Seduced by Surrendered Hormones

I am abducted and forced feminized. Given hormones without my knowledge, and given body modifications, and after being chemically castrated, my captor gets me an orchiectomy. All this goes on while i am held captive and used as a sex slave for anyone my captor decides including himself. The whole time feeding me drugs that cause me to be extremely horny with litte inhibition. The story focuses on the description of the orchiectomy and the psychological effects of it and the drugs that make me so turned on

The sterile smell of the room does little to mask the dread that's become my constant companion. The stark white walls reflect the harsh fluorescent lights, casting a cold glow over the cold steel table I'm strapped to. My heart pounds as I glance down at my naked body, the changes horrifing and undeniable. My breasts, though small, are undeniably there, pert and sensitive. My once-strong legs are softer, my hips wider. But it's the absence that terrifies me most. I can't feel them anymore—the weight, the slight ache of my balls, gone. The absence feels so wrong. It’s more than just body mods, drugs, hormones, and castration. This is a void in my very essence. Drawn silicone tubes snake from under the sterile sheet draped over me, tapping into veins, feeding me a steady drip of whatever they've been using to keep me compliant and horny. My cock, now permanently erect and sensitive, twitches at the slightest touch, throbbing with a need that's almost painful. The door swings open, and he enters, his face a mask of cruel triumph. He's my captor, my tormentor, the one who's done this to me. He's dressed in crisp scrubs, a stethoscope draped around his neck, a bored smugness setting his jaw. "You're ready," he says, more statement than question. He consults a clipboard, his lips curled in a sneer. "The drugs should be working by now. You should be feeling... eager." I grit my teeth, fighting the wave of lust that surges through me. I can feel it, a hot pulse in my groin, a throb that demands release. My breath hitches as he approaches, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. I flinch, but he grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. "The surgery will be quick," he murmurs, his thumb tracing my lip. "And then, you'll be perfect. Ready for whatever I have planned." I can feel the tears welling up, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Instead, I focus on the hate, the anger, the betrayal. But underneath it all, there's a traitorous heat, a need that pulses in time with my heart. He leans in, his breath hot on my ear. "And you'll love every second of it," he whispers. "Because you'll be too horny to do anything but." I clench my fists, the restraints biting into my wrists. I hate him. I hate what he's done to me. But as he steps back, his eyes roaming over my body, I can't deny the throb of desire that surges through me. The drugs, the hormones, the constant use—I'm a puppet, and he's pulling the strings. He nods to someone behind me, and I hear the wheeled instrument cart roll closer. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. The psychological torture is nearly too much to bear. The drugs make it so hard to fight the urge to just give in and let him use me. I'm scared, angry, and so turned on I can barely see straight. I can't resist the drugs. They make me so horny, almost constantly aroused, and so ready for anything. Making the experience all the more traumatic, the more the days go on, the more I hate being so constantly horny, but I also love it, and the hatred for myself is almost too much to bear. As the surgeon prepares the instruments and the anasthetic, I feel a strange sense of detachment. This is happening. There's no stopping it. I sense him looking over at me as he's prepping. And even as the last of the sedative hits my veins, I catch his eyes. He gets off on this. On the power, the control. His eyes are dark, hungry. He wants this as much as he wants me. He wants to see me broken, willing, eager. It makes my heart race, with both fear and arousal. As blackness claims me, I hear his voice, soft and cruel. "Welcome to your new life," he whispers.

