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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Peter File.06 - Betting the Ranch
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PeterFile#06: BETTING THE RANCH


	(Editor's Note: The male's primal fear of castration is
	well known in the psychology literature. However, in
	our work with habitual masturbators we frequently find
	a counter emotional affect: an actual fascination with
	the prospect of castration by the hands of a woman,
	that can be compared only to the attraction of a moth
	to the flame. At the Institute we are investigating
	this phenomenon under controlled condition by placing
	randomly selected males under realistic threat of
	castration by our nurses and monitoring their sexual response.
	We find that sexual arousal occurs in a surprisingly high
	percentage of the habitual masturbators. We are exploring the
	possible therapeutic applications of this effect.

	In the chapter below we can see the phenomenon arising
	spontaneously during a harmless practical joke played on
	Peter by a young friend.

		-- Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist.)


	One summer while a teenager, Peter visited relatives who
owned a small ranch in the hill country. The attraction of the
place for him was not the pleasant green hills and sparkling
natural springs, but rather his distant cousin Judy, a buxom
country lass about his own age. At a brief meeting several
months earlier, the sexually precocious girl had given the
inexperienced youth his first lessons in making out, in the back
seat of a Chevrolet at a drive in movie. Obsessed by the memory
of his adolescent seed spilling in her hands as her fingers
slowly teased his virgin genitals, Peter eagerly anticipated the
visit.

	The day after his arrival, Judy offered to show him
around the ranch, which was devoted to the breeding of cattle.
After pointing out the stock pens and some of the prize breeding
bulls, she led him into a small, clean building filled with
equipment unfamiliar to the city reared teenager. "This here's
our breedin' barn. This is where we inseminate the cows to get
them with calves. Also," with a sly smile, "where we milk the
bulls."

	This last remark confused Peter. "Milk the bulls -- I
don't understand."

	"I don't mean the drinkin' kind. Where do you think we
get all the sperm for the cows?" She giggled, "Remember what I
did to you at the drive in?"

	Peter blushed in understanding. "Oh."

	Judy walked over to a stall, beside which a large
stainless steel machine stood. "This here's the extractor. We
lead the bull into this stall and strap him down good so he
can't kick up a fuss. Then we stick this hose on his pizzle and
let it suck away on him till he creams." She held up a clear
plastic tube attached to the machine.

	Peter stared in fascination. "You mean it makes him...
ejaculate... just like..."

	"Yep, it milks away at their pricks until they shoot a
load, just like jacking off. I get a kick out of watchin' them.
They don't know what's happening, but they sure know it feels
good!"

	"Gee, do you do that to all the bulls?"

	"Well, all the breedin' bulls. 'Course the ones we don't
breed get castrated. We do that in this stall, too. Sometimes
Paw lets me work the castrator myself, and he says I'm real good
at it." Peter shuddered at the callous cruelty in her voice.

	But his eyes remained fixed on the extractor. Judy
played with the tube in her fingers, watching him out of the
corner of her eye. "The extractor don't work just for bulls, you
know."

	"What... what do you mean."

	"I came out here once and caught the hired man with his
pants off and his prick in the extractor tube. He liked it too,
'cause he gruntin' just like a bull. I went and told Maw what he
was doin', and she came out and ran him off with the cattle
prod, didn't even let him pull his pants back on." Peter's lips
were dry as he tried to imagine the scene. She paused for a
moment, and then asked, "What do you think it would feel like,
Peter, gettin' milked like that?"

	"I... I have no idea."

	She gave him a devilish grin. "Want to try it?"

	He gaped open-mouthed at her suggestion. "You mean...
me... in the...?"

	"Sure. I'll work the extractor on you, and you can see
how it feels. I know you like gettin' jerked off."

	"Well... yes, but..."

	"Then what's the difference? C'mon, pull your pants off
and let me give you a milkin'."

	If he were alone, Peter would have relished the chance
to try the novel stimulation. But he was reluctant to perform to
such a humiliating and bizarre sexual act in front of his adored
cousin.

	"Judy, I couldn't! Not with you..."

	"Oh, don't be such a chicken! Will you do it if I take
off something first?" With that she quickly unbuttoned her work
shirt and spread it open. Peter gaped as her enormous bosom was
bared before him. Rather than removing the shirt, she tied the
loose ends together beneath her breasts, lifting and framing
them for his view.

	"There. I showed you my tits, so you pull down your
pants. Go on now, do it." At the sight of her abundant
womanhood, Peter felt all resistance ebb from him. Almost in a
dream he obeyed, fearing loss of the heavenly vision if he
refused. Judy made him step out of his trousers and underwear
until he stood before her naked from the waist down. Aroused by
the experience, his penis jutted stiffly in front of him.

	She pointed at this manifestation and giggled. "See, you
really do want to, don't you? Come on, get down on all fours in
the stall, like a bull."

