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Disclaimer: All characters are fictional and over the age of 18. Don't try this at home.
Lindy hated working on the farm. Sure, she'd robbed a guy at gunpoint and then kicked him in the groin to buy herself some time to escape, but she still thought the punishment was unfair. Actually, any punishment was. It wasn't her fault she was poor and the rich wouldn't hand over their money without force. But she'd rather be in jail than wander around among stinking, bleating animals and pile up manure—as her rehabilitation and service to a society she despised. And then the guy she'd robbed had the nerve to claim he'd had potency problems ever since! As if he didn't already. She'd probably damaged his ego more than his balls!
But the worst was Mr. Milkers, the farmer. Oh, he was so kind and so understanding, at least on the surface. But Lindy had noticed how he oggled her and the other girls and their behinds when he thought no one was watching. He even secretly rubbed his dick through his pants or weighed his heavy balls in his hand. He was definitely thinking about the girls who worked on his rehabilitation farm when he was jerking off. It was only a matter of time before he raped someone, Lindy was absolutely convinced of it. Besides, he liked the brandy way too much, which was another red flag for her.
Lindy was helping him castrate the young male lambs right now. Her job was to hold the lamb firmly between her thighs and spread its hind legs with her hands so Mr. Milkers could put on the castration band, a tight rubber ring stretched with a strange device called an elastrator. Mr. Milkers guided the lamb's testicles through the wide opening of the ring and then released it. The lamb let out a high-pitched bleat as the rubber ring closed tightly and painfully around the base of its scrotum.
"There you go, little boy. But you won't stay a boy for long," Mr. Milkers said with a sly smile.
"And that's all it takes?" asked Lindy, frowning.
"Yes, basically," said Mr. Milkers, rubbing his hands together. "The rubber band cuts off the blood supply, and the balls die shortly afterward. Eventually, the balls and sack fall off by themselves, and the lamb becomes a docile and tame little ram that will provide some tasty mutton later on."
Lindy's gaze drifted thoughtfully to the bulge in Mr. Milkers' crotch.
"And that would work on men too?" she asked innocently.
Mr. Milkers blushed, then went pale. "Um... uh... technically, yes. Anatomically, it's the same. But castrating people, um... well, that should be left to doctors, and of course, only in emergencies. Why do you want to know?"
"Oh, I'm just curious," Lindy replied.
"Um... okay, that's enough chatting. We've got ten more to go before dinner time", Mr. Milkers stuttered. "Let's fetch the next one!"
He turned around and heading for the lambing pen. Lindy followed close behind him, her eyes sparkling and a mischievous grin on her face. Tonight she had to watch very closely where Mr. Milkers put the elastrator after work.
It was shortly after midnight when Lindy opened the door to Mr. Milkers' bedroom. The door wasn't locked, as if the big, strong man had nothing to fear in his own home. Lindy had made sure Mr. Milkers had more brandy than usual so he could sleep soundly. She cautiously crept up to the bed where Mr. Milkers was sleeping like a baby, or at least as one would hope a baby would. She reached for the blanket and pulled it away. "Oh," she said softly, realizing that Mr. Milkers was sleeping naked. That would make things considerably easier!
Mr. Milkers was in good shape for a man in his forties. All that work on the farm was probably paying off. His manhood was quite impressive, too. It was flaccid at the moment, but she could still tell it must be about 8 inches long when erect. Her real target, however, was his thick, hairy balls just below it. They were impressive as well, about the size of two chicken eggs. She spread his legs a little wider to get better access. Then she pulled the elastrator from her pocket. The rubber ring was already hooked onto the clamp. With some effort, she opened the ring wide, grasped Mr. Milkers' testicles, and carefully and slowly pushed them through the rubber ring. When the ring reached the base of his scrotum, Lindy let go. The ring closed tightly around the base of his scrotum, and Mr. Milkers groaned in his sleep but didn't wake up. He was too drunk for that, but he'd probably incorporated the pain into his dreams somehow, Lindy thought. She breathed a sigh of relief now that the deed was done. But she wasn't entirely satisfied. Mr. Milkers had mentioned at dinner that it would actually take weeks for the balls to fall off. What if he woke up too soon, so soon that his balls could still be saved?
Then Lindy had an idea. She attached another rubber band to the pliers and placed it on Mr. Milkers' scrotum as well, about half an inch below the first. All she needed know was a blade. Lindy noticed that Mr. Milker's pants were hanging over a chair. She rummaged through the pockets and found a pocketknife. She unfolded the blade and neatly cut off Mr. Milker's balls between the rubber bands. Mr. Milker groaned in his sleep and turned over, but still didn't wake up. There was only a small drop of blood on the sheet; the first rubber band had stopped further bleeding, and the second had kept Mr. Milker's severed balls from slipping out of his scrotum. Lindy held his balls in her hand and smiled. They were still warm.
She would have to find a way to preserve them. Although she had never castrated a man before, she was sure that a first pair of stolen balls was something special, and she wanted a keepsake. She tucked the balls and elastrator neatly into her pocket and left the farm without looking back. She was proud of having made sure this farm was now a safe place for girls, now that the lecherous farmer was deballed. She wasn't sure what would happen next, but Lindy knew what she wanted to do next. Find the guy who blamed her for his erectile dysfunction! If he wanted her to be the cause of his sexual problems, she'd do him that favor! And why not start a collection while she was at it?