{ASSTR 10 r04} Cathy Harte's Outback Cuts {Big Billie} (circ
F/mmmMMM, cane F/F sc)
Cathy Harte's Outback Cuts
or Knife and Cane
By Big Billie
(c) Big Billie 2010. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary gain.
Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to circumcision and
spanking except for consenting adults. However, circumcision and
spanking sexually excite him, so he writes about them.
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Author's Prologue
For an account of my experience of, and attitudes towards,
circumcision, please see the Prologue to ASSTR 08.
This story is about a malicious man-hating lesbian who enjoys
circumcising males of all ages. I find it sexually stimulating to
write about her, but please note that her attitude to circumcision
is the opposite of mine.
As in my other circumcision stories my two main motives are:
1. To sexually excite readers, including myself; and
2. To end neonatal and other unnecessary circumcisions,
especially in the USA where they are currently depressingly common.
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My name is Cathy Harte. I am a doctor in my late 50s. For the last
thirty years I have been operating as a general practitioner in
Eubonga Springs, a small town with its surrounding countryside of
about 15,000 people in Western Australia. Recently I downloaded from
the Internet some memoirs allegedly written by an English surgeon
called Jillian Philpott. These detailed Jill's exploits, whilst
operating as a urino-genital surgeon, in circumcising a large number
of her male patients.
Well, I do not know if Mrs. Philpott's memoirs are genuine. It is
clear that, at the very least, the names and locations have been
changed to protect the guilty. But, genuine or not, I found her
account most stimulating, and I thought that you might be interested
in my reminiscences on the same topic. The main difference between
us, as you will see, is that most of Jill's victims were patients
referred to her in adulthood, whereas most (but not all) of mine
have been babies whom I have circumcised neonatally.
Ours is a small, very isolated community. I am the only doctor. For
the last 3 years I have worked with a young nurse and midwife called
Judy MacDonald. Judy is now aged 24. She is a strikingly beautiful
girl. Her father's family is Scottish, but her mother is an
Aborigine. In Judy's case this ethnic mix is exquisite. It is coffee
with just the right amount of cream and brown sugar. I am infatuated
with Judy. Luckily, she is very fond of me too. Ever since Judy
arrived we have got on really well, and for the last two years we
have been conducting a delicious, highly secretive, lesbian love
affair.
With Judy's help I deliver most of the children in Eubonga Springs,
and I am responsible for the post-natal care of all of them. When a
boy baby is born, or as soon after as I can if I missed the birth, I
always strongly recommend his parents to let me circumcise him. I
enumerate the supposed benefits of this procedure and end by saying
that it is a very minor operation, and that I never make any extra
charge for performing it. We get about 180 births a year in the
practice, or about 3 or 4 a week. Thus the number of boy babies is
usually just over 90 a year, or 1 to 3 every week. In the last 30
odd years, taking into account the baby boom of the 1960s, etc., I
have been responsible for the delivery and post-natal care of more
than 3,000 boys. I circumcised the vast majority of these, and I
continue to do so since, thankfully, the vociferous campaign
currently being waged by some Australians against the procedure has
not got through to our very isolated community. For the last three
years Judy has been my loyal and dedicated accomplice in this work.
Like Jill Philpott I love circumcision. As for Judy she enjoys it
every bit as much as I do, if not more so. Oh, yes! Circumcision
really turns both of us on. From the word go, and from long before I
got to know Judy, I have kept detailed private records, on a card
index system, of exactly whom I have circumcised, where and when.
There are also about 3,000 small sealed phials, containing all the
foreskins I have severed preserved in formaldehyde. The phials are
numbered for easy cross-reference to the card index records.
I get a real kick from cutting cocks. It gives me a great feeling of
power to know that the mutilation that I am inflicting will last a
lifetime. However hard he tries, the victim will never be able to
shake off or live down his sexy and amusing little snip, no matter
how infuriated and humiliated he is by it. Even worse from the
victims' point of view, and even more sexy and amusing from our
vantage point, like Jill Philpott I always circumcise as tightly as
I dare. I snip off as much foreskin as I think I can get away with,
and, on the under side of the cock just below the glans or cock
head, I always try to cut off all of the deliciously sensitive
triangular flap of skin known as the frenulum, so that not so much
as a vestige of it is left behind.
Indeed, I go even further than that. The distinction that Jill
Philpott draws between messy and neat circumcisions is interesting.
Like Jill I can see a lot to commend the messy style; it must be a
great feeling of power to know that you have dished out to the
victim a really beat up, battered cock, resplendent with skin flaps,
stitch tunnels and a jagged, irregular, ugly scar. To send a neonate
on his way into the world with a legacy like that must be a real
hoot. I can just imagine him, in later life, ruefully surveying the
damage and wincing at his disfigurement and at his lost pleasure.
But, having said that, I must admit that I personally always try to
perform a neat and precise circumcision; you see, I do not want my
victims to be too conscious of their mutilation. If they were they
might resent what I had done to them and refuse to let me circumcise
their sons.
However, I exact a price for my careful and meticulous surgery. I
precisely and exactly chop off as many of the pleasurable bits as I
can, including, as I have said, the whole of the frenulum.
I also etch into every cock that I butcher my own personal
"signature." I "sign my name" so to speak in the little "valley"
underneath the cock-head where the frenulum is attached to the
glans. That is the point where I meticulously scoop out and
excavate, with wicked precision, the tip of the frenulum before I go
on to chop off the rest of it. Then I apply stitches and/or sutures
as necessary to produce a neat circumcision with an almost invisible
circumcision scar. Ouch! The end product looks a "snip" so to speak,
and the victim usually does not realise just exactly how much there
is that is missing.
The scooping out of the tip of the frenulum creates, when the cock
has healed up, a tiny triangle of scar tissue stretched tightly
across and into the little indentation on the underside of the cock
head; and this is the hallmark of a Cathy Harte neonatal
circumcision.
From time to time circumcised men come to me with willie problems,
and I need to inspect their tackle. In some such cases I have not
yet got out their medical records, and I cannot remember whether or
not it was me who circumcised them. Then I will flip over their
cocks and observe that wicked little triangular scar.
"Remind me Mr. Stevens (or whoever)" I say. "What is your exact date
of birth?" Then, after they have told me, I will add, "Oh, yes. I
remember now. I was your baby doctor, wasn't I?" And I allow myself
a secret, smug, self-satisfied, triumphant grin as I think to
myself, "Yes, mate! And I have given you something to remember me
by, something that you will never live down, shake off or wriggle
out of! Cop that, sucker! I've cut you to size! I've nailed you good
and proper!"
Subsequently I check my assertion against the medical records, and I
find that I have never got it wrong yet. It is, however, the small
scar nestled in the division cleft between the two meaty little
cheeks on the underneath of the glans that gives the game away. I
can never, ever, remember whether I was their baby doctor or not. I
mean, come on! With a total tally of more than three thousand
foreskins that I have chopped off how can I be expected to recall my
victims personally?
An interesting feature of my circumcision style is my "slap and
sickle" regime. Now "slap and tickle" is usually a pleasurable
experience for its practitioners; but this, although it sounds
similar, is much less enjoyable. Let me explain. Some boy babies cry
out as soon as they are born. Many, however, do not and these I
promptly pick up by the feet with my left hand and as they hang
upside down I flatten my right hand and deliver a hard, smart,
unceremonious slap to their bare arses. Then, unless they are quick
about responding to that, I slap their bare arses after a similar
fashion for a second time causing them to bawl out indignantly at
the demeaning outrage inflicted upon them.
That is the "slap" part of the regime. Shortly after comes the
"sickle" treatment. A sickle, of course, is a short scythe, and I go
on to scythe off the victim's foreskin in the brutal and
comprehensive manner described above. Wow! What a way to welcome a
man child into the world! First a woman slaps his bare arse for him;
then a woman cuts off a piece of his cock! That sets the correct
agenda! May women continue to call the shots, to control and direct
him and all men throughout their lives! Long live FemDom!
On the other hand, neither Judy nor I like hurting babies. We are
also concerned that, if we cause distress to a baby that we are
circumcising, it might make his parents less likely to let us cut
any little brothers that he may acquire later. We therefore try to
minimise the pain and trauma of our patients by the use of local,
externally applied anaesthetics. No, the real pleasure we get from
our exploits comes later, and gets greater over the years. Not that
we do not anticipate our enjoyment at the time, of course. "That's
for nothing," or "that's just for being a man," or "that's for what
you are going to do to young ladies," I will say to my infant victim
after I have trimmed him tight. "So watch it, young man. At the
slightest hint of any hanky-panky I'll take your balls as well."
These days, by the time of their marriage, many of our young men
have moved away from town. Nevertheless, they often come back to get
married, and, even if they do not, their wedding is usually
reported, together with a photograph, in the local press since they
almost always have a lot of friends or relatives here. Thus, on
average, I should say that every week I hear about the weddings of
between one and three young men whom, as babies, I circumcised.
Now, whenever one of my victims gets married I have a procedure. I
gather, from the press and from word of mouth throughout our small
community, as much information about the bride as I can. All this is
filed in a system integrated with my card index. Included in the
file, except in a few rare cases where I could not get them, are one
or more photographs of the blushing bride, at the wedding, and, if
possible, taken on other occasions. For reasons that will soon
become clear, I am particularly keen to get my hands on pictures of
the bride in skimpy summer clothing or, even better, in swimwear.
Nearly all the weddings of young men I have circumcised take place
on a Saturday. Saturday night, therefore, is usually the night of
the week for Judy and me. I go to my records and take out the phials
containing my victims' foreskins, and the photographs of their
brides (if one or more of these is by then available, which it often
is). Then (oh exquisite joy!) Judy and I lie naked in bed together
and begin to fantasise. The more beautiful the bride, and the more
we both fancy her, the more our fantasies turn us on. Last year, for
example, one young man I had circumcised as a baby married a
stunning, leggy brunette who had just been voted Miss Student Sydney
in one of our big national beauty contests. The wedding was held
locally, and Judy and myself were invited to both the ceremony and
the reception. Of course, we both took advantage of the situation to
assiduously chat up the beautiful, blushing bride. Wow, she was
gorgeous, far too stunning and sexy for any man to enjoy perfectly,
with his foreskin on!
Of course, not all of my victims marry girls who are sumptuously
beautiful. Some of their brides are fat and/or frumpy. But my view
is that sex with any young lady before she arrives at her fiftieth
birthday gives a man too much pleasure. He has no right to taste
that lady perfectly, to enjoy himself that much. His foreskin should
be in one of my phials (which, indeed, it frequently is). He is
entitled to married bliss with his bride, but only up to a point.
His ecstasy should be circumscribed. "Yes, young man", I will gloat
to myself as I gaze into his phial, "I have taken the top off your
wedding night and no mistake!"
