{ASSTR 25} _A Piece of His Cock_ _or_ _Punished for Ogling_
{Big Billie} (F/M, dominatix, sex, spank, circ, cock mutilation.)


_Author's Note_: Big Billie is opposed to circumcision and to genital
mutilation. This is a work of fiction and fantasy; do not attempt
this, or any other, sort of genital mutilation on yourself or others.


_Part 1: Warts, a Cock Scar, Stitch Tunnels and Skin Flaps_

A while ago I had a fairly large wart on the left side of my stomach. So
I decided to experiment. I got some thin, strong twine, tied it around
the base of the wart as near to my body as I could get it and then
tightened and knotted the twine as tightly as I could.

Well, the plan worked. There was no great pain except for a small
pinching sensation for a day or two; and then, cut off from the blood
supply of my body, the wart came away during my early morning
shower a few days later, leaving a wound the size of a pinhead that
soon calloused over and healed.

On my left should blade I had another, more elongated wart. This time
I could not reach it so my wife did the necessary. She pinched the
wart between a pair of tweezers, handed the teasers to me and told
me to keep them clamped tightly and to pull the wart away from my
body. She then tightened and knotted some twine around this wart, as
I had previously done around the first wart, and we got the same
result.

When I was a baby I was tightly and very messily circumcised. I was
left with a thick, jagged, uneven, untidy and ugly circumcision scar all
round my cock, replete with scarified tissue, stitch tunnels and
unsightly skin flaps.

One day I threaded a needle with my thin, strong twine and pushed it
through one of my stitch tunnels, blunt, eyed-end first to avoid
pricking myself. I then removed the twine from the needle and tied
and knotted it as tightly as I could. The stitch tunnel was only a few
millimeters long, but even so there was quite a bit of skin tied
together. Nevertheless, there was no serious pain and in about a
week, with the flow of blood stopped, the skin separated, the twine
came away, and the stitch tunnel was converted into a stitch valley
running between two small pyramidal lumps of skin which had been
formed by the pulling together of stitch tunnel flesh.

Good, I thought. Never again will I have to squeeze dirt and pus out of
that particular hole in my cock. Pleased with what I had done I
repeated the procedure on my other stitch tunnel and the outcome
was similar. Hey, I thought to myself, after the way I was sliced  up
the first time a surgeon took a knife to my cock I am not letting the
medical profession anywhere near my wedding tackle; but this seems
to be a cheap and cheerful alternative to expensive cosmetic surgery.

I got rid of three ugly skin flaps in the same way. This time too I
pulled them away from my cock with the tweezers and my wife tied
the twine around them as tightly, and as close to the cock shaft, as
she could. Yet again, in about a week, the skin flaps came away.


Well, victory, I thought. It was a bit rough hewn but at least my cock
was rather less ugly than it had been before; and there was no
significant discomfort – I was even able to enjoy a bit of sexual hanky-
panky with my wife while the twine was attached.


_Part 2: Madam, My Strict Wife_

My wife's name is Rachel, but I am required to address her at all times
as Madam. She is youthful (more than 11 years younger than me), tall
and elegant, with beautiful, finely chiseled features. Before we
married, men swarmed after this stunning, drop dead gorgeous lady
like bees around a honey pot, and she still has any number of male
admirers who would take her from me if they could.

Madam was an only child. Her rich father spoilt her rotten, and her
mother danced attendance on her. She grew up proud, willful,
haughty, and stridently insistent on her rights and on her own way.

I am of much lower social origins than Madam, and at first I had no
idea why she picked me out for marriage in preference to loads of
suitors who were younger, richer, more handsome and more eligible in
every way.

I have a shrewd idea now, though. My wife is a strict, self-confident
dominatrix. She wanted a husband who was pliant and obedient to her
will, and that's me, folks. I am dazzled by my wife's beauty. I am her
slave and she can twist me around her little finger. If she so much as
vaguely hints that she might leave me I will do anything to placate her
anger and displeasure.

Sexually my wife keeps me on a very tight rein. Intercourse is strictly
controlled and occurs entirely at her pleasure and discretion. "Yes,"
she will say. "You have been a good boy today. You may have your
wicked way with me later."

