ReadRoom5

Reading Room # 5

Phillip's Special Party

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	Phillip’s Special Party Hi, my name is Kayla and I want to tell you about something that happened to me and my roommate, Deena, a few years ago. Well, it actually happened to her and not to me, but it got me so excited that I sort of felt like I was there too. I can honestly say I've never been quite the same since, and neither has Deena. It happened back in 1995 when Deena and I were roommates, working our way through college. We didn't have scholarships and money was always tight. We really had to pinch pennies to make ends meet in those days. Deena worked part time as an exotic dancer in some of the bars and topless clubs around town. That paid more than just about any other job a girl could pick up. Deena tried to teach me to dance. I even went with her on a couple of gigs, but I just didn't have the moves she had. My regular part time job was waiting tables at a restaurant; a country steakhouse called the Texas Stud. They had a live band on weekends, and on weekend nights I could sometimes make over a hundred dollars a night in tips, but the rest of the week the tip money sucked. The Stud closed at eight o'clock on Sunday and I got back to the apartment about eight-thirty. I planned to study for a computer science test that was coming up the next day, then I would try to get into bed by eleven. Deena had a gig that night and that had me a little worried. A city ordinance required all the bars and dance clubs to close on Sundays. Restaurants couldn't serve alcohol and that's why the Stud closed at eight. Deena was working a private party and that made me feel a little uneasy. You never know what kind of situation you could get into at one of those things. Well, Deena was braver than I, anyway. Deena's gig was at a little place called Jo-Jo's down in the older section of town; not a good place for a girl to be alone at night. I had been there a couple of times. Lots of people there with multiple piercings, really bizarre tattoos, wearing lots of leather and lots of black. It kind of gave me the willies. Like many establishments, Jo-Jo's rented out their bar and dining room for private parties on Sundays and off nights. It was one of these private groups that had hired Deena to dance that night. Eleven o'clock came and Deena still wasn't home. I was beginning to worry and couldn't sleep. I stayed up reading until about twelve-thirty when I heard Deena's footsteps on the porch and the sound of her putting her key in the lock. "Deena, are you alright?" I asked, flinging the door open before she had a chance to use her key. "Yeah, I'm okay," she said nervously. She was staring kind of blankly, like her mind was a million miles away, and her eyes looked liked she might have been crying. She was shaking a little, as though she were cold. "Kayla, you're not going to believe what happened," she stammered, "but I've got to tell you, Kayla. I've got to tell you!" It was like she was in a daze. She started taking off her dress right there in the living room and I quickly slammed the door and locked the dead bolt. "Deena, what's wrong?" I asked, as I pulled down the blinds over the front window. By this time she had slipped out of her dress. She was wearing a pair of little yellow bikini panties and a matching bra. When she turned around to face me I could see her panties were all gooey in the crotch and she was holding herself there. The stuff was creamy and thick, like semen - then my heart came up in my throat. "Deena, you've been raped! Who did this to you? I'm calling the police!" "No, no," she protested. "Don't call the police. I haven't been raped. I've had sex, but I haven't been raped." Deena sat down on the sofa, still rubbing her dripping crotch. Some of the secretions were drooling onto the cushion and she was smiling. "Girl, you need to get in the bath and get cleaned up," I said. "Not yet," she giggled softly, continuing to knead her own crotch through her panties, "I want to feel it for a while longer, because... well, I guess I had better start from the beginning. "Kayla, do you still have any of that strawberry daiquiri mix? I think I need a drink." "Sure, girl," I replied, "and I think I'll just have one myself." I was relieved to see that Deena was okay and that she hadn't been traumatized by a bad sexual experience. I realized now that her unusual behavior was attributable to the fact that she was turned on. She seemed kind of vague and dreamy because she was still as hot as a firecracker! My previous concern and worry quickly gave way to curiosity as I handed her the strawberry daiquiri and sat back to listen to her story. _________________ Deena's Story: I arrived at Jo-Jo's at eight o'clock like I agreed on the phone. Some guy dressed in black leather let me in. There were about twenty or twenty-five people in the room. I saw four women and the rest were men. They were all dressed sort of like the guy who let me in the door - all wearing black and lots of leather. I didn't know what kind of group this was. It all looked exciting, but to be