Note: This femdom castration story is excerpted here and is for educational purpose only and for people who would like to study the psychology of forced female domination. 

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Analysis of the Psychological Stimulation and Effects of a Femdom Castration Story on Submissive Males

GRADUATION DAY AT THE SCHOOL FOR FEMDOMS
(Excerpt)

From the author:

This is the first story of this kind I've written but I've enjoyed doing it and may do more. There will be no charge for these as I am happy to share with like-minded people.
I live on the east coast of Australia, not far from the Pacific Ocean.
As for favorite scenarios, while the story is of course fantasy, it contains an element of truth in that I would enjoy exploring the outer fringes of my sexuality. I like the idea of being used as a kind of sex toy by a dominant woman.
I would be interested if any women find the story interesting but anyone who enjoys the story is welcome to contact me.
Email me at evansthebook@hotmail.com.

I watched intently from the wings of the stage, marvelling at the thrust forward hips of the slave. Shackled spread-eagled at wrists and ankles, he had thrust against the chains, curling his hips toward Miriam as she pulled his testicles down to the bottom of his scrotum. The bolt upright erection that was vibrating against his belly told me of his intense desire, and why he was the perfect subject for Miriam’s demonstration of submission techniques.

* * * * * * * *

It was almost two years ago that my teaching career began at the Academy, a very private and ultra exclusive school sponsored by a group of wealthy and domineering women. It was a place where a mistress could send a daughter for a special education consisting of both academic achievement and also the skills necessary to continue the forward march of domineering women. I was privileged to be teaching a graduating class of five young mistresses.

The final year of school at the academy is focused primarily on academic achievement, but there is much emphasis placed on other studies as well. This is where my class in advanced submission techniques, or more commonly referred to as AST around the campus, fits into the picture of a young mistress’s well-rounded education.

I’ve known of some of these girls since before their arrival at the academy, and their slaves as well. Three of the graduating class were accompanied daily by slaves I had personally trained for their mothers. The slaves were presented to the young mistresses as rites of passage into womanhood. Of course given the exploratory nature of a young woman in the throes of puberty, all the young women were encouraged to observe the castration of their slaves at the presentation ceremony. Sexual curiosity was of course very natural for a young mistress, but the benefits of a castrated slave were just one less worry for a harried mother.

I always encouraged the young mistress to actually crush or sever her slave’s testicular cords during the ceremony. There is no bond stronger in a slave than the one between him and the woman who takes his manhood, and I wanted his new mistress to be the one to complete the emasculation. All of the young women took to the task with relish, but some were far more enthusiastic than others. Mistress Miriam was a young woman who truly savored the moment she squeezed the handles of the emasculator to crush and sever a slave’s testicular cords. I remember so well the look of wonder in her eyes, and of course the blush of intense desire. Mistress Miriam was now my top pupil.

Over the past few weeks, my class and I had been over-viewing the entire semester, and preparing for the graduation ceremony. The graduations at the academy were not unlike those of other educational institutions. Caps and gowns were required dress, and formal presentations of certificates and special merits were handed out as proud and anxious mothers looked on. The shortage of males in the attending audience was understandable, since almost all of the young mistresses would not even recognize their true fathers. The majority of young mistresses had been conceived by unions their mothers had with lovers, and usually as their ‘fathers’ were forced to watch as part of their subordinate humiliation. Others were the product of anonymous sperm collected during the enforced milking of particularly worthy slaves. The vast majority of males present during any academy ceremonies or socials were simply eunuchs who were there only to serve.

The one truly remarkable event that took place at the graduation ceremonies was the demonstration put on by the graduating class. All the young mistresses displayed the special skills they had developed over the past year in my class, and it was by far the most popular item on the agenda. An auditorium filled with dominant mothers and budding mistresses can become quite lively as the demonstrations of advanced submission techniques take place, and the agonized cries of participating slaves are often drowned out by the gallery cheers and salutations.

Despite all the preparation, I was still nervous as the first mistress prepared for her demonstration. Mistress Judy was the youngest and smallest of the five in my graduating class. Her size was no detriment to her abilities with a whip, and she was chosen to perform this demonstration because of those abilities.

