Feminized Submission: Orchiectomy Addiction

I accidentally fall into a submissive role with an older Dominant man who slowly feminized me to the point that he has me undergo an orchiectomy, which further feminized me, and I become addicted to pleasing him.

--- The first time I met him, I wasn’t looking to submit. Not really. I was at a dimly lit lounge downtown, nursing a cocktail and pretending I wasn’t scoping out the crowd. That’s when *he* walked in—tall, silver at the temples, eyes like he could see right through my carefully constructed bullshit. He didn’t bother with small talk. Just sat beside me, ordered a drink I’d never heard of, and said, *"You look like you need to be told what to do."* I laughed it off. But my stomach tightened. Two weeks later, I was on my knees in his penthouse, lips wrapped around his cock while his hand fisted my hair. *"Good boy,"* he murmured, and the rush of approval was better than any high. It wasn’t just sex. It was training. Slowly, meticulously, he reshaped me. Silky panties under my slacks. A padded bra when we went out. The way his voice turned rough when he caught me touching myself—*"Not without permission."* Then came the surgery. His idea. His *reward* for obedience. Strapped to his bed, legs spread, as he traced the smooth, hairless skin between my thighs. *"No more testosterone,"* he whispered. *"Just pleasure. Just me."* And god, I craved it. Now? I don’t remember what it felt like to be in control—and I don’t want to. ---