Affirmative Action

A group of women set up an organisation that castrates males at 
their wives request.

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Affirmative Action

"So, Roberta let's see."   Began Helen Marks, staring across from 
behind her large antique oak desk,  "you ummm, want a certain 
person,  castrated?"   A pause followed as Helen, smartly dressed in 
a dark blue business suit and harsh white blouse,  patiently awaited 
an answer.

Sitting opposite,  Roberta swallowed.  She was plain, bordering on 
plump and her demure held none of the professional aura she saw in 
Helen.   Her fingers went nervously to push back a wisp of 
recalcitrant mousy hair which had flittered across her forehead.  
"You see it's mainly because…."  She tailed off as Helen interrupted 
with an impatient wave of her hand.

"Please,  we have no need of explanations."  Then she conceded a 
slow smile. It was infectious and Roberta responded with an obedient 
twitch of her lips.  "You see," Helen continued, "it's of no 
importance to us and we'd have no guarantee of the truth anyway.  
We're not judgmental. You've made your decision, we respect it."   
She deftly donned her silver rimmed spectacles and peered down at 
the file before her.   At 45 she had a trim figure and though a 
little austere,  her face was attractive if in a cool and officious 
way.  With no make up her thin lips could look cruel but today they 
were filled out with adept application of restrained claret.  Her 
ice blue eyes held a hint of amused mischief as she glanced up and 
remarked. "You are not unusual wishing this you know."

"All he ever wants is sex."  Roberta blurted out as though she 
hadn't heard Helen's interruption.  "Sorry."  She sniffed and, when 
Helen didn't respond, she went on defensively, "I feel better 
discussing it."  

Helen switched on a warmth that immediately eased Roberta's 
discomfort,   "that's quite all right my dear, I just mean you were 
under no obligation to qualify yourself to me.  You, er quite sure 
though,  I mean it is a big step for…."  She glanced down again at 
the file,  "Bobby?"

Roberta's eyes widened,  "He needs it. He really does.  It'd be good 
for him."  .  

Helen pursed her lips and explained gently.  "What is more important 
than, 'why' is 'how'.  We do restrict the pain as that can have 
serious side effects,  heart and all that sort of thing…"  She 
leaned back in her black leather chair,  put her finger tips 
together in front of her face and continued, "But some women do want 
their husbands to realise they're being castrated.  They want to 
hear them beg to be allowed to remain a man.  Conversely, some want 
it over as quickly and quietly as possible.   He goes to sleep,  
he's castrated,  he wakes up a gelding. He has no idea his wife 
arranged it."   Her hands dropped to her lap.  "I have to point out, 
 we do not approve of wives who have their husbands castrated as a 
pre-cursor to divorce - a revenge.  We can't stop it but we don't 
encourage it".  She added thoughtfully.  "What we offer is a sort of 
'Affirmative Action' in an ongoing relationship."

"I do understand that,  but you know, this is nothing like that with 
me. Not revenge no."  Roberta's head shook firmly.  "I just want the 
sex out of our lives."  Her brown eyes dropped to study her hands 
twisting in her lap. "He plays around,  I don't like that."

"Roberta."  Helen asked patiently.  "To come to the detail,  have 
you any special way in mind that you want er, Bobby,  castrated?"

Roberta looked up and met Helen's eyes,  a hint of malice crept into 
the way she spoke. "Not really,  but I want him to know what's 
happening,  to realise he's going to be cut. By a woman. After all, 
it's the ultimate humiliation… isn't it?"  Her big eyes looked 
anxiously for confirmation.

"Oh yes."   Helen peered over her glasses. "Well proven. The 
sweeties are quite subservient afterwards.  It works with all 
animals."  She flashed a reassuring smile.

Roberta bit her lip,  swallowed and asked quietly.   "I suppose I 
shouldn't ask this but,  er, did,  er, did you have your husband er, 
done?"

 "No….  you're right. You shouldn't ask." Said Helen with mock 
severity, before mellowing. "But for the record, the answer is yes." 
 Her brow furrowed thoughtfully,   "I suppose it was that day which 
spawned this organisation."   She paused,  then leaned forward 
conspiratorially,  "About a year ago. I was discussing his 
infidelities with a group of friends from the women's business 
group. Tara,  suddenly remarked how easy it would be to stop him.   
She explained how her husband had been castrated for prostate 
reasons,  she said it had turned him into quite the gentleman - 
certainly no more Tom Catting about.  And I suppose one thing led to 
another.  In my case we organised it that my husband pick up a girl 
from a bar,  all pre-arranged of course.  The poor dear couldn't 
believe his luck. An attractive girl,  inviting him back to her 
apartment? She slipped him a drug which dulled him but didn't put 
him out. She persuaded him to let her secure him.  He was actually 
giggling".   Helen paused and stood up,  she strolled over to the 
large window.  The sweating city lay far below her in a hazy fog.  
Roberta waited,  she was intrigued but couldn't help but note 
Helen's firm calves and the dark sheer denier stockings that implied 
sensuality.  