honest, I was a little scared. The leader, a guy called Delbert, came up and introduced himself. He was tall, wearing black leather pants and boots and a black leather vest with a black tank top underneath. He was muscled up like a body builder and had big tattoos all over his arms. He was a little bald in front, had a moustache and a very pointed goatee, and he was wearing dark glasses with little round lenses. He looked very sinister - a typical dom type, but he acted nice enough. Delbert introduced me to several of the others, including the four women. At first I felt more comfortable because I wasn't the only girl in the room -then it hit me. Something was wrong here! The gut feeling just went through me that these women weren't really "women." Oh, they looked and acted feminine enough, and they were actually quite attractive, but you know, you can just tell. These were guys that were cross dressed and it kind of gave me a queasy feeling in my stomach. Delbert excused himself to go make some final adjustments to the sound system and left me with one of the "ladies" they called Queen Ann. Queen Ann was apparently like the second in command or something. She continued showing me around and introduced me to the remaining guests. It felt a little creepy knowing that Queen Ann was really a "he", but I still wasn't one-hundred percent sure that Queen Ann was a man - there was still that little doubt. You know the feeling. Queen Ann's blonde hair had red and blue streaks in it and stuck out in tufts and spikes at odd angles, punk fashion. In addition to purple lipstick, thick makeup, and gaudy earrings she had a nose ring, lip ring. eyebrow ring, and a tongue fob. Her black dress was slit up the front so it just exposed the crotch of her leather panties. White legs, sheathed in black alligator hose, flashed with every step. In a way she looked sexy and seductive, yet she was just a little too butch. One of the other women was dressed similarly to Queen Ann, except her dress was split up the side rather than in front. The other two women both wore black leather mini dresses stretched over shapely thighs that were quite convincing. However, all the women’s costumes covered their upper torsos like turtlenecks, preventing anyone from scrutinizing their breasts. This kind of confirmed my suspicions about their gender. Finally, Queen Ann introduced me to Phillip, tonight's guest of honor. Phillip was dressed differently than the others. Instead of the black leather look, he was wearing a pair of silk pajamas with a soft, pastel floral print. Rather sexy-looking really - both Phil and the pajamas. I asked him if this was a bachelor party and he only smiled sheepishly and said, "sort of." Queen Ann laughed and said it was also like a graduation and a going away party. About that time Delbert returned to inform us the sound system was ready and he briefly reviewed the night's program. We had discussed the music I would be dancing to earlier, over the phone, when we set up the gig. I hate dancing where there's no live music; it always makes me feel a little cheesy. But at most small private parties that's what you have to live with. However, this group had state-of-the-art equipment that plugged right into Jo-Jo's sound system. It sounded great. It was only ten minutes until show time; Delbert offered me a drink and I accepted. When the music began, I climbed onto the runway and started my routine. Phillip was seated at the end of the runway with Delbert and Queen Ann on either side of him. The rest of the guests lined up along both sides of the runway. Phil had big innocent-looking brown eyes and he smiled as he stared intently at my every move. His expression was more one of appreciation than leering. His face was filled with pure enthusiasm. He kind of reminded me of a puppy dog. I could also hear little appreciative oooh's and aah's from the rest of the crowd, along with an occasional exclamation of delight. Still, this crowd was more subdued than a regular crowd on a business night. I've performed in clubs filled with oil field crews and construction workers and this was nothing compared to that! I felt a little less apprehensive now about being the only girl in the club. (And I know those four "women" were just drag queens in VERY good disguise and character.) As I danced, I tried to figure this crowd out. Were these guys all gay? If so, then why did they hire a girl to dance for them? If not, then where were the girls? Even if I was wrong about the "queens", four out of two-dozen isn't many girls have at a party. Nothing made sense. After three numbers we had a brief intermission and I went to the ladies' room to freshen up and change into my belly dancing costume. My next three numbers would be Middle Eastern dance routines. The crowd cheered and applauded when I emerged from the ladies' room wearing a dress made of beads. I took time for another drink before climbing back onto the runway. Everybody seemed to be having fun, especially Phil; he just went ga-ga over my hip-shaking moves in the belly dancing numbers. I quit worrying about whether the crowd was gay or