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.
