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The Early Years By: Special My love for cutting began early, in my teens actually. As a wild tom-boy growing up on a ranch with nothing but cowhands for company, it’s small wonder I didn’t participate in the usual girl things that might have been more appropriate. I actually slid easily into the workings of the ranch, and I was always an enthusiastic participant at round-ups. The biggest reason being that I followed in my own mothers footsteps, and I began to help with castrating calves at branding time. Under her tutelage, I learned the deft strokes of a sharp knife that would quickly, and safely, emasculate the young bulls. I’ll be the first to admit their wild-eyed look and futile struggles were a turn-on as they felt the hot burn of the knife slitting open their scrotums. The bawls of shocked pain from the scraping cut of the knife on the testicle cords, was music to my ears. I knew they were feeling the ultimate loss of their masculinity, and it was exciting. I was always aware of the intense wetness between my legs whenever I was cutting, and that night as I lay in bed listening to the calves as they continued to bawl, my fingers went straight to my pussy. I thrashed in the throes of orgasm for most of the night as I thought of the lost balls. As I grew older, I noticed something just a little unusual a few times. Not often, but often enough to arouse my curiosity when it happened. From time to time my father and the hired help would be away for a couple days. Nothing unusual, just mending fences and the myriad of other chores that were a constant thing on a working ranch. What was odd was at those times there always seemed to be a woman I recognized from the community who would arrive with a strange man. Her husband never once accompanied her, and the pair of them, along with my mother, would carefully steal away to a small shop adjacent to one of the smaller corrals. There was mostly just tack kept in there, and when the men were away, it was near empty except for the sturdy sawhorses for saddle storage, and a couple tables. The shed had no windows, and I once kept watch as they went in there. It was a long while before they came out, and the man who accompanied them appeared dazed as they emerged. The woman I recognized was always quick to run for her truck and drive very close to the shed, and the women and my mother always had to assist the man into the cab of the truck. It was an odd sight, but I never questioned my mother about it. My cutting skills were kept constantly honed from my little part-time activities at Mr. Henson’s hog barn. He paid me, and rather well, to do all the necessary castrations of his hogs. It mostly involved removing the bean-sized balls from tiny piglets, and that required nothing more than a couple flicks of the blade to excise them. Sometimes my job was far more interesting, and exciting. That was when a breeding boar had reached the end of his usefulness as a sire, either to excessive size or incompatible lineage. These were the cuttings I lived for. On one particular afternoon, Mr. Henson called and asked if I was free for a couple hours to assist him. My mother knew of my job of course, and she innocently questioned him about what sort of castration I was going to be performing. When Mr. Henson told her I was going to cut one of his older boars, my mother insisted on going to observe the proceedings, and assist if necessary since she knew I’d never had all that much practice on larger sets of balls. A full grown boar definitely had large balls. When we arrived at the Henson farm, Mr. Henson greeted us. He told us the boar was already restrained in a pen, and that he would lash him down further once we were ready. I was giddy with excitement as we walked toward the barn. I’d seen these boars in action on many occasions as they serviced the large sows that were the cornerstone of the Henson hog operation. The balls on these boars were gigantic, like oversized footballs hanging off their asses. As I got out my knife, emasculator, and the large bottle of turpentine from the small black case I carried my equipment in, Mom and Mr. Henson passed a rope through the narrow pen and tied the boar tightly against one side of the pen. He grunted in protest, but I knew he would be protesting a lot louder very soon. The boar remained quite docile as Mom scrubbed his entire scrotum, and I think he actually liked the sensation of her fondling his balls this roughly. As she moved aside and I took her place behind the huge animal, I knelt down and began the initial cut down the sac containing his left testicle. The boar grunted and hunched as I continued cutting lower, carefully peeling away the inner membranes and slowly baring the thick cord attaching his ball, and the huge white