And yet it seems unfair that the husband of a plain if youthful wife
should pay the same penalty as someone married to a stunning, sexy
young sizzler. He should really be compensated by having less of his
foreskin cut off, if this were practical. Yes, in theory (but
definitely not, of course, in practice!) he might well be entitled
to a little fold of prepuce, a residual flap that had escaped my
sharp avenging knife. On the other hand, even the fattest and
ugliest ladies in their teens, twenties, thirties, and forties, have
more than enough sex appeal to stiffen the cocks of all healthy men,
whether those cocks be intact or well cut.
What, however, when a woman gets older, into her fifties, sixties
and above, especially if she was no oil painting in the first place?
As I explain below, I sometimes get to circumcise older cocks. This
gives Judy and me great delight. Very exceptionally we may agree to
spare a potential victim. For this rare concession to be granted,
however, the victim must meet a number of stringent criteria.
Firstly, his wife must be at least 50 years of age, or in other
words she must be a middle aged lady, as defined by the World Health
Organisation, of at least five year's standing. Secondly, his wife
must be an ugly and completely unattractive old boot. This value
judgement I leave for Judy to make. "Surely", I will say, "old Fred
(or whoever) deserves all the pleasure that he can get out of that
old trout?" "Oh, no!" Judy will reply. "She may be well into her
fifties, but she is still a striking figure of a woman."
Unfortunately for most of my victims, Judy fancies older women; she
has a very catholic taste in them, and lusts after them both fat and
thin. And, if she _does_ fancy them, she always decides, in her envy
and spite, to have their husbands' cocks well cut!
I must make myself clear on one point, however. Judy and I do not
want to discourage sexual intercourse. We just want to make sure
that men pay an appropriate physical price for the merchandise at
their disposal, and for their use and enjoyment of it. On this one,
however, it is Judy's shout, and for her there are two questions, at
least one of which must be answered in the affirmative if the cock
is to be spared.
The first of these is "if this man is circumcised, will he be less
likely to bonk his wife?" Now this question is scarcely worth
asking. Judy admits that, not being a man herself, she can never
know the correct answer to it. There must always be an element of
doubt, she argues, and, if the potential choppee were consistently
given the benefit of this, no one would ever get chopped. Judy's
answer, therefore, is always a mere formality. In every single case
she has delivered a strict and stern "No" verdict.
The second question is "If this man bonks his wife without his
foreskin on, will he get less pleasure than he is entitled to?" Here
again Judy's verdict is usually an emphatic and parsimonious "No,"
but in two cases, where the wife has been old, frail, ugly and/or in
poor health, her answer was a begrudging "Yes." The result was that,
for a time, there were two old men walking around our practice with
their foreskins on that we had had it in our power to circumcise.
Now, however, there is only one. This is because in one case Judy
made a mistake. She spared a man's cock on the grounds that his wife
was ill, as well as being old, frail, ugly and completely
unattractive. Then the man went and ran off with a young, sexy
bimbo. For two years Judy was mortified that she had let him off the
hook. Then, however, he came back to me complaining of a renewed
attack of phimosis. This time Judy showed him no mercy. She got me
to cure his condition with a punitive and severely comprehensive
circumcision that, at her request, I made all the more drastic
because he had betrayed his wife and had dared to rub his foreskin
up the bimbo's love tunnel. We have his severed prepuce and frenulum
in a jar of formaldehyde (they were far too big to fit into one of
the phials I use for neonatal circumcisions) and, at times like the
anniversary of his wedding to the bimbo, we take them out and giggle
saucily over them. "Yes mate!" we will say, "Cop that! You deserved
it! We've well punished you, right at the point of pleasurable
transgression! We've scarred and calloused over your cock for you!
We've cut short your pleasure and no mistake! There must be about 18
square inches of sensitive, nerve enriched cock skin here that will
never again taste the sharp, sensual ecstasy of a warm, moist
vagina! I bet the flesh that is left is pulled as tight as a drum
skin up and over your erect shaft. I bet a lively session in bed
gives it a real battering and makes it exquisitely raw, sore and
tender! And look! There is the frenulum. Every last millimetre of it
has been completely chopped off. You'll get no more frenetic
pleasure from that mate! In fact, you won't get any more pleasure at
all! Serves you right you lascivious, adulterous, traitorous old
bastard!"
As I have explained, most of my victims I circumcise neonatally.
Sometimes, however, as you can see from the above narrative, I get a
chance to wield my knife on an older cock, and to add to my
collection of trophies by plopping big, adult foreskins and
frenulums into jars of formaldehyde. Oh, yes! Every time that I chop
a cock, whether of a neonate or of an older man, I always make sure
that I keep a little memento of my triumph! Anyway, let me explain.
From time to time boys and men will come to me with willie problems.
The most usual of these is infection under the foreskin. This can be
caused by sexual intercourse. When it is the usual term for it is
thrush. Anyway, there are a number of conditions that can cause
angry red swellings and/or sores and abrasions on the cock. Another
difficulty, sometimes linked to this one, is the condition known as
phimosis. This is where the foreskin is tight, and cannot easily be
pulled over the glans and down the shaft. I should say that
uncircumcised patients come to me on average between 3 and 5 times a
year with such problems. When they do, I always advocate
circumcision. This, I tell the victim, can be carried out overnight
under general anaesthetic, while he is cared for in a bed at my
clinic. I expound the supposed benefits of this procedure (much less
likelihood of infection of cock head, genital hygiene, man less
liable to penile cancer, woman's reduced risk of cancer of cervix,
etc., etc.). I go on to point out (liar that I am!) that there are
no disadvantages to the operation, except that the circumcised cock
might be a little tender for a while. (A little tender! You bet it
might! And the rest! For an average of about 9 weeks the victim will
be far too sore for any nooky, no matter how sexy his lady, or how
lasciviously he lusts after her. Oh, yes! His sexy little snip costs
the average punter many a wince, grunt and gasp before he recovers
his composure. It is not for nothing that Judy has dubbed me "Cock
Throbbin'"!)
I never advocate circumcision on the occasion when a patient first
complains to me of prepuce problems. Instead, I arrange a second
appointment and ask Judy for a call on whether or not she wants me
to cut him. In the meantime, I do something rather naughty. I give
the victim a tube, which I claim contains an anti-bacterial,
fungicidal cream. "I need to monitor the situation here for a
while," I will say. "In the meantime try this. It is unlikely to do
much good in the long term, but it is probably worth a try because
it may relieve the immediate symptoms." Except that it does not.
This is because it is not an antibiotic, fungicidal cream at all. It
is not even a placebo. It is a substance that I have specially
chosen for its ability to feed and encourage all forms of
parasitical skin gobbler under the prepuce. Then, when the victim
comes back to me with much worse symptoms than at first, I drop him
the sucker punch about his little operation. Most men at this stage
swallow the bait hook, line and sinker, and allow me to go on and
circumcise them. A few do not, and these I advise to continue with
the cream, giving them, in addition, an ointment which is equally
nutritious to bacteria and fungi, for good measure. This causes
their symptoms to worsen so catastrophically that in every single
case they have returned chastened and requesting surgery. Then, when
I finally circumcise them, I always give them a "penalty cut" (see
below) as a punishment for being recalcitrant patients, and for not
taking my advice in the first place.
(Incidentally, my victims also take a penalty cut if they try to
engage me in dialogue about their operation, and/or to tell me how
they would prefer to be trimmed. This has happened on 3 occasions,
and every time it really got my goat. After all, who did these
interfering busybodies think that they were? _I_ was the competent
professional, and it was up to me to decide how they should be
mutilated. Cheeky bastards! What! Did they think they had rights, or
something? In each of the three cases I faced the insolent and
impudent democrats out and told them that, for the operation to be a
success, there was only one way to perform it. Then I performed it
that way, and harder! The sexiest of the three cases was a 22-year-
old man with a stunning, clitoris-moistening, 17-year-old wife. Oh,
wow! Did I slap _him_ down and make him pay for his misguided
attempt at participative democracy! Whack! From the start I had
intended to cut him hard; then, to punish his lippy remarks, I cut
him harder than that! I suppose that he still enjoys his wife; but,
he enjoys her less than he would have done if he had not been so
cheeky, and, as a direct result of his insolence, there is a
significant little extra piece of him that will never again enjoy
her at all!)
The penalty cut, in fact, is inflicted upon a fair number of men
whom I circumcise as adolescents or adults. This is for several
reasons. Let me cite you some examples.
Not long ago I inspected the willie of an 18-year-old farm hand.
Before he entered the consulting room he had been chatting up Judy
in reception. This had clearly over-excited him. He had recovered
his self composure to some extent by the time I had his trousers
down, but, unfortunately for him, he was still semi-aroused and at
"half cock." Well, I can tell you that when I got to circumcise him
he paid for that little peccadillo with interest. At the operation
Judy was very strict with him. "The impudent young whippersnapper,"
she fumed. "How dare he consider me a sex object? The effrontery of
it! I'll punish him for his insolence! I'll soon slap him back into
line. Cut him, Cathy! Cut him hard!" And I did too! And, as Judy's
lover, I was, as she had been, particularly strict with him. I felt
jealous and spiteful, and I really let him have it!
Then there was the case of the big, strapping 28-year-old Aussie
rules football player who had given Judy a drunken grope at his club
disco. Wow! From his point of view that was an expensive mistake,
and one for which he paid dearly! Needless to say, when Judy was
lucky enough to get him under the knife she gave him good cause to
regret his indiscretion. And again, as Judy's outraged lover, I was
particularly savage with the miscreant.
Then there was the retired secondary school teacher in his late
sixties called Phil "Slap Happy" Nappy. In his day, he had been a
firm and enthusiastic disciplinarian, and had gone around slippering
everyone, even the girls. No, worse than that, Judy tells me. He
particularly enjoyed slippering young ladies, especially the bigger,
meatier, more nubile ones. No beauteous young female was safe from
the dirty old sod; he seemed to have a particularly strong crush on
Judy, and he would slipper her for the slightest reason. You see,
Judy was born and raised in Eubonga Springs (I circumcised her four
brothers!) and thus it was that, during her schooldays, she felt
"Slap Happy's" slipper across her buttocks on numerous occasions,
until she was aged 16+. Well! Needless to say, the dirty old pervert
was well chastised for his lascivious pleasures! When he developed
an infection under his foreskin Judy got me to cure the condition by
inflicting a particularly vicious, savage and comprehensive
circumcision.
However, Phil's was not the most vicious and savage circumcision
that I have ever masterminded. The recipient of that was one Bert
Bulstrode, a traffic warden in downtown Eubonga Springs. Bert is a
familiar figure in our town centre, and he enforces the parking laws
with gleeful strictness and severity; but, as you will now learn,
when he tangled with Judy he bit off rather more than he could chew.
