By Jocelyn

The audience are hidden behind a barrage of spotlights, with just a few anonymous faces visible, peering up from the tables closest to the stage. There is a hum of expectation as I take the microphone and proceed to explain why I want my husband castrated. As I speak the women at the tables below me, smirk and nod. It is hot, and a haze of cigarette smoke hovers above the glare of the lights. Surely I wonder, exhibiting a total lack of logic, that indoor smoking in public places is illegal nowadays? But this is the old Eastern Europe and things are done differently here, very differently it seems…

“A pot plant has more excitement in its life than our marriage!” My husband Guy, snapped.

And that had begun our quest, or rather his quest, for a pinch of spice in our lives. He’d heard that Albania had some unique night life and, with some misgivings, I’d succumbed to his persuasion to holiday there.

Within days of arrival we’d been invited to a ‘unique’ international nightclub called ‘Extremis’. The lingua franca was English and the acts spectacular, though a tad bizarre. To my surprise, at our arrival we were placed in seats to the very front and drinks quickly arrived, the club ‘special’ so we were informed. Guy grinned and explained that the club membership was very exclusive and he’d been lucky to make the contact to get us an invite. I remained sceptical, but my misgivings slowly began to evaporate as the music and the crowded garish atmosphere took hold. Guy, surprisingly soon, became loud and began to slur his words.

A slender young woman appeared on stage, dressed in a skin tight black cat suit, cut high to give the impression, well deserved, of long shapely legs. A black choker was around her neck. Her voice was husky and her accent sounded German. “Ladies and gentlemens,” She purred like a reincarnation of Marlene Deitrich, and the audience fell into immediate silence. “Now it is time for ze star performance.” The hush grew more expectant with only a single cough breaking the loaded silence. “One of you vomen, vill offer up your man to become one who inhabits ze sexual tvilight.” She looked across at the frozen crowd, then her cobalt flint eyes caught mine and I swallowed hard.

“What does she mean?” I hissed to Guy.

“They are going to castrate a man on stage.” He murmured. Then grinned at my expression. “Don’t worry, it’s only simulated.” He continued, sounding disappointed. “But cleverly done, apparently you’d not know that it wasn’t real. Gives the girls a real treat.” His lips curled into a sneer at my look of distaste and a frizzle of anger spluttered within me.

“You wanted excitement,” I snapped, “what about you?”

“Me? You’d have to nominate me, and you’d never dare!” He said, dripping with sarcasm.

The woman on the stage tossed back her blonde hair and spoke again. “My name is Satania, Frau of ze devil.” She husked. “I need a man vorthy of such attention.” Again her eyes caught mine and I detected a hint of smile and slight rise of an eyebrow. My head felt unusually light and Guy’s words echoed around my mind.

“Mine!” I impulsively shouted up to her.

Guy started, and spun towards me as the audience erupted in a wave of hysteria – clapping and whistling. Satania’s mouth opened to display a dazzling white smile. She thrust out her arms sideways, and flicked the fingers of both hands. From her left and right appeared two young men, with shapely and finely toned muscled torsos, one blond, one raven haired. Almost opposites, with one thing in common. They were both eunuchs.

“Marcus, and Rufus.” Satania introduced, as each took her hand. They were naked save for a thick leather necklace. Marcus smiled and nodded obediently, his penis hung limply but even so must have measured at least 20 centimetres. Rufus’s was barely an acorn. A mere wisp of pubic hair revealed clearly that each lacked testes.

“My two dear geldings.” She cooed, stroking the hair of Marcus. “We have someone who vishes to join your sect.” And nodded towards our table. As though at a hidden command, both trotted down the side of the stage and across to our table. Guy shrugged and lifted his hands in mock surrender as he stood and allowed himself to be hauled onto stage. Satania crooked a finger to me and, with mounting trepidation, I followed. My head was still swirling with the unaccustomed drink and my chest heaved in spasm of excitement. I blinked in the brightness.

“Now this is more like it.” Guy laughed at me as I joined him. “Stage centre at last.” He grinned. He looked startled as Marcus and Rufus pulled him back and started to undress him. Satania took the microphone.

“Vat is your name?” She asked, towering over me. Her voice echoed around the still room, like haunted words in a crypt.

“Hazel.” I whispered to her.

“Hazel.” She spoke into the microphone, putting her other arm around my shoulders. “Vat a lovely name.” There was a ripple of applause from the audience. “Now Hazel, tell us why ve must castrate your husband?” She handed me the microphone and I cleared my throat, my eyes narrowing against the brilliance of the lights.

“He… er, well, he’s an emotional bully.” I said. True. “And um, unfaithful.” I was pretty sure. “He is violent at times.” Well, a few times anyway, when he was pissed. I was getting into the game and beginning to enjoy it, gaining confidence. Pity it was only a game, I thought for a fleeting moment before correcting myself. “He dominates me and it’s about time the tables were reversed.” I finally cried out, and the audience erupted into a cacophony of applause and whistles.

Satania laughed out loud and took the microphone. “Boys”, she called to the back of the stage. “Prepare him!” Guy was hustled off stage into the stygian blackness beyond.

