Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Serial Castrator ❯ One-Shot ( One-Shot )

In the quiet, dusty town of Redwood Junction, a young woman named Evelyn McDonald sailed into the local bar like a ghost ship into a moonlit cove. Her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, surveyed the room with an unsettling calm. She was dressed in a simple black dress that hung loosely around her slender frame, a stark contrast to the neon signs that flickered outside. Her movements were fluid, as if she danced through a silent ballet, and every man's gaze was drawn to her, like metal to a magnet.

The bar was a typical dive, sticky with the residue of a thousand forgotten whiskeys and the sweat of desperation. The air had cigarette smoke and the murmur of hushed conversations. Evelyn took a seat at the counter, her eyes never leaving the mirror behind the bar, watching the room's occupants as they watched her. She ordered a drink, something strong and clear, and waited. It wasn't long before a man, his name tag reading 'Jim', approached her. His smile was hopeful, his eyes bloodshot from too many nights of seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle.

"What brings you to our little slice of heaven?" he slurred, leaning in a little too close.

Evelyn took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, savoring the burn. "Just passing through," she replied, her voice a sweet, syrupy drawl that could charm the pants off a saint. "Looking for some company."

Jim's grin widened, revealing a set of teeth that had seen better days. "Well, you've come to the right place, darlin'. I can show you a good time."

Her smile never faltered as she slid a small vial across the sticky counter. "How about I show you a time you'll never forget?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper that was almost lost in the din of the bar.

The night grew darker, the shadows dancing in time with the flickering neon lights. Evelyn led Jim to a motel on the edge of town, a place where the neon lights never reached. The room was as anonymous as the town itself, the walls a tired, peeling yellow and the bedspread a sad, stained brown. She poured him another drink, this one laced with a clear liquid that smelled faintly of chemicals. Jim didn't notice, too lost in his own haze of loneliness and desire.

As the drug took hold, his eyes grew heavy and his body went limp. Evelyn's smile grew colder, and she began to work, her hands moving with a precision that belied the chaos that was about to unfold. She stripped him naked, his body trembling slightly as the cool air hit his skin. With a twisted sense of humor, she placed his wallet on the bedside table, the contents spilling out like a declaration of his worth - or lack thereof. Then, with an elastrator in hand, she approached the bed, ready to play her twisted game of cat and mouse.

But before she banded him, she first wanted to shave off all of his pubic hair. It was a ritual, a declaration of her dominance over him. She had a set of professional hair clippers in her bag, bought just for this purpose. She plugged them in, the low buzz filling the room with a sense of finality. Starting at the base of his cock, she shaved him clean, her strokes swift and sure.The act was methodical, almost clinical, and yet there was a perverse satisfaction that filled her as she watched his manhood shrink with each pass of the clippers.

Once the clippers had done their job, she applied a cooling shaving cream to his bare skin. The smell was faintly minty, a scent that usually signaled a morning routine of grooming and self-care, but here it was twisted into something sinister. With a straight razor in hand, she began to shave him smooth, her strokes careful and precise. She took her time, enjoying the way the hair fell away to reveal his pink, vulnerable flesh. Her eyes never left his face, watching the mix of fear and confusion that played out across his features as he struggled to understand what was happening to him.

While she shaved him, she stroked his cock to keep it hard, a cruel mockery of the intimacy of the act. He whimpered, his eyes pleading with her to stop, but she only laughed, her touch as cold and unforgiving as the steel blade against his skin. She knew that once she was done, he would be completely exposed, utterly at her mercy. The power was intoxicating, a rush that made her heart race and her pussy throb with anticipation.

Finally, when she was satisfied with her handiwork, she set the razor aside and picked up the elastrator. "Ready for the grand finale?" she cooed, her voice a sickly sweet promise of pain. She didn't wait for his answer, sliding the first band over his swollen balls. He jerked, trying to pull away, but the ropes held him fast. "It's going to be so beautiful," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she tightened the band. "Your final orgasm."

The rubber band was pulled taut, the small stretched green ring at the end of the tool belying its true sinister promise. With a swift, practiced motion, she let the band slip off the tool. Jim's eyes shot open, a silent scream caught in his throat as the pain hit him like a freight train. She ignored his desperate whimpers, feeding his testicles through the ring one by one, ensuring that each was secured and trapped. The elastrator released with a sharp snap, and his eyes watered as the first band dug into his flesh.