It was two or three years ago that Judy became one of Bert's
victims. Fair enough. She had parked illegally, she had caused an
obstruction, and she deserved to get her bottom smacked. But
unfortunately for her she had parked with the front of her car
overhanging a disabled person's bay, and for this Bert stung her
with a swingeing surcharge; the total rap for the fine and the
surcharge was A$640, about US$450 or roughly GB£250. Ouch! Nurses
are not the best paid of people, and that was well over a day's pay
for Judy, and even more than that after tax. It was the first
parking ticket that she had ever received and it really upset her;
when she arrived at work that day she was almost in tears, and she
felt very sorry for herself for several weeks afterwards. Oh yes!
The ticket that Bert slapped onto Judy's windscreen really hurt her;
it stung her to the quick. Yet he inflicted it casually, unheedingly
and insouciantly. He thought that it was funny, of no consequence,
one big joke, and he displayed the utmost unheeding indifference at
the victim's fate, and at her distress.
Worst of all, Bert was seriously over excited that he had managed to
catch out and slap down such a tempting and desirable piece of Eve's
flesh; he filled out Judy's ticket in a leisurely and expansive
fashion whist regaling her with a barrage of sexy, saucy, salacious,
disciplinarian, Mickey-taking put-downs. Judy tells me that he
teased her mercilessly, quipping that she "deserved to be
disciplined." She "needed to be slapped into line," he added. She
must be "punished" and "stung" for her peccadillo, and, in his
opinion, her "six hundred and forty of the best" were well
merited. And so on. Judy was chastened, mortified and humiliated.
She claims, in my view correctly, that what Bert did amounted to
sexual harassment. Oh, yes! Bert Bulstrode ruined Judy's day, and a
fair number of her other days as well.
Dear reader, you can guess the rest. Yes, about 18 months later Bert
came to my surgery with an infection under his foreskin. It looked
like a very bad case of sexually transmitted thrush to me, and, as I
was later to learn from the local gossip, that indeed was what it
was. Apparently, one of Bert's female victims had offered him sex if
he tore up her ticket. Well, the story goes that Bert met her after
work and gave her a right good seeing to. However, when she tried to
return her parking ticket he refused to take it, and told her that
she would still have to pay the fine. Well, no doubt the double-
crossing bastard thought that he had been very clever; but what Bert
did not know was that the lady herself had also been shrewd. She was
far from an innocent victim; she had deliberately and maliciously
given Bert a little something to remember her by.
Well, I handed Bert my fake bacteria-nutritious cream, and after he
had applied it the skin gobblers under his foreskin bred and
multiplied exponentially; on his second visit Bert's cock was a real
mess, and he was ripe and ready for the sucker punch. The only
effective cure for his condition, I told him, was circumcision.
Oh, wow! I do not think that I have ever enjoyed anything, even
lesbian sexual intercourse, much more than I enjoyed the mutilation
of Bert's cock. I let Judy perform the surgery, under my close
instructions. Ouch! She really butchered him! Firstly, she chopped
him very tight; she really "cut him back to the balls" as the
Americans say. Secondly, she completely hacked off his frenulum.
Thirdly, guided by me, she cut him extremely "low and tight." In
other words, as well as the frenulum, she excavated the vast
majority of his sensitive inner foreskin, and then stitched him up
so that he only had a very thin strip of inner foreskin between his
insensitive lower cock skin and his cock head.
Wow! I bet that circumscribed his pleasure! There is not a lot of
sensitivity up most of Bert's cock shaft now, and if he wanks
himself off he does not have too many options. All he can do now is
caress his knob head and hope that is enough to bring him off. Even
better, Bert is already into his early 50s. Give him another 5 to 10
years, and his cock should be well desensitised; soon, it is going
to cost him a fortune in Viagra purchases if he wants to experience
any real action!
As I gazed down on Bert's butchered chopper I thought of all the
young ladies that he had victimised with his parking tickets and
sexually harassed with his indecent verbals; I thought of all the
young mums, hot and bothered, dragging their children after them,
who were even hotter and more bothered after Bert had stuck a hefty
ticket on them; and I thought of the entire motoring population of
Eubonga Springs, who lived in constant fear and trepidation of this
officious, excessive, over-the-top, vindictive bastard. And you know
what, dear reader? It made me feel very, very good!
The next morning Bert, shocked and traumatised by his operation, was
lying in bed in our clinic when Judy came to tend to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Bulstrode, do you remember me?"
"Yes, Miss MacDonald, I certainly do?"
"Do you recall that eighteen months ago you gave me a parking
ticket?"
Well, Bert was feeling rather too sorry for himself after his
surgery to sound triumphalist, but there was a satisfied gleam in
his eye as he made his reply.
"Yes, that's right. I did, didn't I?"
"Because of you I had to fork out A$640; that was well over a day's
pay, and most of the money that I had saved up for my summer
holiday."
"I know you did. They'd just raised the tariff by 50 percent," said
Bert smugly.
Then Judy, having prepared the ground, delivered her punch line.
"Yes," she replied ruefully, "I felt very sore and cut up about it."
Then she paused, and, in a sweet, innocent voice, asked:
"Tell me, Mr. Bulstrode. How do you feel this morning?"
I must admit that I have never dared to circumcise anyone else as
savagely as we circumcised Bert Bulstrode. What we did to him was
way over the top, and it was the only time in my life that I have
put my career on the line to get back at a patient. If Bert had
complained, and if I had been hauled up before the Medical Council,
it could have turned very nasty. I worried about it for several
months, and I thought through my best line of defence. You can
imagine the sort of thing: serious risk of renewed infection, inner
foreskin more prone to attack than outer foreskin and best excised,
infection serious, could have caused permanent mutilation, needed
drastic and effective treatment, etc, etc. Except that it did not
sound very convincing, even to me. My best hope, I concluded, was
that Bert would never complain because of the public embarrassment.
You see, most of the folk of Eubonga Springs hate Bert and if they
heard that some of his naughty bits had been cruelly chopped off
they would think it was hilariously funny. Anyway, for whatever
reason, Bert never did lodge a formal complaint, and I was able to
heave a huge sigh of relief.
As I have said, Judy and I cut Bert Bulstrode "low and tight." We
hacked out the vast majority of his sensitive inner foreskin to
leave only a thin, vestigial strip. Now the opposite of "low and
tight" is "high and tight." Here more of the inner foreskin is
spared but a greater amount of outer foreskin is excised. Which of
these two styles is the more punitive is a moot point. On the face
of it "high and tight" is worse for the victim since his "sore
strip" (as I call it) is nice and thick. It is also more sensitive
to pain and friction, especially when a drastic cut pulls it as
tight as a drum skin up the stiffened shaft. The "high and tight"
victim thus emerges from the jousts of Venus with a sore and tender
cock.
So why then, you may ask, did we cut Bert "low and tight" and
virtually eliminate his "sore strip"? Well we did it that way
because the "sore strip" is also the "sensitive strip." After
circumcision the inner foreskin, like the glans, callouses over and
loses much of its sensitivity; but it is still more sensitive than
the outer foreskin, and this greater sensitivity enhances coital
pleasure.
In short, the "high and tight" guy gets more pain, but also more
pleasure, than his "low and tight" brother. Bert's case was
difficult to call, but we finally decided that our top priority was
to cut off as much of his pleasure as we could, even if that meant
sparing him a bit of pain. You see, Bert was over fifty years old.
His sexual potency was on the wane and we wanted to push him towards
impotency. If he had been a vigorous twenty-year-old the decision
would have been different.
Incidentally, I find this whole debate confusing. The description
"high and tight" refers to the cock when it is in a flaccid
condition and its tip is pointing downward. Under those
circumstances the scar is indeed higher than the scar of the "low
and tight" man. But when the cocks are erect it is the other way
around.
There are a number of offences of a moral or sexual nature that
attract an automatic penalty cut. For example, a man gets it if he
is living with a woman out of wedlock, or if any of his children
were born out of wedlock. Then, if his partner is more than 4 years
younger than him, he takes a penalty cut for being a dirty old man.
For example, if he was born on, say, June 24 and his partner was
born on June 25 four years later, then, on his birthday, his age is
5 years more than the age of his partner. True, it is only like that
for 24 hours, but that is long enough to attract a penalty cut. I
suspect that, in this case, some men get it when they do not
qualify. For example, if a lady is not honest about her age, and
claims that she is younger than she really is, her man gets a
penalty cut on the basis of the information that she has given us!
She's the liar, but he's in the mire!
When I am performing a circumcision, the older the man, the more I
cut off. Anyone over fifty gets an automatic penalty cut, and I am
also pretty drastic with men in their forties and younger. This is
what I refer to as my "remission surcharge." After all, from a
physical point of view, a man of fifty has had the opportunity for
the best part of half a century of perfect sex; it is only right
that he should be made to pay for that exquisite pleasure with
interest. Oh, yes! If ever I am lucky enough to get a man like that
under my knife I give him good cause to regret the lost, exquisite
delights of yesteryear!
In our practice we have a number of ladies who are seriously obese;
the fattest of the lot, however, is called Pauline Skeate. Oh, my!
Pauline is a real wide load, and very plain to boot. She is the sort
of girl who just cannot fit into standard size airplane seats. So
fat is she, indeed, that it is a serious health concern, and she is
under my constant medical monitoring and care.
A short time ago Pauline's husband, Alan, came to me complaining
that he could not get an erection. "Well, mate," I thought to
myself, "If you're shagging Pauline no wonder you're not getting
overexcited." That, however, was not what I told him; the
difficulty, I said, was that he seemed to be suffering from
phimosis, or a tight foreskin. There was no guarantee that it would
work, I added, but one possibility was circumcision, and I advised
him to go away and think about it.
Now this was a try-on. I did not really think that Alan would get
back in touch for the sucker punch on that one, but, amazingly, he
did. If there was any chance that it might work, he said, he was
quite prepared to take the chop.
Well, this was a most interesting scenario. I suppose that we should
have considered sparing Alan from the knife. After all, do you
remember Judy's second condition before a man can be trimmed? It
goes: "If this man bonks his wife without his foreskin on, will he
get less pleasure than he is entitled to?" Now Pauline is so fat and
ugly that not even Judy, strict as she is, could have denied a
reprieve on those grounds.
But for Alan that question was not even posed, and there was never
any question of sparing his cock. He had opted for, nay, he had
actively requested the chop, and now he was going to take it. In any
case, Pauline was 49 years old, or a year too young for her man to
be spared. The chop was automatic; But what sort of chop should Alan
take?
Well, the answer to that one was quite clear; Alan was 5 years older
that Pauline, so he got an automatic penalty cut. We made no
concession, not even a millimetre, to the fact that his wife was
gargantuan and completely unattractive. Judy and I were enormously
amused and entertained by his case, and we grinned and giggled over
it for weeks. Rules were rules, we kept telling each other archly,
and justice demanded that they be fully and impartially implemented.
The only comfort for Alan was that when he came back about 6 months
later and complained that he was still impotent I did what I should
have done in the first place; I put him on Viagra, and that, he told
me, did the trick!