straight; or whether the women were real or queens, and I just had fun and went with the flow. I kept thinking that Phil was really cute and I wouldn't mind giving him a private show - if you know what I mean. I had never done this with a customer though. It was just a fantasy. A dancer doesn't want to start doing that in real life because it can cause all kinds of unwanted complications for her business. It's best not to mix business with pleasure - not too much anyway. We had one last intermission before I performed my final number - the grand finale where I took everything off! I came out in a new costume; one specially made for striptease, that peeled of in layers. I climbed back onto the runway a began one of my most erotic and seductive routines. By this time the party goers had had a few more drinks and the tone became more boisterous and noisy. As I slithered through my moves peeling off pieces of my costume, letting them flitter to the floor, the crowd began to sound a little more like a room full of oil-field rough necks. This feedback was very satisfying, especially when I contemplated that most of the men in the room might be gay. I was even turning THEM on! There was a chrome pole at the end of the runway, right next to Phil. When I had peeled down to just my G-string I started really doing a number on that pole. You should have seen the expression on Phil’s face; he was slavering with desire and delight. Those big puppy-dog eyes of his just killed me. I realized I was getting the hots for him pretty badly and I started trying to figure out some discreet way of asking him what he was doing after the party. It would be so cool to have a guy like him, I thought. He seemed so different, so trusting, almost docile. I had never had a man like that. I felt if I could ever get him inside me I would literally own him! I couldn’t get that thought out of my head and I kept racking my brain trying to figure out some way to let him know that wouldn’t be too obvious. I peeled off my G-string, twirled it around my finger a few times, then flung it toward Phil. He caught it in his teeth and the crowd went wild! I strutted up and down the runway a couple of times in the nude and when the music stopped I slipped on a dress and bounded back down to the floor. The crowd was still applauding. Delbert came up and handed me three one-hundred dollar bills. For private parties I dance for a hundred dollars an hour with a two hour minimum. It was just past ten-thirty and I had run well into the third hour. This was damned good money, I thought. Then I got the surprise of my life. Delbert whipped out two more hundred dollar bills and asked me if I would have sex with Phil - up there on the runway - in front of everybody. I was so shocked I hesitated and stammered. "Oh, I’m sorry," I said. "I have a strict policy..." Then I hesitated. What the hell was I saying! I had just been trying to figure out how to get Phil into the sack and here was my chance to do it and get paid for it! Of course I had never done it for money before, and I had certainly never done it in front of an audience. I had never even done it with anyone watching. It was always just a twosome. This was not exactly what I had in mind. I just kind of stood there not knowing what to say. It was Queen Ann who broke the awkward silence. "Delbert, darling," she said, "this is such a momentous occasion, I feel we should make it worth the young lady’s while, don’t you think?" Queen Ann pulled out three more one-hundred dollar bills and sweetened the pot. "Deena, dear, this means so much to young Phil, there. You can’t begin to imagine how important this is for him. Please?" She sounded so sincere. Everyone was looking at me in anticipation; then I looked at Phil. He seemed to be pleading with those big brown puppy-dog eyes. "Okay," I said, "but let me go get changed." I told them that I wanted to incorporate the "trick" into dance on the runway. They said they liked that idea. I told Delbert what music I wanted and he programmed the CD carousel. Then I bounded back to the ladies’ room to freshen up and change. I dispensed with the preliminaries and climbed up on the runway wearing just my panties and bra. I pulled Phil up onto the runway and stripped off his pajamas while we were moving in time to the music. He was wearing a little pair of stretchy nylon bikini briefs that matched those floral pajamas. Phil’s skin was smooth and tanned. He wasn’t muscled up like Delbert, but he had good tone and I could tell he worked out regularly. I flung off my bra and rubbed my tits all over him and that really drove him wild; I could feel his firm young body go slightly limp with the weakness of desire. I pulled him over to the pole and placed him on one side and me on the other. I improvised a routine where we were dancing with the pole between us. It was so sexy; it was like we could be fucking except that the pole was in the way. This was really tearing him up; he wanted me so badly! I was afraid he was going to cum rubbing against the pole so I pulled him back out into middle of the runway. He would do anything I told him; I’ve