Her eyes gleamed with a sadistic delight as she repeated the process, wrapping his balls in a cocoon of pain. Each snap of the elastrator echoed through the room, a twisted soundtrack to their macabre dance. She applied the bands meticulously, making sure that the skin between each was taut but not yet breaking. The sight of him, naked and bound, brought a thrill that she hadn't felt in since her last victim. It was a power trip, and she was riding high.

"I'm going to fuck you now," she cooed, her voice a siren's call that sent shivers down his spine. "One last time before I take what you hold so dear." Despite the horror of the situation, his body betrayed him, responding to her words with a pulsing erection that stood proudly against his thigh. The irony was not lost on her as she straddled him, her dress riding up to reveal a pair of black, lace panties that matched the darkness in her soul.

With a wicked smirk, she slid the panties down her legs, the fabric whispering against her skin like a lover's touch. She balled them up and shoved them into his mouth, his muffled protests barely audible. The scent of her arousal filled the room, mixing with the bitter tang of fear and the rubber bite of the elastrator bands.

Guiding his rigid member into her, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction as she took him raw. This was the ultimate power play, stripping him of his manhood in more ways than one. His eyes searched hers, pleading for mercy, but she just giggled and began to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate. Each thrust was a tease, a promise of release that she had no intention of keeping. His desperation grew with every stroke, his body straining against the bonds that held him captive.

The elastic bands around his balls dug deeper with every grind of her hips, a silent reminder of what was to come. She leaned down, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered sweet nothings of pain and pleasure. "Feel that?" she cooed, "That's what you're going to miss, the warm embrace of a cunt, the sweetness of a woman's love." Her words were a twisted serenade, each one a nail in his coffin of hope.

Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as she watched his face contort with a mix of agony and ecstasy. The drug had him in a haze, his mind torn between the pain and the illusion of pleasure she offered. His eyes rolled back, and she knew he was close, his body begging for release even as it knew it was hurtling towards oblivion.

With a cruel laugh, she reached between them and gave his balls a gentle squeeze. "Careful, darling," she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. "You wouldn't want to finish too soon, would you?" The bands dug in deeper, and he whimpered, his hips bucking involuntarily. The head of his cock was slick with their combined juices, and she reveled in the raw sensation of skin on skin. It was a powerful feeling, one that she had grown to crave with every encounter.

The room grew hazy with the scent of sex and sweat, the air thick with the electric tension that only comes from the most twisted of unions. Her movements grew more frantic, her hips slamming into his as she chased her own climax. She knew the moment it hit her, a wave of pleasure that crashed through her body like a tidal wave. She threw her head back, her hair a wild mess around her face as she let out a guttural moan that seemed to shake the very walls of the motel room.

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head, his body arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through him. His cock pulsed within her, filling her with a warmth that was almost comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness that had taken over her soul. His legs thrashed, his body fighting the bonds that held him in place.

She felt a twisted sense of triumph as she watched him squirm, his body betraying him even as he understood the price he was about to pay. He was no better than a filthy animal, only caring about his orgasm and instinctually spreading his seed no matter the consequences just as every man she’d previously been with.

Dismounting his cock, Evelyn's own need for power took over as she bent down, her mouth watering with the taste of victory. She began sucking his oversensitive cock, cleaning him of their shared releases. The sensation for him was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that she knew was driving him insane. Each time his cock jerked in her mouth, she felt a thrill of power, a reminder of the control she held over him. She didn't care if he enjoyed it or not; his pleasure was irrelevant, a mere side effect of her own twisted desires.

Jim's moans grew more frantic, his body unable to process the intense emotions coursing through him. As she worked his shaft with her mouth, her hands dancing over the tightened bands, she noticed his eyes widen with horror and realization. He was still hard, trapped in a cycle of pain and pleasure that she had meticulously crafted.

Without warning, his body stiffened, and a second orgasm ripped through him. The ropes creaked as he bucked, his hips jerking upwards to meet her mouth, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as if trying to block out the reality of his situation. His release spurted into her mouth, hot and bitter, and she swallowed it down greedily, the taste of his fear and submission only adding to her excitement.

When his body finally went limp, she sat back on her heels, a self-satisfied smile playing on her lips. She wiped the last of her saliva from his cock, her eyes never leaving his face. He was sobbing now, the realization of his fate setting in. "It's almost over," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress that belied the horror of her intentions.

Reaching once more for the strait razor, she brought it up and aligned it between the lowest two bands binding his ball sack. The blade glinted in the harsh, artificial light of the motel room, a silent promise of pain. She could see the terror in his eyes, the desperate hope that she was bluffing. But she wasn't. This was what she lived for, the moment when she had complete and utter control over another person's fate.

