a pathetic loser that Liz took in and gave a job to out of pity, which is sort of true now.

Angie also thinks I am a woman.  She's never seen my cock, and because of the estrogen Liz gave me I have some pretty good breasts now. In fact, I think I am a remarkably good looking woman, for someone that still has a cock. I've grown out my hair, and trimmed down. The hormones mean my body hair is almost gone and my skin smoother.

In fact, I get hit on by men quite a bit when I am out without Liz. Too bad my sex drive has basically gone to almost zero.

I still have to watch Liz when she fucks men. It doesn't bother me any more. It hasn't bothered me in years... I am no longer a sexual being. Instead, I am Liz's plaything. An object to torture, humiliate, make perform perverse acts. I watch her have normal sex, passionate sex, even romantic sex. She in turn makes me eat her spit.

It's true. It is one of the things she has been doing recently, to show her disgust for me. For what I have become. She forces me to my knees, has me open my mouth and drains the contents of her mouth into mine. I must swallow, of course.

A few times she has spit her lover's cum into my mouth.

Liz gives men blow jobs, of course. She must have given over a hundred different men oral in the last 15 years, and I have been forced to watch many of the times.

She loves to take a full load and then come to me, force me to open my mouth then spit into mine. I must then swallow her lover's cum.

It doesn't bother me. I started eating her lover's cum about the time we were first married; she would have me lick her cunt and clean her up after someone ejaculated inside her. I hate that back then, but now... well, I've just eaten so much cum from my wife... it doesn't matter.

During the last year Liz has started torturing me. Abusing me in whatever way amuses her.

She usually does it when Angie is not home, but I am sure there are times Angie hears me crying in the bedroom after Liz has done something to me.

Liz hates my breasts. It could be because she thinks they are better than hers, or maybe just because they are attractive and Liz doesn't think I should be attractive in any way. She doesn't like me having nice things of any kind, and I guess my having a nice feminine body really irritates her.

She purchased a special collar bracket thing, that would hold my hands out away from my body. I remember it was what that actress wore in the movie Secretary. It fits on my neck and then my wrists go on either end, about two feet away from the center.

That way, when I am locked in that bracket, I can't get in the way of Liz slapping and punching my breasts. She just loves to do that until my poor boobs are red and burning and bruised, after which she will make me clean up the bathroom or do dishes, still wearing the arm spreader.

Angie sometimes sees me wearing the spreader, and knows that I have gotten in trouble. She doesn't say much about it, but a couple of times she has said something like, "Why do you keep getting in trouble with Mom? You should know better by now."

I don't do anything to deserve any of this abuse. Honestly. I am faithful to her, I work hard, I have raised our child well.

Bottom line, my wife hates me and what I have become. She demands that I worship her, to be her slave, and I do. I am obedient and worshipful.

That isn't enough though. She wants to hurt me.

Over the last few years Liz has learned more and more about rope. She used to handcuff me or simply strap me to a chair with belts or velcro, but she's learned how to do various ties with rope. She has begun to delight in tying me up.

At first it was just hands behind the back, or tied to a bedpost while she made love to one of her studs. She loved to have me lay helpless while she and some guy moaned and groaned and pushed themselves to climax, and did nasty biological things to each other.

More and more Liz has used rope and tying me up as a form of punishment. She will tie me up in very, very tight bondage where I can't move at all and leave me there for hours.

This may not seem too horrible but you have no idea how awful it can be to be folded over onto yourself, chest pressed against legs, knees bent and tied to thighs, wrists tied and then tied to my neck... until I resemble a form of a human ball.

After laying there, unable to move for an hour or so the cramps start setting in. My legs hurt, my back. My arms and shoulders. If I am not gagged I will beg to be released, but that usually just makes Liz happy.

I am frequently gagged, though, so my cries are muffled. I have tried not to cry out, but... I can't help it.

When I am tied to the bedpost to observe my wife engage in raunchy sex with random men I am usually naked. It is a form of taunt.

