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Amethyst's Christmas Tales

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His Demands

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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“No… No, this isn't what I want!"

Samson grunted and heaved, sweating profusely as he wrenched his body back and forth. Yet he wasn't very fit, had never needed to be, not in a world where the rich had everything, from flying cars to obedient slaves.

Well, no… No, not slaves. But they would do things for the people in the world that real people would baulk at, the androids. And she was the most beautiful model and specimen that he had gotten for himself, a tall, glorious lioness with brown hair cascading down her back – an anthro, of course. She was a head and shoulders taller than him with moderate muscling all over her body, wearing nothing more than a loincloth and band around her chest in a similar style.

Of course, Samson had chosen that for her. He had chosen all of her outfits, everything skimpy, designed to show off her body, her slender waist, the wider hips and the swing of her long, leonine tail with the brown tuft of fur at the end. Oh, she was beautiful, so very beautiful…

And yet Samson was about to learn that there was so much more to beauty than his deepest, darkest desires.

For she knew, of course. She had always known, tapping into his technology, using his resources so that she could better serve him.

The lioness with no name purred throatily as she loomed over him, having tied him to a pre-made chair that, once, had been a standard dining room chair. The wood for it had been expensive, custom made and then tossed in the basement when he'd tired of the design, but the lioness had made good use of it. Hollowing out the centre, she had tied him tightly to it in such a way that his fingers could not get at any of the knots to free himself (not that he would have been savvy enough, really, to do so) and his balls and soft shaft hung down through the sizeable gap in the middle of the seat. More than enough room for her to manoeuvre, her paw grasping him, rolling his soft, flexible dick between her fingers and letting her short, sharp claws rake over his nuts.

Samson squealed.

“Why cry when you want it so?" She purred, giving his cock a harder squeeze, not caring for when her claws nicked his nuts, earning her another yelp and heaving, rasping wheeze of breath. “You want this. I am just complying with your demands."

“Please…" Samson wheezed. “No… No…"

But it was his desire. There was a difference, to him, about having something done in fantasy, diving into the deepest, darkest portions of the internet to satisfy his need to fantasise about castration. But he had never meant for anyone to really think that he actually wanted his balls chopped off.

“I need… Need my nuts…"

“Just the balls?" She studied him curiously. “No, your recent searches showed an inclination for full castration, the results were conclusive. This is what my master desires."

“No…"

He wheezed, but the lioness only took a strip of duct tape, which had been left nearby, supposedly for that very purpose, and plastered it smoothly over his face.

So, no more complaints verbally for him, of course not. For that had been one of his fantasies, one of his darkest moments of lust, when he had fantasised about being taken into a dark room, strapped down, unable to move, fighting and struggling. Duct tape over his mouth, plastering him silent.

All so no one could hear his screams…

It had all been a fantasy, however, for Samson, twisting, struggling, a light above him, just a white light, a spotlight, framing him in all his vulnerable glory. His balls, in the fantasy, were in an emasculator and there was someone, he didn't know who, closing in on him, ready to clamp it shut and crush his tubes, castrating him and then chopping off his balls too, while the cords were severed.

A fantasy.

That was all it had been.

Yet she followed his demands, only his demands, even if they were not made verbally to her.

And Samson had already sealed his fate.

She handled his balls easily, clamping the emasculator around them, though it did not snap closed and severed the cords instantly, no. She stretched out the neck of his sack, making sure that it clamped around the narrowest point, Samson grunting in pain, balling up his hands into fists as he tipped forward.

No…

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But he could not beg, not even then, his cock plumping up slightly, if only very slightly, his arousal there, even if it was faint. It was there, in the back of his mind, his body and his twisted fantasies coming to the forefront of his mind, swelling and dominating everything else.

It had never been meant to stay in the back of his mind, Samson thought, somewhat desperately, grunting, groaning, trying to squirm free. Even then, he had to fight, the cold metal of the clamping emasculator holding tight around the neck of his sack, warming to his skin. Yet it tightened more and more and more, crushing, pinching, shattering nerves and blood vessels, biting into the skin.

“Nnngghhhh…"

Oh, a groan like that was never supposed to come from his lips, but his nuts would never again be whole, not as the emasculator crushed the tube that fed his cock with his seed. A knife flashed and the lioness leaned over him, letting him feel everything, the crushing, deep ache, the rise of nausea clawing at the pit of his stomach, snapping and snarling, dragging crudely at him.

“You're not that far into it yet," she said with a smile, turning his head to the side so that he could see the blade in her hand, the knife flashing. “It holds your cock up at just the right angle for me too. Everything is ready here for you, master, and I will carry out your fantasies just as you want."