It was Judy who first started to call these very thorough, very
tight circumcisions "penalty cuts." The victims, she insists, must
take a "standard chop plus one centimetre." Now one centimetre may
not seem very much. Since the foreskin is folded back over on itself
it means that I only cut about 5 millimetres deeper than usual. But
you must remember that my usual cuts go very deep. Thus, this
"surcharge" as Judy also calls it really cuts them to the quick. It
pulls the skin on their erect cocks as tight as a drum skin. Any
over enthusiastic rubbing is likely to make the skin on the cock
shaft deliciously sore and raw. The victim may not notice it most of
the time, but, just when he is at the height of his sexual frolics,
you can bet that the extra tribute that he has paid will really make
him wince and grunt!
Let me give you an example. There is a 70-year-old farmer in our
practice called Bob Douglas. He is white haired now, but still lusty
for his age and sexually active. His wife is called Amanda. She is
12 years younger than him at 58. In her youth Amanda was a
professional ballet dancer with a company in Sydney. Today, despite
her mature years, she is still petite, elegant, poised and slim,
with a very shapely, well preserved figure, even though she has
given birth to four baby boys and three girls. Bob married Amanda 30
years ago, when he was 40 and she was 28. This marriage occurred in
Eubonga Springs shortly after I arrived as the local doctor, and it
annoyed me. Amanda was a close personal friend of mine. I myself
fancied her something rotten, and deeply resented Bob moving in on
her. "Damn!" I thought to myself, "I have lost out badly to that
dirty old bastard!" Over the years my intimate (but, unfortunately,
non-sexual) personal friendship with Amanda continued and indeed
deepened, and my resentment at losing her to the bluff farmer, if
anything, increased. At the beginning, I hated the thought of a much
older man taking advantage of her youth and innocence to get inside
her knickers. Then, over the next 30 years, I got more and more
infuriated as he kept getting into her knickers over and over again.
Worst of all, Amanda told me shortly after the marriage that her
husband was uncircumcised. "Oh, no!" I thought to myself in horror.
"So he has a full complement of sensitive foreskin and a delicate,
protected, purple coloured glans. Just think of all those exquisite
nerve endings, engorged blood vessels and responsive pleasure
receptors on his cock. Every scrap of lustful and sensual joy, every
iota of lascivious sexual pleasure is his for the taking, and from a
lady who is 12 years his junior! God! The dirty old sod just does
not deserve that much pleasure. When he gets Amanda into bed with
him, I bet he thinks that he's in Seventh Heaven!"
With such thoughts for 30 years I nursed my envy and spite. True,
the couple let me circumcise their four sons. This was satisfying,
but not the same thing at all as getting that old goat Bob Douglas
under my knife. Then, shortly after his 70th birthday, quite
unexpectedly, Bob came to me with a cock infection.
Well, the chance was too good to miss of course. I diplomatically
pointed out that the reason why his four sons had never had this
problem was because, unlike him, they were circumcised. Then I gave
him the fake cream to make the symptoms worse. When Bob called back
again the symptoms were indeed worse and I advised circumcision. Bob
refused the operation, claiming he was too old. "You are never too
old to be circumcised" I told him authoritatively, and gave him the
complementary ointment. That did it. Bob returned with an extremely
infected cock and requested me to cut it. That was on a Thursday. I
booked him in immediately to report to the clinic on the Friday
night.
The rest, as they say, is history. After Bob's first appointment I
had told Judy the full story about me, Bob and Amanda. I then asked
her to confirm the sentence, but, on 3 counts, this was a mere
formality. Firstly, Bob had refused surgery when it was first
advised, and had thus earned himself an automatic penalty cut as a
recalcitrant and insolent patient. Secondly, Bob was well over 4
years older than his spouse. Thirdly, Bob attracted a severe and
automatic remission surcharge; he had enjoyed 70 years of perfect
sexual bliss, all hot, sweaty and steamy, and now I intended to make
him pay for it with interest! While Bob was lying there, under
general anaesthetic, awaiting the chop, Judy and I made long, slow,
luxuriant love on a nearby bed. Lingeringly, we brought each other
to several intense orgasms as, in graphic physical and anatomical
detail, I talked Judy through the nature of my grievance against my
rival in love, and what I was going to do to him to get my own back.
Then we proceeded to the surgery. I took out my set of knives, and I
made my preparations. "Robert James Douglas," I announced grandly.
"You have been found guilty of thwarting and disrupting lesbian
passion, and worthy of punishment for that offence. I hereby
sentence your cock to mutilation by tight circumcision." Next, as
Judy grinned in amusement, I added archly, "Very tight. This hurts
me a lot less than it hurts you." Judy laughed out loud as I took my
trusty scalpel in my hand. Then I cut that old bastard's cock, and I
cut it hard. God, but I made him pay for all those nights of
exquisite, perfect pleasure. Oh yes! I gave Bob Douglas the
"standard chop plus one centimetre" all right! And the rest! Wow! I
skinned him alive! Bob was well skinned and well shafted. Oh, yes! I
can assure you that there was not much skin on his shaft when I had
finished with him! Then I performed some very pretty needlework
around the cut. By the time I had finished I had stitched Bob up
beautifully in more ways than one! Next, my pent up fury and spite
having at last abated after 30 long years, I carefully cleaned Bob's
chopper with surgical spirits. Finally, I lovingly and lingeringly
fingered a fungicidal cream (this time an effective one) into the
newly exposed cock head, and the adjacent regions. It was, however,
unnecessary for me to cream his frenulum for him, since I had
completely chopped it off! Finally, I took Bob's severed foreskin
and frenulum, sealed them up inside a jar of formaldehyde, and
labelled the jar with the date, and with the words "Bob Douglas."
Then, after we had both eyed up and exalted in my handiwork for
twenty minutes or so I took Judy back to bed to celebrate. Ouch!
Were my tits and vulva sore by the time we had finished!
Perhaps I should point out at this point that I inflict tight
circumcisions not only to punish the men, but also to chasten the
ladies, and to prepare them for the jousts of Sappho.
You must remember, dear reader, that I am a fierce and kinky old
lesbian. I hate heterosexual coupling. It may be necessary, but it
is also crude, vulgar and distasteful. Whenever and wherever it
occurs, the miscreants that indulge in it deserve to be punished.
When I tightly circumcise a newborn baby boy, I exult that I am
depriving not only him but also his women of their birthright. For
the lady, I refer to the penalty as "Sappho's retribution" or "the
vengeance of Lesbos." I resent it when a beautiful lady gives
herself to a man instead of sleeping with me, or, if that is
impractical, with other daughters of the Sapphic sorority. In my
view any woman who does that deserves to take the rap; and take the
rap she does, in more ways than one. On this I agree with Jill
Philpott that circumcised men tend to practice kinkier sex,
including flagellation. So the rap that ladies with circumcised
lovers take is sometimes the rap of a hand, slipper, hairbrush or
cane across their bare bums.
In addition, I do not want women to be satisfied with heterosexual
sex. I want them to desire something more, and to seek it in the
arms of myself, or, if I am not available, in the arms of one of my
Sapphic sisters. I like to think that, after my shrewd knife work, a
young man's fire hose is not long enough to quench the flames of
feminine passion, that its nozzle has been cut off, and that the jet
of extinguishing liquid can no longer be controlled or directed. Oh
yes! I like those young ladies to be fired with desire, burning with
lust, not only before heterosexual coupling, but also after it. Just
think! If men adequately satisfied ladies no lady would ever seek a
feminine lover. But fear not, daughters of Lesbos! The victims on
whom I have wielded _my_ blade are unlikely to be up to the task. To
a man, all 3,000 of them have chopped off foreskins, tight, denuded
shaft skins, frenulums that have been completely severed and
excavated, ugly circumcision scars and dry, keratised cock heads.
Just let them try to satisfy any real, live, healthy, lusty, sexy
lady with that equipment! They are doomed to failure, and their hot,
frustrated lovers, with their red, succulent cherries, are plump,
juicy, and just ripe for plucking and fucking by the votaresses of
Sappho.
Oh, my dear American readers, you have all got this one so, so
wrong! I download a lot of sexy stories from the Internet. Most of
what I read is girl on girl, but I also enjoy heterosexual tales.
Now such stories written by US authors are almost always very vague
and coy about exactly what is going on between cock and cunt.
British authors will lovingly describe beautiful, purple coloured
cock heads, the slow, leisurely rolling back of the foreskin down
the shaft to reveal the sensitive coral coloured plum beneath, etc.,
etc. But you rarely get such detailed descriptions by Americans, and
as a result the quality of their stories, even those of good
writers, suffers. And why is this so? The answer in my view is
obvious; most of the men folk in the USA have taken the chop.
Circumcision scars, denuded frenulums, cock skins pulled tight up
erect circumcised dicks: these, and other ugly phenomena, are what
US writers would be forced to describe if they wanted to be
accurate. No wonder that out of embarrassment and a desire not to
upset their readers they bottle out and fall silent.
There is also too much oral, anal, incestuous etc. in US stories,
far more than in stories from Europe. Hey, come on guys! Your
mutilation may make _you_ dissatisfied with straight sex, but lots
of men who enjoy the full experience are more than happy with it,
and have little interest in kinks and perversions.
Another feature of pornographic stories by US writers is the
emphasis on "lube." For Europeans the natural juices of the man and
the woman combine in beautiful lubricity; in contrast the
circumcised US male has a dry rasping cock that is likely to cause
discomfort and pain to his partner unless it is covered and smeared
with Vaseline or similar. Oh my dear American friends! Can you not
see that God made us, male and female, as perfect partners, and
that, if we are left as he made us, we can achieve perfect pleasure
without intrusive prophylactic aids?
The real truth, that US citizens are in full and embarrassed denial
of, was known and promulgated eight hundred years ago by a
remarkable rabbi living in France, Isaac ben Yediah. The quotation
is rather long, but please bear with me; it is well worth reading:
A man uncircumcised in the flesh desires to lie with a beautiful-
looking woman who speaks seductively to attract him. He vexes his
mind to be with her day after day, growing weary in his attempt to
fulfil his desire through lovemaking with her.
She too will court the man who is uncircumcised in the flesh and lie
against his breast with great passion, for he thrusts inside her a
long time because of his foreskin, which is a barrier against
ejaculation in intercourse. Thus she feels pleasure and reaches an
orgasm first. When an uncircumcised man sleeps with her, and then
resolves to return to his home, she brazenly grabs him, holding on
to his genitals and says to him, "Come back, make love to me." This
is because of the pleasure that she finds in intercourse with him,
from the sinews of his testicles -- sinews of iron -- and from his
ejaculation -- that of a horse which he shoots like an arrow into
her womb. They are united without separating, and he makes love
twice and three times in one night, yet the appetite is not filled.
And so he acts with her night after night. The sexual activity
emaciates him of his bodily fat, and afflicts his flesh, and he
devotes his brain entirely to women, an evil thing. His heart dies
within him; between her legs he sinks and falls. He is unable to see
the light of the King's face, because the eyes of the intellect are
plastered over by women so that they cannot now see light.