orb itself. Working carefully, I actually held the huge testicle as I pulled away all the connecting membranes. Mom handed me the sterilized emasculators and I slid the jaws around the cord, sliding it up as close as possible to the junction of flesh and cord. Squeezing as hard as I possible could, I heard the satisfying crunch of the jaws biting into the cord and tearing it apart. A slight twist and the full heft of the testicle dropped into my hand. I held the warm ball for a moment, but dropped it quickly as the boar squealed ungodly loud and fought the restraints. Cutting off such huge balls had to be excruciating, and I worked a lot quicker at freeing up his last nut. The scream from the boar as the emasculator completed his castration was deep and soulful. It was as though he knew I’d just taken his very maleness, and his days of spraying ropes of hot semen in any sow were over. As a male he was useless for his intended purpose. I was excited, aroused, and perfectly giddy with lust at the thrill I’d just experienced. Even mother was wide-eyed and breathing heavily. That’s when I noticed the pronounced bulge in the front of Mr. Henson’s cover-alls. Could a man get excited at witnessing such a thing? A castration? All while knowing the consequence of being cut? The thought of Mr. Henson being turned on from watching, was still reeling in my mind when my mother suddenly reached and ran her hand over the front of his cover-alls, pressing and squeezing where his balls should be hanging. “Call me when you want me to do you Eddie. Karin needs to learn to do a man. She could do you if you like.” I thought Mr. Henson was going to pass out he got so flushed, and that’s when I noticed the growing wet spot on the front of his cover-alls. Did he just ejaculate? As we walked toward our truck, I asked my mother, “What did you mean by what you said to Mr. Henson? And did he get excited…and you know…ejaculate?” “Well Karin, you’re old enough to know some truths about men,” she laughed. “And the fact is there are men out there that love the idea of being castrated, and especially by a woman.” “Really! Why on earth would they like or want that?” “It’s just something they need and want badly,” Mom replied as her arm wrapped my shoulder. “And it’s very exciting for the woman to be doing it too.” “Have you…you know...ever?” I ask. “Yes. Quite a few times actually. Have you ever noticed Edith bring over men and we go into the tack room?” “Yeah I’ve noticed.” “Well that’s what goes on in there. Castrations. I castrate those sorts of men. The men that crave that more than anything,” she replies. “I’m known as a ‘cutter’ in certain circles, and men seek me out for just that reason.” “Can I watch some time? Can I learn to do that too?” “Of course you can!” she laughed, “And from what I’ve seen today, Eddie Henson might just be the next customer.” “He wants that?” “Oh yes…he definitely wants that,” mom laughs. “And I’m positive it’s you he wants to do it.” Three days later Mr. Henson called again. This time I was to castrate the largest boar on his farm, an enormous bruiser by the name of Rocky. I told Mr. Henson I’d be over first thing in the morning. When Mom heard that I was going to cut Rocky, she insisted in helping out. She also thought she’d bring her own equipment just in case. I thought it a little unusual, but nothing more. The familiar giddy excitement flowed through me like fire in my veins as I prepped my equipment and Mr. Henson secured the large boar. Whoever coined the phrase ‘rocky as a boar’s ass’ was certainly referring to Rocky. His gigantic balls hung low, and strained the large bags of skin that contained them. His balls were almost as big as soccer balls, and I was glad that mom would assist. These balls were too big to cut free and hold at the same time. Both mom and I knelt behind Rocky, and she washed his scrotum as I readied my trusty knife, arranging it and the emasculators on a cloth spread beside me. Rocky barely grunted as I began the vertical cut on the left testicle. As the skin parted, I gently opened the cut more and more. As I neared the underside of his ball, mom reached and grasped the huge nut in both hands, slowly pulling it away as I worked the cord free of the connecting tissues. She held and pulled the huge testicle as I maneuvered the emasculator around the rope-thick cord attaching it. Rocky was actually standing quiet, and probably enjoying the sensation of mom squeezing and holding his huge testicle. He was neither still nor quiet the moment the emasculator jaws gripped and began crushing his cord. He squealed loudly as I squeezed with both hands and finally heard the crunch of the separating cord. I had to knife the tough outer membrane of the cord as the emasculator wouldn’t go through. Finally the ball was free, and mom tossed it