But, when tied simply to amuse Liz or for punishment (which are the same thing, really), I'm usually dressed; Liz likes to see me wearing very nice feminine clothes when I am tied up and helpless.

She'll bring in one of her girlfriends or one of her studs and let them watch me struggle, trying to stop the cramping. They observe my muffled cries, speculating as to what I am trying to say.

Liz is also caning me now.

There is a ritual she uses for the canings. She calls me in to the bedroom and closes the door. She never canes me in front of Angie.

"Remove your clothes." She instructs. I do as she orders, knowing what will probably be coming.

"On the bed, on all fours."

Now naked, I climb onto the bed with my knees close to the edge, so my feet hang out over the end a little.

I remain there, anticipating while Liz prepares. She gets one of her canes from the closet, and flexes it a bit, choosing the one she wants. My ass is already stinging in my mind, and I sometimes have tears.

"You slut. What are you crying for, I haven't even started yet!" She has said.

I say nothing. There is nothing I can say that will make it better.

The first one seems like the worst one, a sudden, unannounced whack of the bamboo on my ass. I yelp, crying out in pain. It is amazing how much one of those little canes can hurt.

Of course, she will continue, perhaps six strokes, maybe ten. The most he has given me is 25. That left bruises and welts on my ass and thighs for three weeks and I was unable to sit for a couple of day after.

I think I cry a lot more than I did before. The hormonal changes in my body, my loss of manhood, my situation... they all come together and I am more emotional, more sensitive. As a man I would tough out a punishment like that. Now... I am neither man nor woman. But I am crying a lot more.

Liz has begun to talk about fixing that. She won't pay for sex reassignment surgery-- giving me a true vagina. But she's said it is time for me to lose my cock.

It sort of makes sense. I don't really use it any more, it doesn't get hard so...what's the point? I think I would be happier as a true woman now, anyway.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Sex With No Testicles

I'm pretty much healed now. It was touch and go for a while and I am glad we went to the hospital and had it finished off properly.

Being without testicles has made me feel so free-- I don't have to wear the dumb chastity cage (it wouldn't work if we tried) and I can actually have sex again!

I've let my hair grow long now and wear women's clothes all the time. We donated my last men's clothes to goodwill a couple of weeks ago, and my underwear went in the trash. All I wear is frilly, girly clothes now. I think I looked more girly (though not prettier) than Liz!

I'm pretty much a full time house maid and day care now. That's my job. Our daughter calls me "Evelyn" and has no idea I was ever a man.

I still have my cock though, which is great! When I finally healed, I discovered I could masturbate and started stroking myself several times a day. It feels so good to be all dressed in my sexiest girl clothing and pull out my cock and stroke until I feel the spasms and the pleasure and then a bunch of creamy cum spurts out...

I've been on hormones since long before my castration (Liz started me on them before I even knew about it). As a result I have gotten breasts, and some pretty good ones. My skin is smoother and I don't have hair like I used to.

I just feel... so... feminine, you know?

Liz bought me a fleshlight to help with masturbation. I love that thing.

Liz won't let me fuck her, of course. I don't think she will ever let me inside of her again. But she has really eased off on letting me get off on my own. The fleshlight is really cool to play with.

One thing I have noticed since losing my balls is that my jizz is not as white. I tends to be clearer, and not as thick.

Oh-- I've gotten slimmer, too. You know, I think there are two things going on in my body-- the hormones Liz has been feeding me, and the lack of male hormones from my testicles. I think over all my body has gotten sexier and prettier and smoother, and I really love my new breasts.

One thing I have noticed  though. It is more difficult to get an erection. Now, it's been a year and half, maybe two years since I really had free access to my cock; I've been locked up most of that time. So I can't completely remember. But it seems like it was easier to get hard when I first met Liz. I mean, I remember getting hard just sitting in a restaurant, looking at her.

Now I have to stroke myself, work at it a bit, then the erection comes.

Once I get the erection it feels really good. I like the way I look, with my body, my hair, my breasts, and my hard cock standing up.

As far as Liz is concerned I am her maid and her slut. I am her maid because I clean house, do laundry, take care of our daughter. I am her slut because she uses me with her studs. I am her stud's playthings.