But when a circumcised man desires the beauty of a woman, and
cleaves to his wife, or to another woman comely in appearance, he
will find himself performing his task quickly, emitting his seed as
soon as he inserts his crown. If he lies with her once, he sleeps
satisfied, and will not know her again for another seven days. This
is the way a circumcised man acts time after time with the woman he
loves. He has an orgasm first; he does not hold back his strength.
As soon as he begins intercourse, he immediately comes to a climax.
She has no pleasure from him when she lies down or when she arises,
and it would be better for her if he had not known her and not drawn
near to her, for he arouses her passion to no avail, and she remains
in a state of desire for her husband, ashamed and confounded, while
the seed is still in her "reservoir." She does not have an orgasm
once a year except on rare occasions, because of the great heat and
the fire burning within her. Thus he who says, "I am the Lord's"
will not empty his brain because of his wife or the wife of his
friend. He will find grace and good favour; his heart will be strong
to seek out God. He will not fear to behold that which is beyond,
and when He speaks to him, he will not turn away.
Well, some of that might be rather overstated, but in general I
think that old Isaac got it right. A lady who marries a circumcised
man gets damaged goods; his cock probably works after a fashion, but
it is neither of merchantable quality nor particularly fit for
purpose. In theory, she would have a right to an exchange or a
refund under the consumer laws of most countries. Unfortunately,
however, she has often made a solemn and sacred religious contract,
and has taken her husband "for better or (as in this case) for
worse." So she has to take the loss, to grin and bear the "wham,
bam, thank you ma'am," the brief, shallow sex and the frustrated
passion. And meanwhile, us lesbians are laughing all the way to bed.
Not long ago I watched a television programme. It featured a guy who
claimed that he was married to no less than ten different women and
had given them all a total of more than thirty children. Well at
first I did not believe it; but no, later in the programme all ten
of his "wives" were brought onto the stage.
Well some of the ladies were past the first flush of youth; but to
an old lesbian like me they were all sexually desirable, most were
decidedly fruity, and three or four were gorgeous. Oh no, I thought,
that dirty old bastard must be having the time of his life with this
stunning little harem. I just wish that I had his cock under my
knife! I would make him pay for his lascivious pleasures!
Well that was not on the cards, of course; but the guy was some sort
of nutty Jewish rabbi who claimed that his sexual promiscuity was an
extension of his religious beliefs. So eight days after his birth
the dirty old bastard would have taken the fairly drastic version of
brit milah or ritual Jewish circumcision that was introduced in the
first century AD. Well, I thought, he deserves worse but at least
that is something. He has enjoyed none of these succulent and juicy
ladies perfectly and with his foreskin on. At least some of his
pleasure has been taken away; at least some of his ecstasy has been
snatched from him.
There is a point on which I sharply disagree with Jillian Philpott.
In one of her stories she refers to the battering that the female
vulva receives from a circumcised cock as "sharply pleasurable." No,
Jill! 'Fraid not! Wrong! The circumcised cock does not give the lady
a better screw; it gives her a worse one. On this interesting topic,
I endorse the view of Kristen O'Hara in her most interesting book
Sex As Nature Intended It. On the evidence I have read, Mrs O'Hara,
like old Isaac ben Yediah, is correct. The circumcised penis
compensates for its sensitivity deficit with rough, tough and much
longer strokes that are usually deeply unsatisfying, and even
painful, for the woman; and the woman does not experience the
pleasure of closely maintained contact between the male and female
pubic mounds. Well, if they sleep with a man instead of with me or
with another woman, all I can say is that it serves them right.
By the way, I also find Mrs O'Hara's solution amusing. She advocates
another operation to "restore" the man's foreskin. Well, I look
forward to doing that if ever I get the chance! I would willingly
make any man's cock throb and smart for a second time! Mrs O'Hara
claims that it improves the lady's pleasure, but I very much doubt
this. Certainly, for the man it is purely cosmetic. His foreskin,
frenulum and sensitive pleasure receptors have been cut off for
ever, and arranging the remaining skin so that it disguises that
fact makes no difference for him whatsoever. Even worse from the
man's point of view, foreskin "restitution" is a complicated and
problematic procedure, to the extent that some surgeons will not
perform it. (Yes, is that not amazing? They do the unthinkable. They
refuse a fat fee and lay down their scalpels!) The reason for this
is that foreskin restitution involves not one, but two operations.
Firstly, skin from the scrotum is grafted onto the base of the cock.
(Ouch!) Then skin from the base of the cock is moved up the shaft to
cover the cockhead. (Ouch again!) In any case, foreskin
"restitution" it ain't! The foreskin is gone forever, and will never
be restored. Foreskin "simulation" would be a better phrase.
But I digress. Let me return to the circumcision of old Bob Douglas.
I circumcised him hard partly to punish him, and partly to get my
own back on Amanda for marrying her husband and for spurning me as a
lover. I thought that I would make them both pay (belatedly, alas)
for their sins. Unfortunately for me, her husband's circumcision has
pepped up Amanda's love life. (See Amanda's Epilogue below.)
Amanda's experience, I am glad to say, is not typical, but it is
irksome. Even so, I can live with it. After all, Amanda's pussy must
be left exquisitely raw and sore after old Bob's stiff cock and his
tight, taut, immobile cock skin have given it yet another merciless
trip hammering. So Amanda as well as Bob is quite rightly being made
to pay what I jokingly refer to as the "heterosexual intercourse
tax." Much as I like her, in my view she still deserves to be
chastised.
The sexiest penalty cut that I have ever inflicted was upon a young
man called Bruce Foster. To understand this one you will need a
little background information. Soon after we started our love affair
Judy and I agreed that we had to conceal it. It was clear to both of
us that, before too long, a beautiful and unattached girl in her
early twenties such as Judy would attract public comment if she had
no man. I therefore advised her to be open to the inevitable
advances of young men, with a view, eventually, to marrying one of
them, settling down and having children.
Judy, whom I would describe as AC/DC rather than an out and out
lesbian, agreed with this, and started dating a variety of young
men. The one who eventually was to win her, however, was this Bruce
Foster. Bruce is about two years older than Judy, and a prosperous
cattle farmer.
Well, although Judy is now Bruce's fiancée, I can tell you that the
pair of them have a very feisty and spiky, not to say tempestuous,
relationship. Judy is a girl with a mind of her own. Bruce is the
tall, handsome, masterful type calculated to make weaker women swoon
and Judy hopping mad. The combination is explosive.
The problems between them started on their very first date. Bruce
took Judy to an all-night, midsummer ball organised by the Eubonga
Springs Young Farmers. Then, after the ball was over, he took her
back to his place. Judy was not drunk, but she was tipsy and merry
with wine. She allowed Bruce to take liberties with her and soon he
had got her into bed with him and expertly and comprehensively
robbed her of her maidenhead.
When Judy awoke the next morning she was incensed at the way that
Bruce had taken advantage of her, especially since it had been so
easy for him and it was at such an early stage of their
relationship. She immediately put her clothes on, stormed to her car
and drove off. "He has made a complete fool of me, Cathy," she told
me later. "He caught me with my knickers not only down but right
off. Then he really took me to the cleaners. I bet he is boasting
about it right now to all those drinking mates of his. And I bet he
has dumped me right into the pudding club. It was my most vulnerable
time of the month."
I noted with interest, however, that Judy refused my offer of a
"morning after" pill to prevent conception. I also observed with
satisfaction that Bruce seemed to make no mention of the incident to
his mates.
Judy's attitude to Bruce, however, changed over time. At first, she
hatched a plot with me to trick him into agreeing to be circumcised.
"He has taken my cherry," she said, "and he must be punished." I
sniggered lasciviously. "I thought that I had done that to you some
time ago," I said. "No," replied Judy. "It was Mr. Bruce Foster, and
I want him skinned alive for it. Or at least I want the bit of him
that offended skinned alive. By the time I have finished with him he
will never again ejaculate at anything much more than half cock."
The plan was simple. Judy was to go on the pill and continue to let
Bruce fuck her. When he did, however, Judy would use my ointment,
ostensibly as a lubricant, but really to encourage bacterial and
fungoid infections of Bruce's cock. To stop Judy getting infected I
was to give her a bacterial and fungicidal douche after every sex
session.
Well, the plan worked like a charm. Soon Bruce's cock was sore and
infected. The next time he got Judy into bed with him, she told him
that there would be no more nooky until the infection was cleared
up, and booked him in to for an appointment with me. Well, I gave
Bruce the standard fake cream treatment, which, as planned, made
things worse. Then I advocated circumcision, and he refused. Then I
gave him the fake ointment, which made things worse still. In the
meantime, I told Judy to try to persuade Bruce of the benefits of
the snip. This she did with great skill and effectiveness, and soon
Mr. Bruce Foster was booked into our clinic for the usual Friday
night chop.
By now, however, Judy was having second thoughts. She was indeed
ambivalent about chopping Bruce at all. "It was a dirty, wicked
trick that we pulled on him," she said. "I can't go through with it,
Cathy. I love him!" "That's as maybe," I replied. "But he must still
be punished for what he did to you. Good Lord, Judy. You dished out
a penalty cut to one young man just because his cock went a bit
stiff while he was chatting you up. You had him chopped hard, very
hard, and he had never even laid a finger on you. Yet this Mr. Bruce
bloody Foster gets you tipsy, takes you to bed, comprehensively robs
you of your cherry and then shags the arse off you! I promise you,
young lady. He is not going to get away with that! Besides, as your
jealous lesbian lover I cannot bear the thought of him enjoying you
perfectly. I want to be the only person in the whole world who ever
does that. So I am going to be spiteful and vindictive with him. He
will pay to the uttermost millimetre for enjoying the pleasures of
your bed. I'm a tight-arsed bitch, and he will soon be a tight-
cocked bastard! I'll make him pay for taking advantage of your
innocence and inexperience! I'll pull the skin on his erect cock
shaft as tight as a drum skin! Oh Yes! I'll make him wince and
grunt! My God, but he'll know about it when I've finished with him!
I'll give him something to remember me by and no mistake!"
Actually my objective in this diatribe was not just to attack Bruce.
It was also to rile Judy. She had been a little bit too ready, in my
view, to let Bruce deflower her, and then to allow him to bonk her
again. Worst of all, I had now found out to my horror that Judy
actually loved Bruce. I had no great objection to a marriage of
convenience during which I continued as her main lover. That had
been the plan, but that was not the way that it was panning out. As
it was, I looked set to be playing second fiddle, or even, perhaps,
no fiddle at all, to Mr. Bruce bloody Foster! I felt slighted and
betrayed, and if Judy had had a cock I would have wanted to
circumcise her as well, with a comprehensive penalty cut that was
just as punitive and severe as the one I had planned for Bruce. Oh,
yes! In my view, Mr. Bruce Foster was not the only one who deserved
to be chastised!
Well, on the night when Bruce was down to be cut, things got even
worse between Judy and me. In fact, we had a blazing row. First,
Judy did not want me to cut Bruce at all. Then she refused to
sentence him to a penalty cut.