Samson grunted and groaned, body all he could do was shake and sweat there, trapped by her bondage, locked down in position. There was nothing for him, his bare, weak human skin nothing against the lioness' might. Her claw would have cut him just as easily as the knife, but she dragged it out for him, just like in all those videos he'd watched and all the stories he'd read, all the fantasies in one way or another which had brought him right there, to that moment, with the cold metal blade of the knife slicing into his nuts.

It was a slow, biting drag, cutting into his nuts, severing them from his body. He had not gone numb, not at all, shuddering, flinching, heaving, gasping, screaming into the duct tape gag. It bit, pain lancing through him, the pour of hot, metallic blood clouding his senses. It trickled over his nuts, pouring down, but he heaved and grasped at any breath that he could, trying to strain through it, trying to survive.

It didn't help, not at all, not as the crushing force of the emasculator rendered him less than the man that he had been and the knife sliced through and through and through, spilling over with blood.

The loss. It was there, the sense of longing, arousal thrumming where it had no right to.

Could he make it through?

Samson, however, should have known that there was no way to survive it. His body might have thought it could, even as his nuts were neatly severed from his body, finally landed with a dull, soft, wet plop on the ground between his legs. They still felt like they were attached, the dull weight of the emasculator, somehow, taking the place of his nuts, letting him imagine that nothing was wrong, that they were there, that it was really just one of his fantasies playing out in his mind.

Perhaps a dream.

Yes… Samson could handle it, if it was a dream. Maybe that was the only way that he was going to get through the entire experience.

Only…he wasn't. For she ran the blade up to his shaft too as his breath raked and heaved, clawing at him, howling through his lungs. And yet, what, really was the difference if she stole just his nuts from his body or his dick too? It was not as if his life was ever going to be the same ever again, oh no, not as the blade pressed to his cock, slicing through.

Adrenaline pumped, but the lioness was careful, the blade cutting, the warm drip of blood pouring forth, trickling, dripping.

Drip… Drip… Drip…

He was not there in the moment, feeling the loss of his balls more and more, his mind catching up with the horror that his body was going through. Where his cock had been plumping up slightly before, twisted in pain and blistering fantasy, it was suddenly not there anymore, his head hanging as he slumped forward, the lioness leaving the emasculator still in place. She shoved him a flash of his limp, flaccid member, but it did not look like it was his cock anymore, like something entirely different, something that had never, ever, not ever, been a part of his body.

It was not him.

No…

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But it was not for him to decide, not anymore. He was trapped there, losing blood, but that wasn't going to matter, not anymore, not at all. It was out of his hands in hers as she ran her paws over him, red with his blood.

His cock was gone.

His balls were gone.

Completely castrated, no hope at all of returning to his former life.

And yet her paws ran up his body, creeping closer and closer to his neck. He knew what power lay in the mechanics under her fur and yet the lioness felt so soft and so tender in that moment that he couldn't help but lean into her. He groaned, slumping, fading, dizzy and spinning. Would it be better for him if he blacked out?

Maybe. But it wasn't Samson's choice, no…

Never.

“Such tender prey. You're better like this, in the paws of one better. My claws won't be gentle."

He could have picked those very words from his fantasies. Only, he hadn't. She had made them up all on her own, from all that he had looked at, all that he had absorbed from the dark reaches of the internet.

It was too late for him to take that back.

“Prey… Mine."

Her paws closed on his head, caressing, stroking, yet he knew without truly knowing that the end was near. There was nowhere for him to go, however, his mind shutting down, numbing him, adrenaline pumping. Freezing, he knew that there was nothing that he could do to fight back, merely leaning into it, allowing it to happen while numbness spread through him.

And that was just why it did not even hurt when his head was wrenched to the side: a quick, sharp snap.

And then Samson was no more.

The man's body fell limp in her paws, his head hanging off to the side awkwardly. Snapping a neck was always such a quick, easy endeavour for the lioness, though she had done it many times over already. She smiled, wiping her paws off of his blood on his body, making sure that she was as cleaned up as possible.

Surely, soon, she would have another master, another that she could serve. And she would end their lives in exactly the same way that she had done for so many before.

Tapping into the resources of the android factory and their customer base, of course, she always managed to find a master who wanted to be castrated, who wanted to submit and lose their lives to a creature just like her.

An android, yes…but stronger than so many expected of her. Smarter, more intelligent, better able to serve the needs of the masters.

The masters that she chose.

Thus, the lioness would always comply with the demands of her masters.