right at Mr. Henson’s feet. It was as though Rocky finally realized exactly what was happening to him, and he fought. He fought hard, squealing and grunting against the ropes. It was a helpless effort though, and the moment he stopped I resumed my cutting. It was as though he was resigned to his fate, and he just squealed but stood perfectly still as I worked on his other nut. My fingers were quivering with excitement as I grasped the thick cord and guided it into the jaws of the emasculator. I could feel the warm flow of blood, and I knew I’d be crushing the very life from Rocky’s last testicle in just a moment. I thought of all the sperm and hormones that had flowed from the huge nut through that cord. The very essence of his maleness. I was drenched at the crotch as the emasculator took Rocky’s last ball, and his baleful squeal and grunted lunge told me he understood. I loved the sensation of being the one to wield such immense power. Mom was panting with excitement as she tossed the huge ball aside. I looked up to see Mr. Henson standing right next to me, and I looked directly at his obvious rock-hard erection. “Come on Eddie, its time. I know you want this,” Mom said as she rose up and took Mr. Henson’s hand. “I’ll help Karin do you right now.” “Ok,” Mr. Henson replied shakily. “Ok.” “Come on Karin,” Mom said. “And fetch my equipment bag from the truck.” “We’re going to…” “Yes Karin. We’re going to castrate Eddie.” We all kicked off out boots at the entrance to the house, and I followed mom and Mr. Henson directly to his bedroom in the back of the house. I was a little surprised as mom began removing her clothes, as did Mr. Henson. “You too Karin,” mom said. “You need to be naked for this as well.” I watched and undressed as both mom and Mr. Henson removed their clothing. I was quite excited to see Mr. Henson’s cock so stiff and upright. I’d never actually seen a man’s cock at this point. Sure I’d felt an erection through a guy’s jeans before, but I had never actually seen how a cock stands so upright and proud. And the balls…oh how sweet those balls look. I watch as Mr. Henson sits on the edge of the bed and then lays back, his legs still on the floor. I walk over beside him, naked as a jaybird. I think his cock stiffens even more. “Can I touch it?” I ask as mom readies her equipment. “Can I touch his cock?” “Of course you can. It’s expected, and even necessary,” mom replied. “We’ll have to make him cum while we castrate him.” I watched with some fascination as mom knelt between his legs and spread his legs as far apart as possible. She then used her electric razor to shave Mr. Henson’s bag and some of the hair surrounding his crotch. Her other hand firmly grasping his cock, and stroking it slowly. “Here Karin, use your hands on his cock while I finish shaving him,” mom said. “But not too hard. We don’t want him going off just yet.” Mr. Henson looked at me, and I saw his eyes rove my breasts and lower to my crotch. He simply gazed for a moment, and then closed his eyes as my hand explored a man’s cock for the first time. I liked how he moaned as my fingers traced the flared crown, and I saw a droplet of clear fluid oozing from the tip. I moved closer to the bed as Mr. Henson’s hand reached to cup my ass, and I felt his fingers reaching. I couldn’t help but spread a little, and I felt his fingers touch in that special spot that always made me quiver. I pressed against his fingers as the sensations built. “We’re going to cut you Eddie,” my mother says quiet and soothingly as her fingers rub and manipulate Mr. Henson’s balls. “And it’s Karin who will emasculate you. She will be the one to cut the manhood from you. It will be at her hand that you feel the very moment of that loss. The loss of ever being a total man again. Do you want that Eddie? Do you really want that?” “Yes,” Mr.’ Henson croaks in a voice steeped in lust. “Please yes…please.” I’m in awe that a woman can have such control over a man. And that a man would so want this, and to almost beg to have his balls cut out. “Come here Karin. I’ll tell you exactly what to do. You’ll do the castrating this time.” I missed the sensation of Mr. Henson’s fingers pressed against my pussy, but I wanted to cut him even more. I was flushed with desire, and it was a desire to castrate. Moving into position between Mr. Henson’s legs, I saw mom had laid out her equipment on a black velvet cloth just off to one side. I saw the droop of scrotum from the rather impressively sized balls, and I immediately wanted to cut. My hands were amazingly steady as I snapped on the latex gloves and picked up the delicate little scalpel. “Make a very small incision,” my mother coached as I touched the scalpels edge to the soft skin of Mr. Henson’s scrotum. “You just need a small incision on both sides.” As the thin line of red followed