It's true, while I don't get to touch Liz at all, I do get fucked a lot by her guy friends she has over all the time. They find me attractive, which is sexy in itself.

Jason loves the idea of getting ass fucked by a girl with a cock. He comes over to play, and half the time he tells Liz he wants me to come over and fuck him. He lays on his back and lifts his legs like a girl and I fuck him.

He loves to play with my breasts, but when he is ready to cum I just pound away inside him and her jerks off looking at my pretty face.

I don't get inside a cunt any more. Liz is the only girl around. I am not allowed to play with the girls she has over, except for Megan... that is so fucking amazing. Megan is a cute blond, younger than Liz. Sort of a toy for Liz.

Liz likes the guys better, but she does like variety and when Megan is over, sometimes... sometimes I get to join in. Megan gets a kick out of having sex with a girl that has a dick. She can make me cum so easily. I had totally forgotten what it was like being inside a girl while Liz had me in chastity. Since losing my balls and developing breasts, I am getting so much sex it's almost like I am Liz's whore.

Huh... I am, in a way. Her slut for sure. Whore... maybe.

But most of the time I am her guy's plaything.

Each one has something different they like doing to me. For example, Carlos comes over and fucks my ass, while I am on all fours. Carlos is my ex-boss, and the father of my daughter. Um... Liz's daughter.

Yeah. Carlos comes for Liz, but a lot of the time he will stop off and bend me over and ram his cock up my ass.

I get off that way too. I hate that it is Carlos doing it, he is like... I hated him when he was my boss but was also screwing my wife. Now... well, I am just a slut and it's OK I guess. I stroke my cock while he butt fucks me, and usually cum on the sheets before he cums inside my ass.

His spunk slowly oozes out of my ass, down my balls and mixes with my own stuff on the sheets. He likes to see that and always makes me stay still and push his jizz out of my anus while he watches.

Then he goes over to Liz and they go at it for a while, and I watch.

I used to cum more than once, but since I lost my balls, it's maybe once a day.

Since losing my balls, I think I understand a lot more about how girls like sex. I've learned to enjoy using my body, using my ass wrapped around a cock, to pleasure a man.


Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Castration Complications

It's been a week. I can't believe it is taking this long to lose my balls.

The pain dulled to an ache in the first 24 hours, though I have never experienced any pain worse than the first 12 hours after Liz put on the bands. I would never had agreed to this had I known how much pain there was, I would have demanded the surgery.

I went back to work on Tuesday, the pain had subsided enough that I could walk around and do my job, though it was still somewhat distracting.

My balls are constantly on my mind. They are still there, they flop around as I walk and everything, but... they are numb. I can't feel anything and they are probably more or less dead. The constant erection I had while the procedure was being done has gone away, and I an as limp as ever now. In fact, I tried but I can't get it up any more. I hope that changes.

My balls started getting larger. Like, swollen. On Thursday.

And the scrotum is turning all sorts of black and red and blue and uglier than anything.

They looked like they've been beaten into a pulp and are about ready to explode or rot off... which I guess is the point. The are, in fact, rotting off.

Eventually they are supposed to shrivel instead of getting bigger, and the flesh will turn completely black and dead and just... fall off?

Liz said she might have to actually cut what's left off herself, in order to get rid of dead flesh. It isn't good to leave dead flesh attached to the body.

So... Friday... they started smelling and I came down with a fever. Yeah. Necrosis, infection, something.

Liz has a friend and got me into a clinic in a special care wing. They won't report what's going on, but I am in bed in the place, getting intravenous antibiotics. Apparently, my necrotic testicles might actually infect and spread the infection elsewhere in my body.  Bad shit.

So much for home-grown castrations. I would not recommend this to anyone... you want to get castrated, find a real doc and have them cut out with meds and aftercare and pain killers... this is getting messy and I might actually die...

In the meantime Liz is coming to visit me and discovered that the patient in the next bed is a pretty good looking guy.

"So what's your husband in for?" Asked the patient when she started hitting on him.

