Castrating my Shemale Wife (nonviolent, mdom, transformation)

Hey everyone. New here (well sort of I've Lurked on and off for years) and this is my first attempt at writing down my dirty thoughts in story form since about 10 years ago in highschool when... nevermind. Anyways I'm new at this so I'd love constructive criticism... and a fried chicken sandwich.

Let me be clear on this there is no blood, surgery, or anything more violent than spanking in this story. I'll save that kind of thing for Gurochan.

First let me say this story takes place in a fictional world which somehow possesses both futuristic technology and feudalism.

Anyways this is an unusual little story about a man who makes his Female wife into shemale through some undescribed surgery, and then a few years later has her castrated (also not actually shown) and made into a lowly servant when he loses interest in her in favor of a younger prettier girl. In a way it's basically a reversal of just about every hetrosexual castration story I've ever read which makes it amusing to me and hopefully to you.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

As I was sitting by the fire enjoying a fine cigar and thinking to myself how nice it was to be enjoying a rare moment of tranquility, said tranquility was abruptly shattered by a certain entitled and irritating <i>Noise</i> coming from across the room.

"No you stupid twat! Do you have a tram to catch? Am I keeping you? Lick! Slower!"

"Yes mistress. Please forgive me mistress." Came the timid response.

The Noise was laying across one of my loveseats dressed ever so conservatively in jewelry, jewelry, jewelry, and as is so often the case; my wife's head. There are times when I wonder if the Noise can ever be bothered to sit or lay down without the need to shove my wife's head between her long smooth legs to nurse her tight hairless cunt. So noisy, so bitchy, so entitled, and yet it is ME they name "The Upstart" behind my back!

Perhaps I should order her to reciprocate, if for no other reason to give her something useful and above all <i>quiet</i> to do with her mouth. Well... no I suppose that would defeat the entire purpose of her being in my household and perhaps her entire purpose of existence.

And what good would it do anyway if she did fellatio poor Sarah's sweet, succulent, smooth... and let us not forget limp and useless Ladycock? I stare at Sarah in her maid's outfit, her soft 8 inches of ladycock and empty unsightly scrotum dangling from her miniskirt. Her face obscured by her long hair of silken onyx, kneeling over her mistress (or is she MY mistress... amusing how that word can describe a person who is simultaneously her master and tormentor and just another of my extramarital sextoys). I cannot bring myself to allow her any pleasure at all, no matter how much I feel sorry for her. No matter how fond I grew of her in our brief farce of a marriage. I can not allow myself any pity, can not show any sentimentality.

She is a pivotal part of House Helton's punishment. An example of what awaits those who