	Peter did as she asked, even allowing her to fasten the
restraints used for the animals. As he knelt on hands and knees,
she took two wide leather belts which hung by rope from the
ceiling and cinched them tightly around his chest and stomach,
forming a sling which supported his weight. She then attached
wrist and leg bindings which secured his limbs to the four
corners of the stall. He waited nervously, helplessly
immobilized, conscious of his naked organs dangling between his
parted thighs, completely at Judy's mercy.

	She gave his penis a flick with one finger and said
sarcastically, "You don't exactly have the equipment of a bull,
do you, little cousin? This here tube might be a bit large for
you. But that's OK, 'cause I've got a small-size one we use for
the cocker spaniels Maw breeds. It ought to be small enough even
for your little pizzle." She chuckled, obviously amused by the
humiliating comparison.

	She attached one end of the smaller tube to the
extractor and then prepared to slip the other end over Peter's
penis. But first she paused, thoughtfully studying his organs.
"You ever see an ol' heifer about to be milked, cousin? That's
just about what you look like, right now. She's got a big ol'
floppy udder full of milk," -- she hefted his male sacks in her
palm -- "and a long ol' teat hanging down between her legs," --
she ran a finger lightly down the sensitive underside of his
shaft. "You ought to hear her moo, when her sacks are real full
and she's just begging somebody to squeeze it." She tickled the
little tuck of skin just below the head of his member, driving
Peter nearly mad with excitement. "You want me to show you how a
country girl milks a cow, Peter, how we squeeze those teats in
our hands?"

	He cried in agonized frustration, "Please, Judy! Squeeze
me!"

	"Well, I don't know, little cousin, how bad do you need
milkin'? I don't hear you mooing. Tell me how much you need it."

	Peter bit his lip, trying to resist yielding to her
humiliating game. But the teasing finger continued to torment
his frenulum, and finally he surrendered all dignity, willing to
do anything for the promised caress. "...m...moo... Oh Judy,
milk me! Moo, MOO, MOOOO!" Laughing, she grasped his penis in
her hand and began squeezing it with a practiced motion. Peter
moaned with pleasure and continued to imitate the sounds of a
cow for her amusement.

	After a few moments, she tired of this game and returned
to the main objective. She slipped his penis into the extractor
tube and circled an elastic band around the neck of his scrotum,
fastening the tube securely in place. Then without any
announcement she switched on the machine. Peter felt and
indescribable sensation. It seemed as if the tube became a
living thing, a pulsing insatiable mouth, a creature thirsty for
his very essence, sucking hungrily at his organ even as a calf
might nurse urgently at his mother's teat.

	Judy left the machine to work on his genitals and, going
around to the other end of the stall, sat down cross-legged in
front of him. Her large bare bosom was almost level with his
eyes. He longed for his hands to be free to feel it's soft
massiveness. "Feels good, doesn't it, Peter?" she grinned.

	"Mmm...yes, Judy. It does..."

	She leaned forward, bringing her breast within inches of
his face. "I bet getting sucked like that makes you want to suck
on somethin', too. Don't it, little cousin?" Her breast was only
an inch from Peter's mouth, and the prominently erect nipple
jutted more that half the space to his lips.

	"Please, Judy, may I?" he begged. In answer she only
giggled, and leaned forward. He drew the rosy bud into his mouth
as eagerly as a famished infant and began sucking. Judy smiled
to observe that his nursing lips matched perfectly the rhythm of
the extractor on his organ.

	How long he could have remained thus before nature ended
his rapture in an ecstatic release, none can say. For Peter was
suddenly, without warning, doubly deprived as Judy quickly
pulled her breast from his mouth and shut off the extractor. He
groaned in disappointment.

	"Hold your horses, Peter, we aren't through yet. I got
something else to show you." She walked over to a wall rack and
took down an unfamiliar implement. "Know what this is?" She held
up an iron tool about two feet in length, looking like a cross
between a pair of fireplace tongs and a bolt cutter. She parted
the handles, and pliers-like clamps opened at the end.

	Peter shifted uncomfortably. "N...No Judy, I don't."
Something about the look of the implement and the wicked glint
in her eyes told him he didn't want to learn.

	"This here's what we use on the other bulls, the ones we
don't want for breedin'. It's called a bloodless castrator. See,
this clamp end goes around their sacks, just above the balls.
Then we give it a good PINCH!" She slammed the handles together,
and the clamps closed mercilessly around an imaginary victim.
Peter shuddered. "It's not so bad as it looks. It don't cut
their balls off, it just breaks something inside, so in a couple
of weeks their balls sort of wither away, and their sacks just
hang there loose and empty. And it can't hurt too much, because
sometimes they don't even know when I do it to them." She
giggled, "Especially if I'm milking them at the same time. I
like to do that, so they'll have one last time to remember what
it was like."

	Peter felt an ominous foreboding at the direction of
Judy's talk. "Uh... Judy... I really have enjoyed this
afternoon, and thanks for showing me the breeding barn, but I
think it's getting near supper time and we really ought to get
back to the house now..."

	"Naw, there ain't no hurry, we got plenty of time left
to show you how this gizmo works."