"We are castrating him with bands, and he's getting an infection."

"Whoaaaa.... you are kidding me. Castrating him?"

"Yeah. He has never really satisfied me, and ever since we got married I started fucking other men, and he's just been a cuckold watching. So it seemed like those balls of his were useless and removing them would make for a better... more compliant maid."

"Wow. You are a bitch, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. Sometimes. But I am also a very hot bitch." I heard the telltale sounds of her jeans getting unzipped.

Not long after that there was moaning and groaning from next to me, on the other side of the curtain. She was fucking the patient. I don't know what he has, but I hope it isn't contagious. Halfway through Liz's feet kicked open the curtain a bit and I could see them going at it.

I've gained a lot of detachment about watching my wife fuck other men over the years. She's good, I will give her that. She gets into it, her hips thrust and rock and grind, her breasts bounce and she moans and even screams.

I tried stroking my cock while I watched them fucking, since it was there and free. I still couldn't get it up. Pain... infection... whatever.

When she was done Liz sucked the guy dry, then kissed me goodnight before going home. I tasted his cum on her lips.

"That really doesn't bother you, having your wife fuck someone like me, right in front of you?" Asked my roomy after she left.

"It used to. A lot. But now... it's just... normal."

"And she really cut off your balls???"

"No. She banded me. Tight bands cut off the blood flow, killing them. They shrivel and fall off. That's the theory anyway. It isn't working out that way, which is why I am here."

Silence from next door. Finally the guy said, "I don't know whether to be sorry for you, or whether to call you a pussy."

"Call me a pussy," I said. It's just a matter of time before I have one, I figure.

The next day Liz and the doc came in to go over my case. Apparently the doc will have to perform a surgical testicle removal after all. They are dead and would fall off eventually, but the infection would probably kill me. So... off they come. I'm sort of glad really. This fever and pain is getting to me.

After the consult Liz fucked the doctor. I watched a bit then rolled over and looked at the wall while I heard the sloppy slapping noise of their fucking, and the moaning and grunting slowly getting louder and faster.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Castrated

It's happening. Right now.

Last night, Friday night, 8pm. I stripped off my dress and panties and stood before my wife, wearing nothing but my bra and high heels.

"You must be very happy about this," Liz said with a big smile. "Essentially, you aren't going to have to wear a cock cage any more. You will be free!"

I nodded my head. I couldn't be glad about anything right at that moment. I had several levels of fear.

First, there was the immediate question. Was this going to hurt? I could not imagine having my testicles crushed and killed was going to be pleasant, but just how much pain? Would I be screaming?

Second, I was / am afraid of losing my balls. Heck... I know I don't need the sperm, I will never have children. I am not man enough, my sperm will never come in contact with a human ova. Never. But... these are my balls! A part of my body! It is still scary losing them. What other side effects will happen? Will I lose my sex drive? Will I stop growing hair on my body? Will my voice change?

But the fear was just... there. I had accepted that this procedure would happen, and it was time; but it was still scary.

"Sit back on the chair now, and spread you legs," Liz looked positively happy about this.

I lay back in the big chair, put my legs up over the sides, spreading them wide. I felt so.... .exposed. Vulnerable. My cock and balls were just dangling out there, and I was going to allow Liz to do... terrible things to them.

"You look pretty scared. You know, I am not sure how much this will hurt, so ... maybe you want a gag? Something to bite down on?"

I think tears were about ready to start flowing. "Yes, Liz. Please. I think so. I feel like... like I might scream anyway. I am terrified."

My voice was shaking.

Liz pet my hair kindly. "Don't worry, Ethan. I will make sure and do this as quickly as possible. Now... let's get a gag..."

She found a nice ball gag with a head harness, but she took the panties I had just stripped off and wadded them up first. "Let's put these in nice and deep and full, OK?"

I opened my mouth, momentarily distracted from my naked genitals waiting for her. She stuffed the cloth in. They weren't too dirty, and tasted OK. The ball gag went in over the panties, pushing back against them until my mouth was crammed full and the cloth slid down my throat just a bit. She strapped the ball gag into place, pulling it tight so the strap cut into my cheek.

