“Two to three inches in, if you hook your fingers downward, you’ll feel a curious plateau. A flat spot. That’s the prostate. In castrating him, it remains idle with the inability to ejaculate. That’s not good. So just rub your fingers about to knead and massage. In a minute or two the fluid he now secretes will begin to flow in abundance. Then with your left hand pretend that little pecker of his is a cow’s udder. That’s why it’s termed milking and I’ll want him done twice per month. Nothing but the best of care for my pony boy. And once per month you should gather a sample and get it over to the vet for analysis.”
As Heather talks, I feel the fingers of the obeisant Luke enter and indeed begin to knead and massage. Such humiliation. I want to protest. No, really to plead. But when I open