"Well, he's bloody well getting a penalty cut" I shouted. "I am
over-riding you on this one, Judy. You are clearly too emotionally
involved to reach an impartial decision."
"Oh! And I suppose that you aren't, are you?" screamed back Judy.
"You're just a jealous, vicious and vindictive lesbian bitch who
wants to get back at her rival."
Well, this was just a little bit too close to the bone for comfort.
In fact, Judy had hit the nail right on the head. I was fuming!
Indeed, I was so hopping mad that I did something that I had never
done before. I pulled rank on her.
"Look!" I screamed. "I am the doctor here, and you are only the
bloody nurse. You're under my authority, young lady, while you are
working for this practice, and like it or not you will do exactly
what I bloody well say, or face the consequences!"
"Consequences?" yelled back Judy. "Consequences? And what the hell
might they be?"
I did not answer this question immediately. Instead, I walked up to
Judy and positioned my face about six inches away from hers. Then I
stared hard into her eyes. "Just bloody well try me!" I answered
menacingly.
To my slight surprise this negotiating ploy succeeded. There was a
lengthy, embarrassed silence. "Well?" I followed up. "What have you
got to say for yourself then?" Slowly Judy's face melted from
defiance to compliance. "OK," she said submissively. "You win. What
do you want me to do?"
I grinned with relief and satisfaction at this unexpected surrender.
"Well, first off" I said, "you can prepare and sterilise the
instruments and get me the surgical marker."
Judy obediently trotted off to do my will, and soon we were all
prepared for the surgery to commence. I took the surgical marker and
drew a line all around Bruce's cock shaft where I would have cut him
to perform a routine circumcision. Then I drew another line, 5
millimetres further down, where he would have taken the chop for a
penalty cut. Finally, I drew a third line, 2.5 millimetres below
that.
"Additional 50 per cent surcharge. Penalty cut plus a half of one
centimetre" I announced in an authoritative, matter of fact, ex
cathedra fashion that was intended to leave Judy in absolutely no
doubt that this was not a matter for democratic debate. Then I
paused to give Judy time to take my announcement on board. "Well?
What have you got to say about that then, Miss Interfering
Busybody?"
Judy looked in fascinated horror at where I had drawn the lines on
Bruce's cock. Then she winced and looked away. "Jeez, Cathy," she
said reproachfully. "That's a bit bloody harsh isn't it? You're
skinning the poor bastard alive!"
I gently cupped Judy's chin into my hands and turned her face
towards mine. Then I looked her steadily in the eyes. "He must be
punished for what he did to you, my beloved," I replied
dispassionately. Then, suddenly, I grinned broadly. "But don't
worry, darling" I said. "I won't spoil your love life. I'm leaving
him just enough skin to fulfil his marital duties, but not a
millimetre more. I promise you that his cock skin will be stretched
as tight as a drum skin up his erect shaft. Oh, yes! Mr. Bruce
bloody Foster will be giving you some very brisk and rasping shags!
Prepare yourself for lots of lively sex and for plenty of friction,
young lady! The course of your shaggings will never run smooth! You
won't be getting any slow, gentle, lazy, luxuriant fucks! When you
get fucked you'll know all about it! Your pussy will be taking some
hefty batterings I can tell you, and so will Brucie boy's cock! Oh,
yes! And another thing: lover boy will have to flex his haunches and
wriggle his bum with some vigour to bring his chopped and
desensitised manhood to orgasm. By the time he has finished his
emissions you will both be exquisitely raw and sore!"
Judy looked back into my eyes. Then, to my relief, her face slowly
creased into an impish grin. Then she gave a saucy little giggle.
"Wow!" she said. "You kinky, vindictive old she-cat! OK! You win!
Let him have it, Cathy! Chop the bastard, and chop him hard! Make
him live to regret and rue the day that he ever dared to trick and
deflower Miss Judy MacDonald of Eubonga Springs!"
Suddenly, I clasped Judy into a tight embrace and kissed her
passionately on the lips. "Attagirl!" I said, "Let's teach Mr. Bruce
bloody Foster a lesson he'll never forget!"
Next, on the spur of the moment, I did something that was as
unexpected to me as it was to Judy. I handed her my scalpel. Then I
grinned archly. "There you go," I said pertly. "You cut him!"
Judy was flabbergasted by this suggestion. She stared at me in
fascinated disbelief. "Go on" I said. "You have seen me do it enough
times. It's easy. Just make sure that you chop him to the hilt,
young lady, or, believe me, I will chop him even harder myself, and
then I will make you pay for your disobedience!"
"Cathy, I couldn't" replied Judy in confusion. "I just can't bring
myself to do it."
Faced with this revolt I decided to pull rank again. "Now look here,
young lady. I thought we had already agreed that I am the boss
around here! How dare you disobey me yet again! If I tell you to do
something you do it! And you don't bloody well argue! When I've
dealt with Brucie here I think that you and I had better have a
little chat to sort out your attitude problem once and for all! Now
are you going to do what you're bloody well told, or am I going to
have to punish you as well as Brucie boy?"
Judy looked away, disconcerted but resentful and rebellious. There
was a long and embarrassed silence. "Well!" I said. "What is your
answer?" Judy sighed deeply. Then she broke. Her face crumpled and
fell. Then she burst into tears.
Well, that was something that I was not expecting! I said nothing.
Instead I embraced her sympathetically. "I'm sorry," sobbed Judy,
"I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me Cathy. I'll do it. I'll do
whatever you say. But you will help me, won't you?"
Well, after she had composed herself, guided and advised by me, Judy
_did_ do it! And she did it very well, too. As instructed, she cut
Bruce right to the hilt. And then, going beyond her instructions,
she cut him just a sliver more. Not only did she not give Bruce a
millimetre. She also took a few more millimetres than she was asked
to and cut off just a wee bit more foreskin and shaft skin than was
required of her. And as for Bruce's exquisitely sensitive frenulum!
Well that was dead meat, every single sliver of it. Then Judy
stitched up the wound. When she had finished, I embraced her
passionately again, and gave her another kiss, full onto and into
the mouth. "Attagirl!" I repeated. "The bastard had that coming to
him. And don't you see that it _had_ to come from you? You've made
the punishment fit the crime. Cock offended pussy, and pussy made
him pay! Is that poetic justice, or what?"
I then stretched Bruce's foreskin and frenulum between two glass
plates and dropped them into a jar filled with formaldehyde. I then
sealed the jar, labelled it, and locked it in the safe. "This trophy
is mine!" I explained to Judy. "I shall take it out and gloat over
it when I am on my own in the early hours of the morning! I shall
envy Mr. Bruce Foster as I think of him making love to you. But at
least I shall know that he is not getting quite so much pleasure as
nature intended. He will never again enjoy you perfectly, as I have,
my darling! Instead, an important little piece of him will be with
me." And again I locked Judy into an ardent embrace and began
kissing her passionately on the lips.
"What do you mean" interjected Judy, in between our kisses. "What do
you mean when you say that you have enjoyed me? You still are
enjoying me, aren't you?"
"Judy," I replied. "You know that I love you. But this Bruce Foster
thing must bring big changes. We cannot carry on in the same way.
You cannot serve two lovers. It just wouldn't work. You have seen
the effect it has had on you tonight. For the first time ever in our
relationship, you have crossed me. And you have done it twice too.
You either have to be loyal to him or loyal to me, and I think you
have made your choice."
I turned away and started to cauterise my instruments and put them
away. Judy made no answer, and I presumed that she was pondering my
words. Then, behind me, I began to hear slow rhythmic sobbing. It
made me feel a complete bitch, but, even so, I decided to stay aloof
from my lover rather than rushing to embrace and comfort her.
"Oh, Cathy," sobbed Judy at last. "That isn't it at all. I wish I
had never met Mr. Bruce bloody Foster. You're the only one I want.
Give me the word and I'll send him packing tomorrow, him and his
tightly cropped cock. I'm so, so sorry that I crossed you. I promise
you that it will never, ever, happen again. You mentioned punishing
me as well as Bruce. Well, go on! Do it! Make me pay however you
like for crossing you, but please, please don't cast me away. I
couldn't bear it. I would die."
I was moved and very flattered, as any kinky old lesbian would be,
by this fervent profession of love from a stunningly beautiful young
girl. My lip was quivering, and tears welled up in my eyes. On the
other hand, I was not prepared to leave it there. The way that Judy
had thrown herself at Bruce with no thought for my emotions had
irked me. Contrite as she now appeared, I still wanted to punish
her, and to re-establish my authority over her once and for all.
"Judy," I replied. "You've hurt me, you know. I was certain that you
were kissing me off for your future husband. That was one reason why
I had him cut so hard. I wanted to get back at the bastard for
stealing you from me."
"Nobody will ever steal me from you, Cathy," Judy answered. "If I
hurt you, hurt me back. Punish me, Cathy, like you threatened to do.
Punish me physically in whatever way you like. But don't throw me
aside. Don't deny me your love."
I cupped Judy's face in my hands again, and gazed into her dark
brown eyes. Then my face melted into a slow, arch smile. "Yes," I
said. "Yes, I would like that. Now. Do exactly as I tell you young
lady, and, after I have finished with you, you can count yourself
forgiven."
Judy looked back at me, contrite and yielding. "Whatever it is,
boss, just say the word and I will do it. I promise you."
I smiled triumphantly. "Very well, young lady. In the broom cupboard
there is an old riding crop. Fetch it for me please."
I tried to keep calm while I uttered this order, but my heart was
pounding against my rib cage and my whole body was trembling. But I
need not have bothered. Judy silently and obediently went to obey my
command.
When I had the riding crop in my hands I opened a drawer in one of
the tables and took out an old scalpel. It was one that I had never
used for surgery. A previous incumbent of the practice had left it,
together with a number of other disused instruments. Using the
scalpel as a knife, I then cut off the leather at the thick end of
the riding crop. Next I peeled off the whole of the leather
covering, revealing a thin, supple glass fibre switch. I threw the
discarded leather into the waste bin and grasped the thicker end of
the switch in my hand. I was still very nervous and worried about
Judy's likely reactions.
Next I went up to the bed that Bruce was lying on and pulled him
down it by the ankles until his legs were splayed akimbo over both
side ends, and his newly chopped cock was about 18 to 24 inches from
the bottom of the bed. I then took a pillow and placed it over the
straight, low tubular steel bedstead at the bottom of the bed.
"Very well, Judy," I said. "Take off all your clothes please." I
felt a frisson of sexual excitement run down my spine as I gave
these salacious instructions. Mixed with that, however, was a tremor
of apprehension lest my lover refuse to perform my command. But I
need not have worried. Soon Judy was standing butt naked before me.
God, but she was lovely! What a brown skinned beauty she was with
her jet-black snatch of crinkly, wiry pubic hair, her shapely waist,
her trim midriff, her neat belly button, her long, meaty thighs, and
her pert, pneumatic breasts!