"Do you want me to cuff you? It might not be good if you tried to interfere in the middle of a ... sensitive operation."

I nodded again and leaned forward. My wrists were cuffed behind me.

So there I sat, laying back in the armchair, legs flung over the sides, my genitals wide open for my wife to do as she pleased to my balls. And what she pleased was to castrate me.

A tear did trickle down my cheek at that point, and Liz kissed it off. "Your tears are sweet, Ethan."

I was sitting on a plasticized cloth, one that would catch any blood and keep me from soiling the furniture or floor. There wasn't supposed to be any blood, but... can't be too careful with the carpet.

"Just breathe, Ethan, breathe and relax. It is going to be over soon. In just a moment it will be done and your balls with start the process of shriveling and falling off."

I whimpered behind the gag, closing my eyes when I saw the huge metal clamp. The burdizzo. An evil device designed to do one thing. Crush the blood vessels and nerves running to the testicles, destroying them permanently and thus killing the testicles.

"No.. no... please, no... no... please there must be some other way... no, Liz, please..." I started begging, but it was from behind the panty and ball gags, so it came out more as "mpppggggffff ffff mffff nffff nfff hhhgggnnnggggg mmgggggnnnffff".

I felt her hands take my scrotum gently and I yelped.

"Oh, come on, Ethan, nothing has happened yet. You are such a wimp. That's why you are becoming a woman, I suppose." Her fingers pulled and arrange my testicles inside my scrotum, holding them delicately. "OK, are you ready for the first stage now, babe?"

"NNNNGGGG NGGGHGHGHHHFFFFFF!" I cried, my head waggling back and forth. I was losing my nerve.

"Legs apart! Don't bring them together!" Liz yelped in a warning tone. It was all I could do to keep them spread wide, I pushed against the arms of the chair to spread them as wide as I could rather than let them come back together.

With my balls more or less in place I felt the cold steel of the burdizzo blades slide into place behind the left testicle, closer to my body. I was yelling now from behind my gag, though my legs... I kept them spread. I was panting, hyperventilating.

"Calm now, Ethan. Here we go."

Her hands left my scrotum and I felt the burdizzo clamps sort of move a little as she grasped the handles. "NNNSSIUGGGFFFGFGFGGFUGHFGGGFUGHGFGGFGFGFFFFF" I cried out.

Suddenly they smashed down. It was without warning and even though I knew it was coming it took me by surprise. They came down and smashed, squeezing harder than I thought anything ever could. They felt like they were squashing my balls, splattering little bits of destroyed testicle all over the floor and walls. I screamed.

It actually only lasted a couple of seconds. She clamped down on the grips hard, crushing the vas deferens quickly, and then moved the burdizzo to the other side.

"You are doing good, Ethan, keep it up, I am proud of you, proud of you!" She was saying the entire time. I was sobbing, I am not sure if it was from pain or terror, maybe both. It hurt, it really hurt a lot. It felt like I had gotten kicked in the balls and then had been punched in the stomach.

The cold steel blade of the burdizzo was positioned behind my right testicle now. My legs were shaking uncontrollably and began to close, I couldn't help it.

There was a sharp pain in my right thigh. I opened my eyes and saw that she had placed an ice pick between my thighs. Any attempt to close my thighs would result in my getting skewered by the pick. It wasn't a really secure method of forcing my legs apart, but it was enough to remind me of what I was supposed to do.

My legs spread again and the burdizzo clamp suddenly squeezed down, crushing the tissues behind my right testicle, resulting in another whimpering scream.

When she pressed down, clamping off the vas deferens and blood vessels inside my scrotum, she made a sudden, hard movement. The clamp truly crushed and destroyed. The handles were so large they provided a lot of leverage to completely smash the sensitive tissue.

"NNNNNNffffffffffffffffff" I moaned, banging my head against the chair behind me in pain and frustration.

"It's done! It's done, baby! There's a little blood, but not bad, not at all! You can relax now, it's done!"