Her hand steady and her gaze cold, she made the first shallow cut. A thin line of blood appeared, and she watched with rapt attention as it beaded and then began to trickle down his thigh. He screamed into the fabric of her panties, his body jerking against the ropes that held him fast. The sound was music to her ears, a symphony of suffering that she had composed just for him.

With each subsequent cut, she took her time, savoring the moment. The blade was sharp, slicing through the taut flesh with surprising ease. The bands held his testicles in a vice-like grip, making her job simpler. She reveled in the control, the power she had over this pathetic creature. His desperate struggles only served to make her wetter, her clit swollen and begging for attention.

The blood flowed sluggishly, a mere trickle against his pale skin, the elastic bands acting as a tourniquet to prevent a geyser of crimson. It slowly dripped down his thighs, staining the once-white sheets a deep red. It was a gruesome sight, almost beautiful in its macabre simplicity. The smell of coppery iron filled the air, mingling with the scent of sex and sweat.

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head, his screams muffled by the panties stuffed in his mouth. It was almost as if he were being reborn into a new kind of existence, one where his manhood had been taken from him, leaving him an empty shell of what he once was. His body shuddered with every snip of the razor, his soul being torn apart along with his flesh.

Evelyn's eyes gleamed with excitement as she made the final cut. The blade bit deep, and the sound of it slicing through his last piece of flesh was almost orgasmic to her. With a flourish, she held his severed balls aloft, watching as a few drops of blood oozed out, thick and crimson. She took a moment to appreciate the weight of them in her hand, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment.

She felt a strange kinship with him in this moment, a shared experience of loss that bound them together in the most twisted of ways. She had taken something from him, something that could never be given back. His manhood, his pride, his very essence - it was all hers now, and she reveled in the power of it. It was almost poetic, a kind of twisted justice that she served to these men who thought they could just take what they wanted without consequence.

Setting his severed ball sack on his chest, she quickly began tending to his wound, ensuring there wasn't any residual bleeding. Her movements were efficient and precise, a stark contrast to the brutal act she had just performed. She had done this before, many times, and knew exactly what she needed to do to keep him alive - for now. The bands had done their job, the blood flow slow and manageable.

Jim's eyes remained glued to the gruesome trophy on his chest, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just transpired as his balls grew cold. His breaths were shallow and rapid, his chest rising and falling like a fish out of water.

With her tasks completed, she returned to the bed, her eyes lingering on the man who had thought he had found a temporary escape from his lonely life. He was still breathing, his eyes glazed over with shock and pain. She picked up his testicles, the weight of them in her hand a grim reminder of his lost manhood. "These look cold," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth as she handled his dead sack. The words were almost a question, but there was no mistaking the possession in her tone. "Since you don't need them anymore, you don't mind if I take them and keep them warm for you, do you?"

He made a muffled sound of protest, his body thrashing against the ropes as he realized the full extent of her twisted intentions. His eyes were wild with fear and pain, begging her to stop, to spare him this final humiliation. But she was beyond caring. She was in the throes of her own dark ecstasy, her eyes glinting with a sick pleasure that only the truly deranged could understand.

"Thought you didn't," she ignored his protest. With a sadistic smile, she positioned his severed testicles at the entrance of her pussy, the warmth of her desire for more power seeping through her. She paused for a moment, savoring the look of horror on his face before she began to push them in. She moaned as she forced them into her, the stretch of her muscles around the cold, lifeless flesh bringing a new kind of pleasure to her. The sensation was foreign, yet thrilling, a morbid trophy that filled her with a deep, primal satisfaction.

Once she had them nestled inside, she removed her used panties out of his mouth and sensually kissed him goodby. "Thanks for the wonderful time, stud," she purred, her voice thick with mock sweetness. "I hope it was as life-changing for you as it was for me." Before he could utter another sound, she slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth, silencing his protests. The sticky tape muffled his cries, leaving only the frantic sound of his breathing to echo in the room.

She took a moment to admire the tableau she had created - the man's body bound and bloodied, her own naked form a stark contrast to the horror she had wrought. The room was bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the neon sign outside that cast a flickering glow through the crack in the curtains.

With a final, sadistic smile, Evelyn turned off the light and made her way to the door. "Housekeeping will find him in the morning," her voice a dark echo in the room. The thought of his impotent rage and humiliation as he was discovered brought a wicked thrill to her. It was a parting gift, something he wouldn't be able to hide even if he wanted to. A memory that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

With that, the door was closed and she was gone…

The End