I stir, consciousness returning like a tide, dragging me back to the shore of reality. My body feels heavy, drugged, but there's a hum of awareness, a pulse of need that's impossible to ignore. I blink, my vision clearing to reveal the stark, sterile room. The table, the restraints, the cold steel under my back—all familiar, all terrifying. He's there, standing over me, his eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and lust. He's removed his scrubs, replacing them with a crisp black suit, the picture of control and dominance. I try to move, to fight, but my body is sluggish, betraying me. The drugs, the hormones—they're all working against me, turning my body into a traitor. He leans down, his breath hot on my ear. "Welcome back," he whispers, his voice a low purr. "How are you feeling?" I glare at him, hating him, hating the way my body responds to him. The throb between my legs is insistent, a demand for release. I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. He chuckles, a low, cruel sound. "Still defiant, I see. But that's alright. I have ways of making you talk." He reaches out, his fingers trailing down my chest, over my breasts, my stomach, until they brush against the root of my cock. I gasp, a shudder wracking my body. He smiles, his eyes darkening with lust. "See? You can't fight it forever. Your body knows what it wants. And I know what you want." I suck in a breath as his hand wraps around me, his thumb circling the sensitive tip. I can't help the moan that escapes, my hips bucking slightly against his touch. He grins, a cruel, triumphant smile. "There we go. That's what I like to see." He strokes me, his hand firm and confident. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine. I turn my head, refusing to kiss him, but he just chuckles, his lips trailing down my jaw, my neck. "You can fight it all you want," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. "But in the end, you'll give in. Because you need this. You need me." I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. He continues to stroke me, his touch firm and unyielding. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He moves down my body, his lips and tongue tracing a path down my chest, my stomach, until he's between my legs. I suck in a breath, my body tensing as he takes me in his mouth. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to my core. I can't help the moan that escapes, my hips bucking slightly against his touch. He looks up at me, his eyes dark and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice muffled against my skin. "Let go. Give in. You know you want to." I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each suck, each lick. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. He continues to suck me, his head bobbing up and down, his hand stroking me in time with his mouth. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He looks up at me, his eyes dark and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice muffled against my skin. "Let go. Give in. You know you want to."

He grins, a wicked curve of his lips that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand slides up my thigh, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin just below my hips. I can't help but whimper, my body arching slightly, seeking more contact. He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends a wave of heat through me. "You see?" he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Your body knows what it wants. And it wants me." I bite my lip, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. His touch is electric, every nerve ending in my body screaming for more. He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, mocking kiss. I try to turn my head, to break the contact, but he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't fight it," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "It's pointless. You're mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me." He trails his hand lower, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my balls. The absence sends a pang of emptiness. The void and the drugs mix into a sick feeling that's somehow also a burning heat. I feel a sob welling up in my chest, but it's cut off as he takes me deeper into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain. His touch is cruel, calculated, designed to break me down, to make me beg. And it's working. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He releases me with a pop, his breath hot on my skin. "You taste so good," he murmurs, his voice laced with lust. "So eager. So willing." He stands up, his eyes roaming over my body, taking in every inch of me. "You're perfect," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Absolutely perfect." He reaches down, his fingers brushing against the inside of my thigh. I shudder, my body tensing in anticipation. He smiles, a cruel, triumphant smile. "You want this," he says, his voice a low growl. "You want me to touch you. To fuck you. To use you." I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my body betrays me, my hips bucking slightly, seeking more contact. He chuckles, his fingers trailing up my thigh, closer to where I ache for him. "See?" he whispers, his breath hot on my ear. "You can't fight it forever. Your body knows what it wants. And it wants me." He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, mocking kiss. I try to turn my head, to break the contact, but he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't fight it," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "It's pointless. You're mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me." I glare at him, hating him, hating the way my body responds to him. The throb between my legs is insistent, a demand for release. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. He watches me, his eyes dark and hungry, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice soft and cruel. "Let go. Give in. You know you want to." He trails his fingers up my body, his touch light and teasing. I shudder, my body arching into his touch, seeking more. He smiles, a cruel, triumphant smile. "See?" he whispers, his breath hot on my skin. "You can't fight it forever. Your body knows what it wants. And it wants me." He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, mocking kiss. I try to turn my head, to break the contact, but he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't fight it," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "It's pointless. You're mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me." I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my body betrays me, my hips bucking slightly, seeking more contact. He chuckles, his fingers trailing up my thigh, closer to where I ache for him. "You want this," he says, his voice a low growl. "You want me to touch you. To fuck you. To use you." He leans down, his breath hot on my ear. "And I will," he whispers, his voice laced with lust and cruelty. "I'll touch you. I'll fuck you. I'll use you. Over and over again. Until you can't think of anything else. Until you can't imagine a life without me. Until you beg for it. Beg for me." I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. He watches me, his eyes dark and hungry, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice soft and cruel. "Let go. Give in. You know you want to. You need this. You need me." He trails his fingers down my body, his touch light and teasing. I shudder, my body arching into his touch, seeking more. He smiles, a cruel, triumphant smile. "See?" he whispers, his breath hot on my skin.