Liz was being so amazingly nice, she caressed my face, licking my tears, kissing my gagged lips.

The sharp pain my my balls slowly subsided to a dull ache, and I managed to stop crying and panting.

Liz was preparing the second phase. We had agreed that we wanted to make sure there was a clean break, complete and total death of my balls so there was little chance of infection and the necrosis would set in as quickly as possible.

Thus, the second phase-- the elastration. The burdizzo was supposed to destroy the blood flow, but as a backup Liz was applying a band using the elastrator. I would wear this for a few days, during which my balls should die quickly and shrivel.

Also, according to her research, the elastrator would nicely remove a good part of the empty scrotum, allowing it to be removed along with the dead testicles, leaving a smaller remnant of my sack. Without the elastrator, sepsis could set in.

I couldn't feel her working as much with the elastrator. She had it prepared with the band-- two bands actually, for double safety. I guess she really wanted to make sure my balls came off as thoroughly as possible. My balls were in pain from the burdizzo, and I was just moaning and trying hard not to thrash about too much as she grabbed my scrotum and pulled it out.

That hurt a bit, the damaged scrotum and internal tissues were stretched and pulled and I let out a muffled scream again.

"Hang in there, baby, we are almost done. Just getting the bands on, it will be fine, hang in there." Liz kept up her reassuring patter. I supposed it helped some.

She told me later that during the entire procedure I had an erection. A "massive hardon" is the way she described it. I don't know why, all I felt was the pain and tugging down there as she worked.

My entire body was shaking and I looked down to see my bruised, slightly bloody and bulging testicle sack slipping through the band. She began working to roll the band off the elastrator's posts and I could feel them snap into place around my scrotum, increasing the pain. They went in right where the burdizzo had destroyed my ballsack, and each snap off the post brought another yelp of pain.

The real tightness of the band didn't set in until she rolled it off the last post and took the metal elastrator away.

"Done!!!" She said happily, smiling wide. "Oh, goooood boy. Good boy. For now. Soon you will be my good girl. Don't you feel relieved, feel good about this? You are on your way!"

I didn't feel happy. It hurt. The pressure of the band was so incredibly tight, and it was right on the destroyed tissue, it was all I could think about.

"Let's get you some ice." Liz got up and went to the kitchen. She brought back a bowl of ice and gently rested by bruised and damaged scrotum on the cold. She then gently washed the blood off.

"Oh, this looked nice. Let's get your restraints off." She reached behind me, unlocked the cuffs and then removed the ball gag. I let out an immediate sob when the panties came out.

"Oh, come on. You are doing well, you have to admit. It's over, too. You've passed the point of no return, it's done, and it should be a tremendous relief to you!"

I nodded, trying to compose myself. It was done. I still had balls, but there was no way I could keep them now. It was just a matter of time, a few days before they were completely dead. A couple of weeks after that the scrotum would be shriveled and dead and could be cut off. It was inevitable now. It was done.

I curled up on the floor and sobbed.

This all happened last night. It's been a full day, and the pain remains with me. It is horrible. I spend much of my time just curled up in bed. Liz has been able to provide me with some pain killers; they don't actually get rid of the pain but I can sleep with them, at least.

I'm wearing my best panties and stockings, and I am beginning to feel more feminine that ever. My cock is still there and hard, which is sort of strange, knowing my balls are on their way out.

We had discussed whether I would need to be restrained to keep me from trying to get the bands off. It turns out that isn't necessary. Firstly, my balls are ruined from the burdizzo anyway; taking the bands off will just prolong the process. Secondly, the bands are incredibly strong and tight. There is no way I could get them off without some solid but small scissors, and Liz has collected anything that might work and hidden them.

So I am free to touch and play with the band as much as I want. I don't want. It just hurts.

I think the pain is beginning to subside, though. It isn't agonizing any more. It's more of just a dull ache. And my scrotum has turned blackish. If I touch my balls, I can't feel anything.

Twenty-four hours later, and I think my balls are dead already.