	She drew up a short stool behind him and sat down. "We
put the bulls in the stall and tie their legs apart, just like
you, Peter. That way we can get at their sacks easy." She
reached between his legs and began gently scratching his scrotum
with her fingernails. Peter sighed deeply in spite of his
growing anxiety. "We put the castrator right here, right around
the top of their sacks." She opened the handles and circled the
neck of Peter's scrotum with the pliers. The cold iron on his
tender manhood made him wince.

	"Please, Judy... I don't like this game very much. Can
we go back now?"

	She ignored him. Here voice changed, taking on a
strange, alarming note of obsession. "You know that hired man I
found out here? I didn't finish tellin' you about him. You see,
I didn't go tell Maw about him right away. I watched him for a
few minutes, first, while he was playin' in the extractor. Then
he turned around and saw me watchin' him, and the way he looked
at me sort of made me mad. He was just starin' at my tits, and
that reminded me of how he was always rubbin' up against me,
trying to get a feel of them. That polecat just kept starin' at
me and jerking off, and then he even said, 'Hey honey, take 'em
out and let me see 'em.'

	"Well that really made me mad, and I decided to teach
him a lesson he wouldn't forget. I told him I'd show him my tits
if he'd let me milk him just like a bull. Well that fool didn't
even suspect, and no time atall I had him strapped down, just
like you. I showed him my tits like I promised, and I set the
extractor to milkin' him. But just when he was starting to let
his milk down, I slipped the castrator on him like this and
PINCHED!"

	She squeezed the handles, very gently, but hard enough
to clamp Peter's helpless glands in a painful grip. "Ow! Oh
please, Judy, don't! Let me go..."

	She eased the pressure and removed the tool altogether,
and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. But then she reached down
and flicked on the extractor. A moment later Peter felt the
cruel metal again encircle his fragile masculinity and realized
his ordeal was not over.

	"It's time to finish your milkin', little cousin, and
I'm going to make it real special for you." She continued with a
demonic giggle, "I'm gonna fix you, like we do the bulls, like I
did that hired man."

	"No, please Judy, don't do it..." he begged.

	"C'mon, Peter, let me castrate you. I bet you'll like
it. That hired man knew what I was doin' to him, but he still
had the biggest cum I ever saw. I think knowing it was his last
made it really special for him. Let me do it to you."

	Although Peter was in a panic, realizing the peril he
was in from the half-crazed girl, he tried to sound calm. "No,
Judy, I don't want it to be my last, maybe sometime later, but
I'm not ready just yet." In spite of his terror, the he could
not help thrusting his hips in response to work of the extractor.

	Her voice became intimate, tender, almost loving.
"C'mon, Peter, do it for me. You really like me, don't you?"

	"...Yes, Judy... but..."

	"It'd be sort of like goin' steady, like giving me your
class ring, only better. This way, I'd know no matter what,
you'd never get some other girl friend and forget me."

	"...but..." Peter was full of confused emotion.
Notwithstanding the horror of what she proposed, some darker,
mysterious urge began to stir within him. He squirmed about in
his bonds, testing the unyielding grip of the tool on his
testicles. What would it feel like, the ecstatic release, the
moment of crushing force, the lifetime of chaste devotion to his
beautiful despoiler. A nameless urge welled within him, reaching
back through the millennia to a time when women ruled over men,
and it was a coveted privilege for a man to sacrifice his
masculinity to the high priestess of the Earth Mother. As the
extractor drew him inexorably toward spending, these feelings
warred within Peter. He moaned in his agony of confusion.

	"C'mon little cousin, let me do it to you, let me
castrate you. You really want me to, don't you?"

	As she spoke, Peter surrendered to the inevitability of
climax. The pulsing suction urged him over the brink, and he
began emptying his glands in gushing surges. The strong
contractions of his penis were clearly visible to Judy even
through the plastic tube.

	"Now, Peter! While you're letting go-- can I do it?"

	In a delirium of sensation he moaned, "Please... Judy...
Please..." but he would never know for sure if he meant "Please
don't" - or - "Please do."

	Regardless of the youth's wishes of the moment, Judy
spared his manhood and laid aside the castrator. He long
remained slumped in the restraining straps, speechless with the
intensity of the experience, while Judy gently cradled his sacks
in her soft palm and patted his naked backside comfortingly. At
last when he was rested, she released him and helped him to his
feet.

	"Did you really think I was goin' to fix you, Peter? You
sure creamed like you thought it was goin' to be your last.
C'mon, now. Didn't that make it more exciting?"

	Peter had to admit that it did. And though in the
following weeks Judy would thrill him with countless
masturbatory treats-- in the breeding barn with the extractor,
in the hay loft with her knowing fingers, even once in the
divine valley between her breasts-- none would quite equal the
intensity of that first experience.

	As they walked back to the ranch house that evening,
Peter could not help asking her, "Judy, that time with the hired
man. Was that just a story, or did you really...?"

	She looked at him and smiled mysteriously for a moment.
Then she said, "Hey! I think I hear Maw's dinner bell. Race you
back!"


- end

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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