never felt so much in control of another person in my life! His erection was really making a tent in those little briefs of his, so I knelt in front of him and slipped them off. I noticed with delight that his crotch had been shaved slick. In fact, he didn’t have any hair on his body except for the top of his head and his eyebrows. Even his armpits were shaved. I’ve had lots of fantasies about doing a man with a shaved crotch, but I didn’t know guys actually did it; it’s like they’re giving up their macho power or something. Phil had a nice member that appeared to be well over six inches and it really stood up. Two beautiful, healthy testicles hung in a tight sack, and I momentarily kneaded and fondled them. Phil emitted a gasp of pleasure that tapered off into a little submissive whimper. He placed his hands on my head to steady himself, tenderly caressing my hair as he did so. I pulled his cock head inside my mouth and gave it a good hard suck, letting my teeth lightly tickle the area just behind his glans, trying to be careful not to make him squirt prematurely. I felt a shudder go through him and his knees buckled. I feared for a moment that I had misjudged his stamina and that he was going to cum. It was a near miss! He was now so weak he could no longer stand and I guided his smooth body down against me so that we knelt facing each other. I stood up with my crotch hovering just above his head and looked down at him staring up at me with those big puppy-dog eyes, enraptured with longing and desire. I put my thumbs inside the waistband of my bikini and squatted over his face, rubbing my drooling crotch against his mouth and under his nose. It took no coaxing at all to get him to grip the crotch of my panties with his teeth and help me remove my panties. Gently placing a foot on his shoulder, I pushed him onto his back. Totally nude now, I stepped back and let him take in the view of the one who would soon, if ever so briefly, be his. Or, perhaps more correctly, I let him look at the one who would soon possess him totally! Placing a foot between his legs I poked his balls teasingly with my toe. He gasped and giggled a little, spread his legs slightly, and flailed about in mesmerized anticipation. When I reached down to retrieve my panties from his mouth he sucked on the crotch as though trying to savor every last drop of my honey dew. I just smiled and gave him a big wet kiss on the lips. He knew it wouldn’t be long now, and the thought had him out of his mind with desire. I played my fingers up and down his solid thighs and over his firm abdomen, finally pinching his nipples just enough to make him wiggle and gasp. All the while he was looking at me with those big, beautiful puppy-dog eyes, in trusting anticipation. I couldn’t believe I was getting paid for this! Finally, I sat astraddle of his legs and began massaging and kneading his hairless pubic mound and lightly pinching the base of his penis. Ever so slowly I worked his member up and down against my bush, gradually parting the hair, then letting the head slip in and out a few times, teasingly. At last, I engulfed the full length of his member, pressing my thick pubic bush firmly against denuded pubic mound. A sensation of power rushed through me. Phil seemed suddenly so incomplete, subdued, and helpless, while I felt so functional, so whole, and so much in control. There’s something about cutting off a man’s crotch hair that makes him helpless and submissive; I swear it’s more than just symbolism! I slowly worked up and down his member, thankful now that I had taken those PC muscle exercises seriously. With Phil on his back, this was a classic position. I milked and kneaded his member with my powerful PC muscles while I pulled his head up and let him suckle my breasts. Then I began deep kissing him, knowing now that it was only seconds until he would erupt with all his pent-up ecstasy. His big puppy-dog eyes were closed now, and he was tenderly returning my kisses. I could feel him holding back, as though he were trying to make this moment last forever. "It’s okay, Phil, baby," I whispered, softly. "You can give it to me; all that wonderful cum; you’ve been saving it just for me, remember." He opened his eyes now, almost pleading. There was a mixture of ecstasy and desperation in his expression like I had never seen before. I could tell he was holding back for all he was worth. I knew he couldn’t hold back much longer though, and I found his attempts rather amusing. "Come on, sweetie," I whispered. "Give it to me; it’s mine, remember; you can’t keep it. That’s it; just let it go." I could feel him losing it. He looked up at me almost like he was scared and he started going, "Ah, ah... ahh..." It was like he was about to fall off a twenty storey building. Finally he just couldn’t hold it anymore and he shrieked and screamed and clung to me like he was hanging on for dear life. I could feel his hot semen squirting deep inside me; throbbing spurt after throbbing spurt. As his orgasm finally tapered off, he started kissing me and his jaw was quivering. "Oh thank you, Deena," he blurted, in a broken