“This is an act, isn’t it?” I muttered querulously,

Satania gave a smile, her cold eyes contradicting her lips. “Life, is an act. Vasn’t it your great Shakespeare who said zat? Ve are all actors on a stage, my darlink Hazel.” Her hand caressed my face, cupped my chin and pulled my face upwards so our lips met for what seemed an age. A groundswell of approval rose from the audience. My stomach contracted and my heartbeat quickened. A cloak of Eau De Lilliane perfume wrapped itself about me and I felt the firmness of her labia pressed against me. In the background was a low murmur of music, reminiscent of Gregorian chant. Then she broke away and addressed the audience in German, then French and finally English. But it was just words, and I barely took them in. Her lips brushed the microphone and I heard her announce that Guy was ready. She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me to gaze upon his reappearance. He was naked, his hands tied behind him and a thick plastic bit was between his teeth. His eyes were wide, but with exhilarated uncertainty rather than alarm.

Marcus and Rufus pushed him face down across a black velvet bench and forced his legs open. Each foot was strapped to a leg of the bench. A camera was placed appropriately, throwing a huge image of his genitals, onto a screen behind. His testicles were dangling, vulnerable, his penis taped up to his stomach.

Satania held up her hand and the noise faded like the ceasing of rain on a tin roof. “He is avaiting ze castratorix” Satania called, and signalled to the wings. Immediately a women stalked on, black hair piled high, a long white clinging dress, and a red diamante mask covering the top half of her face. Even so, the lines at the corners of her lips declared her middle aged, though in fairness her full figure would have complimented a twenty year old. In her hand was an odd long handled instrument that looked like a branch cutter but with a bulbous head on the end of each blade, rather than cutting edge.

The audience went quiet, and a drum began an almost imperceptible roll. Her lips were bared back to expose wolfish white teeth and her glazed eyes were fixed on Guy. She stood behind him and extended the tool out and closed the blades until his testicles were encompassed within the heads. Then she looked to the audience and lifted her chin. A slow clap began and several female voices cried out in their native language. “Geld the fucker!” Yelled a high pitched nasal American squawk. The woman in white inclined her head as to acquiesce. For the first time a hint of alarm appeared in Guy’s expression. His eyes began to widen as the woman squeezed shut the handles. He bucked, twisted and his teeth bared in a silent scream. Then the woman pulled back the instrument and with a shock of horror I could see that Guy’s testicles were gone. It was indeed a fantastic illusion and I realised that for the last sixty seconds I had been holding my breath. The woman held the instrument high in the air in a show of gloating delight. The spell was broken and the audience howled in delight.

“Zank you, Zank you zooo much.” The woman crowed to the auditorium.

“Velcome to your gelding.” Satania whispered to me. “Ve’ll take him backstage now to attend to him.”

“Attend to him?” My heart stopped.

“Oh yes, my lovely Hazel. He is now your castrato. Don’t worry, it wasn’t too painful, he was given some anaesthetic.”

“He said it was all an illusion!” I cried aghast.

“Zilly man.” She chuckled, “zat woman, she used a Cutazar on him. It is a new development from a state in India. Zey use it for public castration of sex offenders. The victim’s family are allowed to view. It snips off zeir balls and cauterizes the severance. All very unofficial, but a very cost effective solution so, the authorities turn a blind eye. Of course, it is only a temporary arrangement, a surgeon tidies up afterwards.”

I swallowed as she took my hand, and spread her arms to take a bow to the raucous audience. Then she led me to the rear of the stage, through the curtain, down a dimly lit luxuriant corridor and into a spacious warm opulent rear room. It contained little other than a large wine coloured quilted bed with a carved dark oak headboard, stark against an eggshell wall. My feet sank into a quicksand of thick cream carpet. I breathed in the tang of fresh citrus, and my stomach tightened with unfamiliar apprehension.

“You are not to be concerned my sveet, your husband vill receive ze best of medical attention and in addition, for ze next veek Physiatrists vill attend him. By the time he is back vith you he’ll be delighted vis his new neutered state. He’ll beg you to forgive him and allow him to serve you.”

“A week?” I was appalled.

“Don’t vorry my beautiful Hazel, for zat week I vill teach you zings that vill shake the foundation of your existence. Games zat vill move you to, how do you say? Ecstasy.”

“I, I’m not gay!” I answered tartly.

“All vomen are gay.” Satania admonished softly. “You just are not avare yet.” She eased down the front of my dress until my breasts were exposed, cupped one and gently tongued the nipple. I felt the moistness of arousal.

She smiled the smile of supreme satisfaction. “Your close friend Safron, has been vishing to get into your knickers for years.” She said.

“Safron? How, how do you know about her?”

“Our research is meticulous my sveet. You don’t zink it vas chance zat brought you are here tonight?” She chuckled softly. “You vere selected veeks ago. Your drinks vere, how shall I say, mixed to ensure you enjoyed minimal inhibitions.”

“You spiked our drinks? But, why? I don’t understand?” I cried, “What do you gain out of this?”

“Money, simply money.” Her laugh tinkled like a mountain stream. “You vouldn’t believe how much zat woman paid to castrate your husband. His testicles vill be mounted as a paper veight and sit upon her office desk. Although it vill never be mentioned, every male visitor to her office vill be avare of what they are, and be varned zat zis is a voman not to be messed vith.” Adding as an afterthought. “And ze video income vill be massive.”

“Money?” I repeated distantly.

“You vill take Safron to your bed when you get back, and she vill be dumbfounded at your new skills. She vill become besotted with you.”

“Why would I want that?” I breathed, my heart thumping, as she started to ease my dress below my waist.

“Power.” She said. “You vill have more power zan you ever dreamed of. Guy’s emasculation vill deplete his. He vill be longing to attend you, even ven you are in bed viz ze succulent naked and voluptuous Safron.”

My dress and thin wispy black panties were gently lowered to the floor… and my training began.

End

For my husband, who is still my stallion…. For now.

J.