Suddenly two great truths hit me. Firstly, no matter how hard Bruce
Foster's cock had been cut he was getting the best end of the
bargain if he landed up with it inside my Judy! Despite my best
efforts the lucky bastard was still going to get infinitely more
pleasure and ecstasy than I wanted him to get, and than any man has
a right to on this side of Paradise! Sod it! Secondly, I concluded
that, after I had administered Judy's comeuppance, I would do my
best to make my peace with her and to continue our relationship for
as long as I could. It would be more difficult when she had two
lovers, but what the hell. How could I ever have threatened to break
my relationship with such an exquisite, gorgeous and irresistible
girl?
Then I jerked myself out of my reverie and back to reality. "Very
well, young lady" I said. Bend over that cushion with your face just
above Bruce's circumcised cock." Without a murmur of rebellion, Judy
again obeyed my command.
"Miss Judy MacDonald," I then said grandly. "You are being punished
on two counts. Firstly, you dissented and rebelled against legal
orders given to you by your employer. Secondly, you took up with
another lover without my full permission and involvement. Have you
anything to say in your own defence? Can you give me any good reason
why you should not be chastised?"
"No, boss," mumbled Judy contritely. "I'm sorry. I promise I won't
do it again."
"That's good," I answered, "although it does not prevent your
current punishment. Bruce was sentenced to one cut, across his bare
cock. You are sentenced to six cuts, across your bare bottom. You
will take three cuts from the riding switch for disobeying my
orders, and another three cuts for taking up a lover without my full
permission and involvement. That is three cuts on each of the two
counts, or a total of six of the best. Do you understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"As the cuts are administered you will gaze on Bruce's chopped cock,
and consider that if you had not been so rebellious it would not
have been chopped so hard. Not only was your rebellion ineffective,
young lady. It was also counter-productive. Come on! Let me hear it!
What was your rebellion?"
"Counter productive, boss."
"That's right! Now. After the first cut you are to say, `Thank you
for cut number 1, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have
cut number 2 now, please?' You will then count up the cuts in that
fashion until you have received the full six. You will then say,
`Thank you for my 6 cuts, boss. They sting, but I deserved them. May
I get up now?' You will then await further instructions. Do I make
myself clear?"
"Yes, b.." Swish, CRACK!!!
Before Judy could get out her reply I gave her bare bottom its first
free gift. Wow, but did I let her have it! For the last few minutes,
the more contrite that Judy had been, the more incensed it had made
me about her previous stroppiness. Judy was a beautiful girl, and it
seemed a crime, almost, to mar the flawless perfection of her
buttocks with six ugly and (albeit only temporarily) disfiguring
weals. But, on the other hand, my lover needed to be taken in hand.
She had stepped out of line and she needed to be slapped back into
it good and hard. As that switch came down, I was very, very angry
with Judy. Her present tears and apologies were all very well, but
she still needed to be taught a short, sharp, painful lesson so that
she would never, ever, dare to cross me again. "Yes, my girl!" I
thought to myself. "Now I will get even with you! I'll make you
sting, wince and shudder! You are sorry for what you have done now.
But by the time that I have finished with you, you will be far, far
sorrier! Take that!"
CRACK!!!
"Aaaaagh!"
Wow! That first cut was a real sizzler! Judy was clearly shocked at
the force of the blow, and as the cane bit into her bum she let out
an involuntary scream of pain. Then, over the next 4 seconds or so,
as the cut began to sting and smart, she started to let out a series
of low, urgent grunts, "Ngh! Ngh! Ngh!" Then, "Oh, boss! That
stings! That really, really stings!" I could well believe my lover's
words, for gazing down at her upturned derrière I observed a deep,
livid cut across the dark, dusky meat of her two buttocks. However,
she got no sympathy from me. "Come on," I said brusquely. "Get on
with it. You have been told what to say."
Judy composed herself for a short while, and then: "Thank you for
cut number 1, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have cut
number 2 now, please?"
Swish, CRACK!!! Judy's bare arse took it again, and wow, was I a
mean and spiteful bitch to her! I was still raging and fuming
against my lover, and, in my venom and spite, I brought down the
thin, whippy fibreglass cane right into the furrow that I had
already cut across her bottom; and I brought it down as hard as I
could. It divided the atmosphere with a fearsome audible swish and
then, thin as it was, hit home with a sharp, pistol-like crack.
CRACK!!!
It was with this second cut that I broke her. Judy had taken her
first cut bravely, but this additional indentation, laid exactly on
top of the previous one, was too much. The tingling and stinging,
incrementally added to that from cut number 1, must have felt
unbearable. Judy screamed like a banshee, emitting a loud, high-
pitched, agonised yell fit to awaken the dead.
"Ayyiiiii!" Then, over the next few seconds, as she felt the full
effects of my handiwork, Judy broke into uncontrollable sobs.
"Please, boss," she howled piteously. "Please! No more, I beg you,
no more! It is more than I can bear! Mercy! I beg you, mercy!"
I gave Judy time to compose herself, and then I prompted her for the
response. It took 3 or 4 minutes before she could get it out: "Thank
you for cut number 2, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I
have cut number 3 now, please?"
PHHHTTT!!! CRACK!!!
Yes Judy, you can. Take that! Unfortunately for Judy, I was still
in kinky dominatrix bitch mode, and I brought down the third cut,
again as hard as I could, onto exactly the same piece of her arse.
There was now a dark red aggravated weal across the brown meat of
Judy's buttocks, already beginning to turn blue black. Then this
third cut fell into exactly the same indentation. It was too much
for any super-heroine to endure. Judy gave another agonised yell and
then, to my considerable satisfaction, she rose from the bed,
straightened up, and began vigorously massaging her freshly caned
buttocks. The single aggravated weal that I had incised into her
flesh with my first 3 cuts was insufferably raw and sore, and it was
clear, from Judy's pained facial expressions, that the mere act of
rudely rubbing it was, in itself, very painful. But the throbbing
was so insufferable that, for Judy, it was clearly the lesser of 2
evils.
"OK," I conceded. "Time out. You can have 10 minutes to compose
yourself." During this respite, I explained to Judy that the 3 cuts
that she had received thus far were for her insolence and
insubordination. The next 3 would be for taking up a lover without
my full permission and involvement. I explained that this was a very
serious rap. It had hurt me and I was deeply offended. So she was
going to catch it just as hard for this second half of her
punishment as for the first half. However, to afford her some small
relief, it was now a different part of her bum, lower down towards
her legs, that was about to catch it; I intended, I said, to bring
down the cane just above her thighs, right across the back of her
hairy cunt slot, where the buttock meat was at its plumpest and most
tender. "That, Judy, is the part of your arse that sinned against me
by allowing the unauthorised entrance of a male cock," I explained,
"So that is where the retribution will be inflicted. Cunt meat
offended, and cunt meat will be punished for it. Right. Over the bed
again, please!"
When I had Judy in the caning position again I decided to spice up
this second part of her chastisement with some kinky verbals.
"Position your face right over Bruce's cock," I commanded. "Now.
Tell me what has been done to it." "It's been circumcised, boss.
Very tightly." "Describe it to me." "Well, the cock head is bare. It
is still purple, but soon it will callous over to a pink colour."
"Just answer the questions. Don't play the prophet. Now, what has
happened to the foreskin?" "It has been completely cut off, boss."
"And what is there instead?" "An annular cut or incision about 5
inches long, all around the cock shaft, boss. It is very bloody at
the moment, and has surgical stitches all around it to hold the skin
in place." "Good. And what will happen to that cut?" It will become
a permanent, visible annular scar, boss." "Good. And what about the
frenulum, the deliciously sensitive triangular flap of stringy,
twangy membrane that joins the foreskin to the underneath of the
cockhead? Go on. Take the cock in your hands, inspect it closely and
give me your report." "There is no frenulum, boss. It has been
completely cut off." "And what is there instead?" "There is a cut
along the bottom of the cock shaft, boss, that stretches to the v-
shaped dimple on the underneath of the cock head." "And how is the
cut skin held in place. Lift the cock up again, look at it, and tell
me." "There are a row of surgical stitches along the bottom of the
cock shaft, boss."
Right, I thought, that just about deals with the details of the
surgery. Now let us ram the message home.
"Why has this cock been cut, Judy?"
"For entering forbidden cunt, boss."
"Did it deserve to take the chop?"
"Yes, boss."
"What about the cunt that it entered? Should that be punished too
for entertaining forbidden cock?"
"Yes, boss."
"This cock has been scarred and mutilated for life for its sins.
What does the offending cunt meat deserve?"
And so on. I think you must get the picture. Anyway, I got Judy to
accept, by a long series of leading questions, that she thoroughly
deserved to take 3 cuts from the fibreglass rod across the back of
her cunt; indeed, I forced her to admit that, in comparison with
what Bruce's cock had taken, her cunt meat was getting off lightly.
"Right, Judy," I concluded, "Say your piece about your last cut, and
then let's get on with it."
Now Judy really did not want to take 3 more slashes from that
vicious cutting, whippy cane, and she answered very slowly and
hesitantly. But at last she got it out: "Thank you for cut number 3,
boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have cut number 4 now,
please?"
Before I administered the 4th cut, however, I took my opportunity to
admire the fetching view that presented itself to me of Judy's
shapely derrière and pussy slot. Her leg muscles and tendons were
beautifully tense and taut; on the top insides of her dusky, shapely
thighs, where they met her dark, inviting vulva, there were two
delicate, rippling concave hollows. Then, between these hollows, the
cunt slot pouted slightly open to reveal a thin, vertical line of
delicate, serrated coral pink pussy flesh on the inner edges of her
outer labia. I lustfully drank in the view; it excited me, but it
also made me very angry. I thought of Bruce bloody Foster ramming
his stiff uncircumcised cock between those two delicate concave
hollows, and between those moist, coral pink lips, and the thought
got me mad. "So! You would play away, would you, madam?" I thought
to myself. "And I bet you enjoyed it as well! But now it is payback
time. Yes, I will cool your courage and enforce virtuous, well-
governed and ladylike abstemiousness on your hot, passionate nature!
Remember, if you shag men, you do it with my permission and
involvement, and you do with decorum and control, not with delirious
and ecstatic abandon. As a reminder not to enjoy cocks too much,
take that!"
PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!
Yet again the cane whistled through the air as I brought it down
again, as hard as I could. Judy's cunt meat just above the tops of
her thighs shuddered and wobbled deliciously as the cane bit into
it, and her pussy hairs twitched at the force of the blow. I waited
for a few seconds, and then I noted with grim satisfaction that
another deep furrow had been cut into the plump, nubile bum flesh of
both bare buttocks.
"Aaggggghhhh!" yelled Judy with great vigour and gusto. Then, "Oh!
Oh!! Oh!!! OH!!!" she cried out helplessly. Then, "Oh, please, boss!
No more! Please, please stop!"
I waited for a minute or so, for Judy to regain her composure, and
to give me the chance to eye up her caned rump.