His fingers trace the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sending shivers up my spine. I can feel the fight leaving me, the resistance crumbling under his touch. I'm a prisoner, not just of the restraints, but of my own body, of the drugs and hormones coursing through my veins. I'm his, completely and utterly his. "I'll be your good little slut, won't I?" he murmurs, his voice a low, cruel purr. "You'll do anything I say, won't you? Anything I want." I nod, a small, defeated gesture. The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks. He smiles, a smug, triumphant smile, as if he's won a great victory. And in a way, he has. He's broken me, bent me to his will. His hand moves higher, his fingers brushing against the base of my cock. I gasp, my body arching into his touch. He chuckles, a low, throaty sound. "That's it," he whispers. "Good boy. You're learning so quickly." He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, mocking kiss. I try to turn my head, to break the contact, but he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Kiss me back," he commands, his voice harsh. "Show me you mean it." I hesitate, the defiance in me wanting to resist, to fight. But the need, the desire, the drugs—they're all too strong. I lean in, my lips pressing against his. He smiles, a cruel, triumphant smile, as he deepens the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth. I can taste him, a mix of mint and something else, something dark and forbidden. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. His hand wraps around me, his touch firm and confident. He strokes me, his hand moving in a slow, torturous rhythm. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot on my skin. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with lust and cruelty. "You like it when I touch you. When I make you feel good." I nod, a small, defeated gesture. The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks. He moves down my body, his lips and tongue tracing a path down my chest, my stomach, until he's between my legs. He takes me in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. I gasp, a shudder wracking my body. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to my core. I can't help the moan that escapes, my hips bucking slightly against his touch. He chuckles, the sound muffled against my skin. He continues to suck me, his head bobbing up and down, his hand stroking me in time with his mouth. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. He releases me with a pop, his breath hot on my skin. "You taste so good," he murmurs, his voice laced with lust. "So eager. So willing. You're going to love this, aren't you?" he asks, his voice a low growl. I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off with a harsh, "Not a sound. You whore, you don't get to say anything, you just get to take it. Open your mouth." I obey, my body trembling as he guides himself to my lips. He pushes into my mouth, his cock hot and hard against my tongue. I can taste him, salty and musky, a taste that's both familiar and foreign. He moves, his hips thrusting, pushing him deeper into my mouth. I gag slightly, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable. But he just chuckles, a low, cruel sound. "That's it," he whispers. "Take it. Take all of it. You're mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me." I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. He continues to fuck my mouth, his hips moving in a slow, torturous rhythm. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each thrust. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch.

I have become his horny insatiable sissy whore. Willing to do what ever he tells me to. Wanting nothing but to please him, and whomever else he decides

He pulls out of my mouth with a wet pop, a streak of spit connecting us briefly before breaking. He looms over me, his chest heaving, eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and dominance. "Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So eager to please. So desperate for my cock. You're pathetic." I blink up at him, tears streaking my cheeks, but my body betrays me and I whimper, my mouth open, eager for more. He smiles cruelly, running a thumb over my swollen lip. "You love this, don't you?" he says. "Being my little sissy slut. Taking my cock like the good little whore you are." I nod, a shiver running down my spine as his fingers trail down my body. He grabs my hips, flipping me onto my stomach. I gasp, my cheeks burning with humiliation as he spreads my ass cheeks, exposing me completely. I can feel his breath on my skin, hot and heavy. "Please," I whisper, the word torn from my lips. He chuckles, a low, cruel sound. "Please what, my little slut?" he asks, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Please fuck me? Please use me? Please make me your whore?" "Yes," I gasp, the word barely audible. "Yes, please." He spits on my ass, the warm wetness sending a shiver through me. He rubs his saliva into my skin, his fingers circling my tight hole. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. I'm his now. Every inch of me belongs to him. He presses a finger into me, a sharp sting followed by a wave of pleasure. I moan, my body arching into his touch. He chuckles, a low, cruel sound. "That's it," he whispers. "Take it. Take my finger. You're going to take my cock next. You're going to take whatever I give you. Aren't you?" "Yes," I gasp, the word torn from my lips. "Yes, I will." He adds another finger, stretching me, preparing me for what's to come. I can feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each touch. I try to fight it, to hold back, but it's useless. My body is a traitor, eager and willing under his touch. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see my pain, my humiliation. I'm his now. Every inch of me belongs to him. And I want it. I need it. I need him.