Helen hugged herself, a thin smile played at her lips as she spoke 
to the city.   "He didn't even know I was there, in the background 
of the room.  She teased him,  then finally she held up a knife in 
front of his eyes and told him she was raped as a young girl.  Her 
destiny was to make men pay.  Then,  calmly putting the knife down 
and picking up a camera she took some photos.  It was then he 
stopped giggling."  Helen turned to face Roberta,  her outline 
starkly black against the brightness of the plate window.  "I saw 
fear as the realisation of his predicament sank in.  His face white, 
a sheen of terrified perspiration. The girl was down to tiny blue 
panties.  I remember thinking how firm her breasts were, rather 
erotic.  Remarkable, for women do not normally inspire any desire in 
me."  Helen frowned for a moment then went on. "The girl stood over 
him and explained in detail how she was going to castrate him. She 
said he was a lucky man,  she was merely going to remove his 
testicles - nothing else.  A kindness really.  I recall mentally 
agreeing with her.    He began to plead with her so she taped his 
mouth.  Then she used what appeared to be an elastrator,  and gave 
him a pain killing injection before cutting him."  Quickly she 
added. "Don't worry,  all the girls we use to castrate the men are 
very skilled.  We are not amateurs.  We'd arranged for a doctor to 
arrive as though by accident, soon afterwards. My husband was too 
dazed to reason it out,  he never questioned the serendipity of it 
all."

"Didn't he call the police?" 

"And face the publicity?  Good Lord no."   Helen chuckled.  "The 
doctor reassured him that she understood.  Explaining that this sort 
of thing happened sometimes.  A sex game going horribly wrong, that 
sort of thing, sordid perhaps, but that's all.  She was prepared to 
keep it quiet - discrete. Even offered to help sell the cover story 
to me as his wife,  how she'd found him in a doorway, attacked by 
thugs."   Helen strode back to her seat. "Would you believe,  the 
little sweetie actually apologised to me that such a thing had 
happened to him.  We didn't even have to use the photos on him. And 
you'd be amazed how much leverage him being a eunuch gives me in our 
relationship.  He will,  quite literally, do anything I ask to keep 
his little secret.  To his colleagues he is still a stallion,  only 
I know better."   Helen's tongue slipped over her lips.  "Oh yes,  
he knows his place now. He really is my little gelding."     With a 
start,  Helen briskly returned to the present and looked down at the 
file before her.  "We've castrated nearly fifty men since.  I can 
assure you, there are a lot more happy little women out there now 
than there were a year ago." 

"It sounds easy."   Roberta murmured.

"Oh no, not easy". Helen said,  a trifle irritated.  "Every 
castration is different.  You see, we have to meet the specific 
needs of every customer - that's why it costs so much." She coolly 
continued.   "You merely let us have the cheque and your 
instructions,  everything will happen automatically,  you have no 
more worries."

"What about sex for you?"

"You are inquisitive aren't you."

"Oh, I'm Sorry I didn't mean….." Roberta floundered for a moment.

"That's all right."  Helen pondered on the issue.  "I can get sex 
whenever I want.  Most women can.  On occasion I let my dearest know 
that another man is going to pleasure me - it adds to his 
humiliation.  And, rarely,  I even let him satisfy me orally. I make 
him kneel in front of me.  I remind him tearfully that it was all 
his fault in the first place that he couldn't satisfy me as a real 
man can.  It is all quite amusing.  You'll find that castrated 
males,  like puppies,  respond well to steady ongoing obedience 
training"

"I can't wait."  Said Roberta,  starting to move.

Helen rose with Roberta and offered her hand.  "Soon your Bobby will 
be no more a man than you, Roberta."    She tilted her head to one 
side and said hesitantly.  "You can still have it done officially,  
in a hospital?"

Roberta stiffened,  "no,  if I wish to be castrated then I want it 
done this way,  Bobby deserves the humiliation."  She pulled herself 
erect her eyes flashing.  "I don't want to be Bobby any more."  Her 
Adams apple moved up and down.  "I want to be like you Helen."  She 
said contritely.   "Maybe later,  I'll have it tidied up, become a 
proper woman."    She turned away,  and moved purposefully towards 
the door at the far side of the clinically smart office. 

"Bye bye…… Roberta."  Helen whispered as Roberta, nee Bobby firmly 
closed the door behind him.


End