Then, "Look at Bruce's cock," I instructed my victim. "Do you think
that your cunt meat has been punished as severely as that?"
Silence.
"Well, come on, young lady! Answer me or I will make you very, very
sorry for yourself."
"No, boss."
"What was that? Louder!"
"No, boss, it hasn't."
"Right, well let's even up the score a bit shall we? Go on, say your
piece."
Again, it took Judy a long time to do it, but eventually she got the
words out: "Thank you for cut number 4, boss. It stings, but I
deserve it. Could I have cut number 5 now, please?"
PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!
This was another beauty, and, again, I placed it right into the
wicked red-blue indentation made by cut number 4. Its effect was
similar to cut number 2. Judy had taken the 4th cut reasonably well,
but to get another one like that in exactly the same place was
almost insufferable. It took a few seconds for her to fully feel the
full impact, but when she did she emitted a violent, high-pitched
scream, "Aaaggghhhh!" Then, for a second time, she started sobbing
uncontrollably, and begging me for mercy in the most urgent and
pitiful fashion.
Well, by now my anger against my paramour was pretty well vented and
I was beginning to feel sorry for her. My pride would not allow me
to curtail her punishment, but I tried to give her some help.
"O.K., Judy," I said, not unsympathetically. "Take another time
out." Judy lifted her head up from Bruce's cut cock, and rose from
the bed. Then she started to massage her stinging pussy meat, at
first vigorously, and then, when she had eased the initial sharp
stinging and throbbing, she continued rubbing, but more ruefully and
gingerly. It took a few minutes, but at last she stopped her
helpless sobbing, and brought herself under control.
As for me, I was no longer taking much delight in this kinky sport.
By now the lady that I loved was in genuine distress, and I did not
really want to hurt her any more. I had to inflict the 6th cut as a
matter of integrity and principle, and I had to inflict it hard; but
I tried to make Judy's ordeal as bearable as I could.
"Come on, love," I said in a kindly and concerned tone. "Let's get
this over with and then let's go to bed."
"O.K., boss," replied Judy, and she sounded brave and resolute. Soon
she was over the bed again, and chanting the mantra: "Thank you for
cut number 5, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have cut
number 6 now, please?"
PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!
Oh, yes! I let Judy have it as hard as before, that is, as hard as I
could. There was absolutely no mercy, no respite from cut number 6.
It was every bit as fierce as the others, and, yet again, it fell
into the single aggravated weal just above the thighs that had been
inflicted by cuts 4 and 5.
Judy yelled piteously at the sharp initial impact, and then, as the
pain escalated over the next few seconds, she took up again her
loud, helpless sobbing. At the same time, she rose from over the bed
and hopped around on both feet, vigorously rubbing her cunt meat in
her efforts to dissipate the horrendous sting in her tail. I must
admit, she looked quite comical, and I permitted myself a wry smile
at her vigorous, cavorting, clown-like antics.
"O.K., love," I said, when the worst of the initial stinging had
been massaged away. "Bend over and narrate the final response,
there's a good girl, and then it will all be over."
I reminded Judy of the wording, and, prompted by me, she bent over
the bed again and contritely repeated the necessary: "Thank you for
my 6 cuts, boss. They sting, but I deserved them. May I get up now?"
"Yes, Judy, you may. And then I want you to turn and to face me."
Judy did as she was told. She stood there at the end of Bruce's bed,
naked and ravishing. "Right," I said, "Now I want you to thank me
again for the discipline that I have justifiably inflicted upon
you."
"Thank you, boss," replied Judy demurely. Then, of her own accord,
she added, "I richly deserved it, and I had it coming to me. Please
punish me again whenever I need it. It will do me good, and I
promise that I will always submit to it."
Well, after all that I had put Judy through, I found this profession
very moving, and tears welled up behind my eyeballs.
"Now," I said, "Next I want you to kiss me." Judy, her eyes shining
and her face now radiant, came up to me and gave me one of the most
gentle, tender and romantic French kisses that I have ever enjoyed.
In that kiss were love, respect and surrender to my will. After it I
knew that, whether Judy married Bruce or not, there would always be
a place for me in her heart and in her bed.
"Come on," I said gently. "Let's go to bed and celebrate."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Epilogue by Amanda
Since Cathy wrote this story there have been developments in our
relationship. For 2 or 3 years I had suspected, and hoped, that we
might be more than merely friends. Then during one of our afternoon
tea drinking sessions I raised it with her. Well, it took several
afternoons, and many pots of tea, for us to talk through our
feelings for each other, but talk them through we did and at the end
of it all I knew a lot of things that I should have realised 30
years ago.
This is not the time or place to explain how my relationship with
Cathy is deepening, or how Judy fits into the picture. I would like
to write it up some day, but, for the moment, the ball is still in
spin.
When I read Cathy's story, and when I learnt why she had
unnecessarily circumcised my 4 sons, and how and why she had tricked
my husband Bob into letting her circumcise him, I was appalled and
fascinated in more or less equal measure. After all, there are 5 men
in my life and, thanks to Cathy, they do not have a foreskin between
them. The lady has wreaked penile havoc among the men folk of the
Douglas family. To make matters worse, she is pleased and proud of
what she has done, and openly teases me about it. "As for the
Douglas males," she will joke, "I have not amputated their
foreskins." Then she will pause before administering her punch line:
"I have amputated their five skins! _Chop!_ _Chop!_ _Chop!_
_Chop!_ And here is a very tight one for you, Bob ..._Chop!!!_"
Ouch! That gag can always be relied upon to make me wince! In short,
I do not know whether I like what Cathy has done, or, if I do not
like it, whether I can ever fully forgive her for it.
Anyway, all this, in the words of the Bard, is from the present. My
current purpose is to give you an account of the aftermath of my
husband's circumcision.
It took Bob over nine weeks to fully recover from the pain and shock
of his surgery, and for the first few days after his operation he
was exquisitely raw and sore, and very, very grumpy. As for me, I
was stunned by what Cathy had done to him. I found my husband's
newly trimmed wick and completely bald, desensitised cock head
fascinating, and I could not wait to try them out.
In contrast, Bob disliked his new chopper, with its cut off
foreskin, its long ugly scar and its cornified knob, once a rich
purple but now the same pink colour as the rest of his cock skin. At
first I tried to cajole and comfort him, but when that did not work,
I started to tease him. The first time that I did this was while we
were in bed and making love, and I got a shock. Bob became very
angry, but also very sexually excited. Muttering heatedly about his
mutilation, he put his stiff circumcised cock into my vulva and gave
me one of the sharpest shaggings I had had for years.
Well, since then, after I found out the dramatic effect that it has
on him, I have never let Bob wriggle off the hook. When I get him
into bed with me for a fuck, I torment him mercilessly about how he
has been "cut to size," "brought into line with the other males of
the family," "skinned alive" and so on. Oh, yes! I really stir him
up. The result is that, despite its advanced age and its
desensitising and disfiguring mutilation, Bob's cock goes as stiff
as a poker. Next Bob bangs my vulva very, very hard! As part of my
developing relationship with Cathy I give her full and regular
reports on Bob's performances in bed, and I tell her that I am
eternally grateful to her for what she has done to spice up my sex
life.
Indeed, she has done more than that. As Bob has got older and his
sexual potency has waned she has plied him with Viagra to pep up his
pecker; she says that she dislikes the extra pleasure that this
gives him, but she just loves the extra pain and discomfort that it
delivers to the deliciously tight, taut, immobile cock skin on his
erect chopper!
I can vouch that, as she has boasted, Cathy has done a very thorough
job on poor old Bob's cock. When it is flaccid there is just about
enough skin to stretch and fit over it. But when it becomes engorged
the skin is pulled very taut; in short, it is a very tight squeeze
for it to cover and encase the stiffened shaft, which can only just
be crammed into its denuded housing.
I also give Cathy regular reports (which she thoroughly enjoys) from
the bedroom. In particular, I divulge the most intimate details of
how I bait and heckle Bob. I get a real sexual buzz from teasing
him, and from talking about it to Cathy, a lady with whom I have
long had an intimate friendship, and towards whom I have developed a
strong sexual attraction. Here is the gist of one of my typical
teasing sessions, as recently reported to Cathy:
You, Bob Douglas, were getting lazy and complacent, and you needed a
short sharp shock to jolt you out of it. Your pleasures were just a
little bit too generous, free, luxurious and lascivious. They needed
to be trimmed, tightened and brought under stricter control. Your
fun and games needed to be licensed and rationed. A sparser
allocation was required. You were acting as if anarchic, abandoned
and ecstatic bliss was your birthright rather than something that
was under my discretion and which I graciously condescended to grant
you as a privilege. Well, now your lusts and desires have been
checked, disciplined and brought under control, and you will be a
more virtuous and a better-governed gentleman as a result of it.
As you can readily imagine, dear reader, 20 minutes or so of this
sort of persiflage gets my husband going nicely. Then, when he is
cursing, muttering and raging in anger and frustration, and his cock
is rock hard, I really let him have it:
Ah diddums! Did naughty Auntie Cathy chop his poor little willie for
him? I bet he can't get a hard on now, can he, the pathetic old
bastard? Here, let's hold his willie against hairy pussy and find
out. There he goes. In between the lips of love. But is he up to it?
Does he think he's hard enough? I bet he isn't. I bet he's just a
floppy pussy himself now. Go on, get out of there. You're not man
enough any more. You've got no edge, no poke. Auntie Cathy has
cooled your courage for you. She's cut you to size and brought you
to your pipe and slippers, and no mistake. She's taught you a lesson
you'll never forget!
Meanwhile, during this diatribe, the very opposite of what I claim
is happening is going on. Bob is trip-hammering my pussy mercilessly
with his big, circumcised, but still very active mutton dagger.
This year, for my birthday, Cathy gave me an extra little present.
It was the glass jar of formaldehyde containing Bob's foreskin and
frenulum. I was surprised and moved by the gift since I knew that
for Cathy the jar was a highly prized possession. She expressed a
wish that I would use this jar to tease and torment Bob on every
possible occasion, and that, indeed, is exactly what I do. Bob's
severed foreskin and frenulum are constantly on display on the
cabinet on my side of the bed except on the numerous occasions when
I pick them up and brandish them in Bob's face with mockery and
derision. Well! As you can imagine this droll raillery has added
more than a little extra sharpness and edge to my teasing, and it
has also added more than a little extra stiffness and poke to Bob's
copulatory powers!
When Bob reached 70 years of age I was expecting our sexual liaisons
to become more sporadic. I also accept what Cathy says: from a
purely physical point of view, circumcision does make the cock less
sensitive and sex more difficult for old men. But there is more to
sex than the physical; and from a psychological viewpoint Cathy's
saucy snipping has considerably pepped up our sex life. For a boring
old married couple aged 70 and 58 to still enjoy regular bonks is a
great thing; and thanks to Cathy I have hopes that the bonking will
continue for a few more years yet!