whisper. "Thank you so much." I could see that he wanted to savor every last moment of our time together and I was in no hurry to get off him. I held him inside me until every last drop was spent and only let him slip out when he became flaccid. "You were great," I said, sincerely meaning it. He was looking up at me with that puppy-dog expression again. He seemed very happy, almost ecstatic, but tears were running down his face. I thought that was strange, but sex caused some strange reactions in people. I bent forward and kissed him on the lips again, then I tenderly kissed each tearing eye before getting up. The crowd applauded with polite applause, you know, kind of like you hear at golf tournaments. I realized now that the crowd had been deathly quiet until now. In those last few minutes it was like Phil and I were in a private room. I could see chagrin and sadness on Phil’s face as I pulled my bikini panties back up my legs and slipped back into my bra. Four of the leather men grabbed Phil firmly, and he made no effort to resist. One of the "girls" in a mini dress - they called her Janna - reached into her large handbag and pulled out something that looked like a giant pair of weird-looking pliers with four little prongs on the end. Janna placed a fat little rubber band on over the prongs, then squeezed the handles stretching it out. Without hesitation she deftly slipped it over Phil’s nut sack and snapped it off, close to his abdomen. Phil let out a little gasp, then looked back up at everybody and smiled with that sweet, puppy-dog expression - then everyone cheered. Phil’s nuts immediately turned a deep red, and quickly started turning blue. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing! "Couldn’t that cause permanent damage?" I asked, climbing down from the runway and slipping back into my dress and shoes. "Here," Delbert said, handing me another drink. "You look like you could use this." I thanked him and accepted it. Yes, I needed another drink! "And to answer your question, young lady, the band will indeed initiate a permanent change. That is the whole point, you see. Tonight is the night young Phillip becomes a eunuch. And you, my dear, Deena, have provided him with a most exquisite last time. Phil will remember you always as the last woman he was with - as a man. "Here is a small token of appreciation for a job well done." Delbert handed me another hundred dollar bill. "You mean Phil knew about this all along?" I was still kind of in shock. I know my questions must have sounded stupid, and I wondered if maybe I was asking too many questions. "Oh yes, dear," said Queen Ann. "Phillip has known it was his destiny to become a eunuch for some time now. Some are called and some are not, but if they are destined, sooner or later they know and accept it. One of the leather men they called Mike came up and handed me a small velvet bag. "Mistress Deena," he said, "we have taken up a little collection among the group in appreciation of a superb performance. You made Phil’s last time most memorable as well." I thanked him, finished my drink, and grabbed my bag to leave. "You are welcome to stay with us," said Delbert. "There’s plenty of liquid refreshments and snacks are being prepared in the kitchen." "Yeah," said Queen Ann, with a mischievous glint in her eye, "We’re all just going to hang around and watch Phil’s nuts die." This thing sort of gave me the creeps and I just wanted out of there. I told them it was getting late and that I had to go. They said that was okay; they understood. Before I left though, I went over to where Phil was seated and gave him one last kiss on the lips. He was dressed now only in a silk robe that matched the pajamas he was wearing previously. It was open in front and I could see his poor constricted, dying nuts. They were dark purple now, almost black. "You must be brave now, Phil," I said. I don’t know why I said that; it just seemed appropriate. Evidently, the others agreed. They smiled at me approvingly, as though they thought I was beginning to understand. "Thank you again, Deena," Phil said, weakly. "I will be brave, and I will remember you always." When I started for the door, Delbert had two big leather men escort me to my car so I wouldn’t get mugged. Driving home, I kept trying to sort this all out. It was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to me. Who were these people? What would have happened had I refused to have sex with Phil? Would they have castrated him anyway? Why couldn’t they get a woman from inside their group to do that? Were there even any women - real women - inside their own group? Was I wrong, after all, about the "queens"? And, oh... oh my god! What if the queens used to be guys like Phil! Was that Phil’s fate; to be feminized, cross dressed, and become a drag queen forever? It was then that I became aware of Phil’s semen oozing out into my crotch and my thoughts turned to those final, wonderful moments when he ejaculated inside me. I reached down and started rubbing myself, realizing that the creamy issue I was rubbing between my fingers was the last poor Phil would ever produce. It