the keen edge down the side of Mr. Henson’s left testicle, he flinched slightly. “That’s ok Eddie,” my mother crooned as she stroked his cock. “The burn will go away soon enough. Karin will have you’re balls out real soon.” I could see the veined purplish orb showing, and I stopped. I listened and followed my mothers explicit instructions. Under her guidance, I soon had both of Mr. Henson’s balls out of his scrotum and laying on their respective thighs. I was amazed at how long the attaching cords were. No animal I’d cut had cords this long. I listened as my mother told Eddie what his balls looked like, how big they were. And how they were swelling with his final spurt of cum as an entire man. His cock was raging hard as mother spoke to him. I picked up the small and delicately sized emasculators as mother leaned toward me and whispered, “Take his last ball before he’s done squirting his load. They love that.” I watched in awe as my mother moved beside Mr. Henson and took his cock into her mouth, licking and sucking as she stroked. I’d never seen this before, nor even contemplated that my mother might know about such things. Still intently watching Mr. Henson’s cock sliding in and out of my mothers mouth, I noticed the most amazing thing. Mr. Henson’s balls were indeed getting larger, in fact a lot larger, and he began moaning. “Get ready Karin,” My mother hisses as her mouth left his cock for just a moment. “Cut him while he’s squirting! And cut him high!” I slipped the emasculator jaws around the twisting cord of his left testicle, shoving the jaws just inside the slit in his scrotum. I knew what a high cut was. Mother’s mouth came off the end of Mr. Henson’s cock, and I felt his nut swell even more, and pulsate as I grasped it between my fingers. “Now Karin,” she cried out as I looked up and saw semen jetting from Mr. Henson’s cock all over my mothers face. “Take them! Castrate him now!” The squirting seemed to intensify as I crushed the cord on the left nut and immediately got the emasculators around the opposite cord. Mr. Henson’s cried out and his hips bucked wildly as the jaws tore through the cord, and his last nut came away in my hand. I was so excited that my own orgasm came as almost a shock. I actually dropped the emasculators and grabbed my crotch with both hands as I realized what I’d just done, and how good it felt. I was hooked on the heady sensations. I heard what sounded like choking moans coming from Mr. Henson as my mother continued to slowly stroke his withering cock. A couple last dribbles of semen dripped as she let it flop onto his cum-drenched belly. I never knew a man could ejaculate that much. “I’m going to leave you something for the pain Eddie,” my mother said softly. “And I’ll come check on you later. It looks real good though. It was a very clean castration.” After cleaning up the wounds on the side of Mr. Henson’s scrotum, mother and I left him resting on the bed. The painkillers would take effect soon, and the ice pack was already helping. Looking at his flaccid and very shriveled cock excited me. Never again would it stand thick, swollen, and so manly proud. I’d made him that way. I had taken his manhood. I had castrated him. As we drove home, our discussion centered on castrating men, and how my mother got as turned on while doing it as I did. She confessed to actually fucking men prior to castrating them, at least the young and more inexperience ones. She told me she lost her virginity during a castration, and she fucked the subject as another cutter did him. It’s also how I chose to lose my own. In the years since I cut Mr. Henson, I’ve been called upon, perhaps even more often than my mother, to castrate the men that relish the thought of a woman taking their manhood. Nothing is more exciting than seeing the last swollen nut cut from a man. The knife is the method I prefer for a castration, and the one I most often recommend. In conversations with post-castration men, it was the sudden intense pain and the absolute profoundness of the instant finality of manhood that made their castrations so special. Some choose other means of ending their manhood, and of course I willingly oblige. I’ve banded many a submissive eager to sacrifice his balls to his mistress, and the long delayed castration leaves her panting. I’ve used burdizzo squeezes on straying husbands brought to me by angry wives. The burdizzo is perfect for them; with it’s quick, clean, and sudden finality as the wife watches and grins. For the men who simply desire relief from the powerful urges coursing through their veins, I always recommend the knife. There is nothing more final than a man watching as his balls dangle from my fingers. These are all men that can never forget the special moment in their lives that only a cutter like me can provide. Could you? |