I had specifically choreographed the demonstrations to progress in intensity, and also I had chosen each girl for a specific activity in which she seemed to excel. The girls had varied preferences and skill levels when it came to AST guidelines, and it had worked out perfectly for our planned demonstration.

A round of applause echoed across the auditorium as the stage curtain opened to reveal a male slave tied to the large wooden St. Andrews cross that dominated the stage. The cross was positioned at a slight angle to the crowd of onlookers, and the slave’s back and broad shoulders faced the audience. The claps and cheers intensified as the small slight young woman stepped onto the stage, smiling and acknowledging the crowd with a wave as she walked toward the slave. She was dressed in an immaculate white leather bustier, and skin tight black leather pants that accentuated her slim build and perfect ass. The thick-soled leather boots gave her a certain edge in overcoming her delicate features. I knew there was nothing delicate about mistress Judy, and the long black snake trailing behind and snaking across the floor as she flicked her wrist would prove me right.

Stopping at the perfect distance, she worked the whip, allowing it to unfurl full travel and jerking at the precise moment. The crack of leather in the air just to the side of the slave resounded like a rifle-shot across the auditorium, and was met with another round of cheers. The crowd was ready for a severe flogging.

Unbeknownst to most in the audience, the whip that mistress Judy was wielding was custom made by one of the slaves. It consisted of a very special leather, carefully tanned, shaped, and braided into sixteen feet of pure fury. The thin and tightly woven tip was interlaced with very thin rawhide. This was a whip meant to flay hide and flesh from bone.

The crowd was quiet in anticipation as mistress Judy readied the whip, the black leather writhing across the floor as she took aim.

Were it not for restraints, the slave would have cleared the floor trying to escape the first raking lash. Blood oozed from the open gash across his right shoulder. The crowd continued to cheer as Judy lashed again and again in rapid succession; opening cuts from shoulders to ankle. The slave screamed and struggled, but the relentless crack of leather against flesh never ebbed. I saw him trying to hunch and protect his slightly exposed testicles as Judy worked the lash across his buttocks and between his thighs, aiming for the slight rounded bulge of scrotum that was just visible. He unfortunately passed out before she scored her target, and thus her demonstration ended, much to the disappointment of the audience. The slave was taken down to have his wounds tended. All of us had hoped that Judy’s whip would find its mark on the slave’s scrotum, opening it up or taking it right off but it was not to be.

The bloody flogging had certainly whetted the appetite for more and the crowd cheered again as mistress Anne took to the stage.

Mistress Anne is one of the larger girls in my class, physically speaking. Her figure is a profusion of curves, and she is very well muscled. Her thighs and calves are well defined with powerful muscles honed on the soccer field. I had seen her send a soccer ball from one end of the field to the other with a single powerful kick and I knew what damage she would be able to do to the soft testicles of a male slave.

Her physical strength is well displayed in the simple bra and thong panty ensemble she has chosen to wear, and the crowd cheers as a fresh slave is brought to the cross and restrained by two assistant eunuchs. There are ties to his wrists and ankles and, on this occasion his thighs are firmly strapped in place. The managers of the event intend to ensure that the crowd will be satisfied this time. There will be no wriggling to one side as Anne’s boots are driven into the slave’s tender groin.

The cheering intensifies as Anne begins warming up exercises, flexing her legs and displaying the heavy leather boots that betray her chosen field of expertise. The crowd cheers wildly for the ball-busting they are about to witness.

Approaching the cross slowly, Anne leans to speak gently to the slave before suddenly bringing her knee hard up into his groin. He’s vibrating in severe pain as she backs off to judge her distance. Suddenly taking three quick steps, Anne delivers a full leg extension kick. The hard contact of leather to the sensitive flesh of the slave’s groin is audible, and the slave bucks and thrashes as he’s consumed in the intense pain surging from his testicles. His grunted pleas bring an approving smile from Anne but they serve only to intensify her appetite for the thrashing she is about to deliver.

The crowd claps their approval as Anne again steps off her distance. I can clearly see the slave struggling to regain control, and his scrotum is rapidly reddening from the prior assaults. I’m still looking at his scrotum as Anne delivers another ferocious kick.

The metal shackles are biting into the flesh of his wrists as he lunges forward at the kick, and I could see the convulsive ripples in his lower torso as he reacts to the waves of crippling pain and nausea.

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