seemed so sad I actually started to cry, but I kept getting turned on thinking about it. I remembered occasionally having fantasies about doing it with a man the last time before he got castrated. In my fantasies though, the guy would always lose them in an accident or for medical reasons or something. In the past I would never have even dared tell a man that I ever had fantasies involving castration. I felt that was very perverted and if a man knew about it he would run like hell and never come back. The idea that a man would actually volunteer to become a eunuch seemed incredible - and sexy beyond belief! My mind was in a spin now with all these strange new thoughts and images. It was scary; it was creepy; it was wonderful! I found myself wishing I had stayed at the party. I needed so badly to know more! _________________ Finally, Deena went into the bath and started getting ready for bed. I was almost too worked up now to go to sleep, but we agreed to continue our discussion the next afternoon. Like Deena, I admitted that I occasionally had fantasies about having sex with men who were about to be castrated. I didn’t have these often and I didn’t think there was anything particularly abnormal about it. After all, people had all kinds of strange personal fantasies. It’s only when you became obsessed with one particular one that you had to worry. At least that’s what those little paperback self-help guides said. Actually, one of my favorite fantasies was that I lived with a eunuch and that he could give me massages and rubdowns, but couldn’t do anything sexually. He could love me with his hands, his tongue and his heart, but never with his sex. His affection for me would be true and pure, and never selfish. It would be kind of like having a human pet. That got Deena started thinking about how nice it would be to have a eunuch go with her on gigs to help her get into her sexy costumes, and she would always have an escort in the parking lot. Now there was a practical idea! This thing was gripping our imagination and infatuating us as nothing else ever had. Later that week we went back to Jo-Jo’s to see if we could learn more about that group that hired Deena. The guy in charge was a huge, burly guy, about six-seven, with a shaved head and a large earring in one ear. He looked like Mr. Clean. He said the club never gave out that kind of information and they kept their dealings with clients strictly confidential. Deena left her name and phone number and said to tell those people if they ever needed her to work another party like that one, she would be available and glad to do it. We never heard from them again though. A few months later we both graduated and moved to separate towns. I manage the computer and software department at an electronics store. Deena is the manager of a health spa where they also teach tumbling and modern dance. We stay in touch, of course, and get together whenever we can. Deena and I have been good friends for years, but now it’s like we share a special secret world and it’s formed an even closer bond between us. Our obsession with eunuchs has probably ruined out chances of being satisfied with a normal vanilla marriage though. That’s probably why we’ve both remained single. We talk about that quite a bit. Sure, we like regular sex with regular guys, but that’s something a girl gets when she goes out on the town looking for it. I really can’t see having one of those self-centered, macho studs at home, giving orders and planning my life. No, at home I want a eunuch (or two or three), my own personal pets who take their direction from me. It looked as though Deena and I would spend the rest of out lives dreaming about this wistful fantasy, forever depriving ourselves of even the paltry matrimonial pleasures offered by mainstream vanilla society, all because of this brief glimpse into another world, a bizarre, unlikely, underground world, that caused us to dream of an impossible paradise. We often wondered if there were other women out there like us, in whom once this fantasy was awakened and allowed to grow and mature, would be forever beguiled by its haunting spell. And we wondered how many men like Phil would be willing to sacrifice their manhood voluntarily for the vision and promise of a higher more rewarding sensuality. (Oh god, if I could only have met him - been there- witnessed it!) Was this all just decadent eroticism, or was it a vision of life as it should truly be lived? A few weeks ago, however, I received an email from Deena. She told me to check out this web site, the Eunuch Archive at BME. I clicked on the URL and couldn’t believe what I was seeing! There were lots of men literally begging to be castrated! Many shared our fantasy of becoming a docile eunuch pet for a beautiful woman after voluntarily submitting to castration. We knew this strange, wonderful world was out there somewhere, lurking just beneath the surface of mainstream vanilla society. Now we have found it! Deena and I have met others at the site and are forming a network. At last the eunuch and mistress subculture is becoming a reality! THE END Farrell Squire