It's the strangest thing though, Liz was right. I have had an almost constant erection during this whole thing. I tried masturbating; I haven't had the freedom to get to my cock in months, but... the pain is too much. I gave up trying to stroke myself to an orgasm after about thirty seconds.




Tuesday, May 30, 2017

My Balls Are Useless


I was laying on my back while Liz slid needles into my balls, slowly, one at a time. I screamed while she chatted with me about my pending castration. I have come to realize Liz isn't going to castrate me because I have been disobedient. It seems to be more on some sort of principle she has.

"I've been thinking about it some more, babe. Being castrated actually makes a lot of sense for you. Your testicles really serve only one purposes these days, and that's to hold your cock cage in place. But if you were castrated, you wouldn't need the cage as much. And just think-- I am currently abusing your balls a lot, it relaxes me when I come home. So if they are gone, I won't be able to do that any more. Another reason you should look forward to losing your globes.

She's right, she has started abusing my balls a lot recently.  Liz has turned cruel toward me in general.

Her favorite way to relax in the evenings from a hard day at work is to listen to me whimper in pain, and maybe let one of her boyfriends make me hurt as well.

You remember the ball stand she got? The bracket that squeezes and holds my balls in place while I stand next to it? She uses it most every night now. I stand before it, locked in place, unable to move, while she torments me.

Liz kicks, whips and pounds my balls. There is nothing I can do except take it, begging for mercy that never comes.

Last week she had three of her studs over at once.

It has become routine that I am to service her studs. They come over to fuck her, but also to hurt me and fuck me as well. But three at once? I told myself that if Liz can handle three of those guys at once, I can too.

I tried my best. Two of them would hold me down while a third fucked me in the ass. Now remember, these aren't just anyone-- they are Liz's favorite studs known for having big cocks. The two held me in place while the third rammed home.

My locked genitals just flopped around while they fucked me, one at a time. If she had released my cock I think I probably would have cum-- I have grown to enjoy getting ass fucked quite a bit., Even though her studs do stretch me to my limits and I am really sore afterward.

She might be right. Once I am castrated, she won't be able to lock my cock up any more. That might mean I would be able to masturbate, maybe even have sex sometimes. Even if she doesn't allow that, it might be a big advantage to just not have to wear the cock cage any more.

So what if I don't have balls? She's right-- I don't need them any more. Not like I am going to have children.

I am becoming more and more proud of just how pretty I look, as well. Liz takes me out on shopping trips now and no one knows that I am a guy. I look and act just like a pretty girl; I even use the women's dressing room and rest rooms.

After all, I hardly ever wear men's clothing any more. For all intents and purposes, I am a girl. I wear girl clothes, I fuck guys, I do the housework and take care of the child.

I've lost weight and am so proud that I have a sexy, feminine looking body and legs.

And here's a secret... she doesn't know that I know, but she's been slipping me some hormones. They have been making my skin smoother and my breasts have enlarged a little!

Why do I still have balls?

Liz postponed the castration until she's done some more research on methods.

Seriously, I don't know which way would be best. Surgery is the normal way for humans but it is more invasive and requires medical expertise.

Banding and the burdizzo are both effective and simple. They work the same way, by destroying the blood vessels supplying blood to the testicles, causing them to shrivel and waste away.

I hope she chooses one of those methods.

God I love Liz. In spite of her turning me into a cuckold sissy boy, she is the most majestic woman I know. I am privileged that she even allows me around her, allows me to see her naked and allows me to see her fuck her boyfriends.

She has begun to demand worship recently, too. It isn't hard for me to give to her, she is worthy of worshiping. I've always loved her, and now that I am her sissy pet, worship just seems to come easily.

Oh-- you might remember I told you about the whip she bought? She uses that to guide me in worship. She demands that I kneel and she will crack the whip. If I do not act fast enough, or use the right position, or be humble enough, she will slash me with it.

I deserve the whip. I was afraid of it when it first arrived and I suppose I still am. But I also embrace it. It is an extension of Liz and her will to dominate me. I worship the whip as part of her.

Castration next Friday night. 8:00 PM.