Then, when I do get my "wicked way," Madam teases and torments
me beyond endurance. She will surrender her charms grudgingly, a
little at a time, all the while telling me what a beast I am and how I
don't deserve her. If I am forward or over-eager she will slap my face
and tell me contemptuously that I am a dirty swine and that I am
getting nothing more from her until I learn to control my lusts.

But Madam is capricious, and sometimes she unexpectedly relents;
she grudgingly concedes the contest, protesting all the time that I am
an animal and that later she will punish me for my filthy depravity.

And madam does punish me too, usually with a well smacked bottom
as described below. She also rejoices in the fact that I am tightly and
messily circumcised. Her _ex cathedra_ judgment on this is that I
deserve the snip for my filthy and lascivious urges. In her view, the
mutilation was not sufficiently drastic and I was not adequately
punished. Thus Madam thoroughly enjoyed the tying of my stitch
tunnels and the twining off of my skin flaps, and she made the most of
her opportunities to tie up and remove little pieces of legitimate cock
skin at the same time as she removed the skin flaps. But she
considered that to be only the beginning and argued that Justice called
for a far more drastic mutilation.


_Part 3: A Nubile Demoiselle Ogled_

Soon after this amateur cock surgery Madam and I went on holiday to
the south of France. One day, as we lay on the beach, a young French
girl, beautiful as only young French girls can be, ran up the beach and
past us to buy doughnuts and drinks from a vending stall. We knew
who she was. She was Cecile, lodging at the same hotel as we were
with her mother and father. We also knew that she was just sixteen
years old.

Oh wow! What is it about teenaged girls that so turns on us older
men? Why does scarcely legal and illegal jail bait feature so
prominently on Internet porn sites?

Well, if you had seen Cecile as I saw her on that summer day you
would know the answers to those questions. Like most girls on
France's Mediterranean beaches she was topless. Indeed, all she was
wearing was a virtually invisible black thong and nothing else. As she
ran past us her firm, pert breasts and the large pink areolas of her
luscious nipples jiggled, wobbled and danced provocatively. Her trim
waist was adorned with a large jewel hanging and swinging from her
pierced belly button. I could also clearly see the two little fleshy
hollows where the taut nubile tendons of her quivering inner thighs
rose to meet the gusset of her thong; and I observed tufts of black
pussy hair blatantly protruding from each side of the thong gusset. My
excited cock stiffened involuntarily in my thin, tight swimming trunks
and Madam noticed the tumescence.

Then, having made her purchases, Cecile ran back down the beach,
the cheeks of her bare bottom rippling and quivering just as
temptingly as her breasts had done a short while before. My cock got
even harder and again Madam took due note.

She got up and sat astride me as I lay on my back on the sand. Then,
with her flattened left hand, hard and with real venom onto my right
cheek:

Slap!!!

(Short pause to give it time to tingle.)

Slap!!!

"That's for the tits!"

Then, with her flattened right hand, hard and with real venom onto
my left cheek:

Slap!!!

(Short pause to give it time to tingle.)

Slap!!!

"And that's for the arse-–one for each cheek!"

Then, while I was still in a state of shock:

"That's just for openers. Just wait until I get you back in the hotel
room. Then I'll really sting and tingle your cheeks for you; and I don't
mean the cheeks of your face!"

Part 4: Strapped and Caned.

When we arrived back at our room Madam was fuming. She angrily
flounced over to our suitcase and took out the tawse, the cane, a
bottle of linseed oil and the twine. She reserved the last item for use
later and took the other three in hand.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered, and soon I was standing naked
before her. "Here," she said, "Oil the strap and the rattan and then
stand in the corner with your face to the wall until I get back.

My wife then left our lodgings.

Madam takes the tawse and the cane everywhere we go so that she
can punish me at will. The tawse is a fearsome strap, split into two
tails at the end. In days of yore similar tawses were used to punish
naughty Scottish school children. They were usually applied across the
hands but the tawse is also deadly effective as a bottom smacker. The
thin, whippy rattan cane is not firm enough for use as a walking stick;
it has been developed solely for purposes of corporal punishment,
almost always across the bottom.

I took the linseed oil and its applicator and carefully oiled the tawse
and the cane to make them nice and supple for my forthcoming
punishment. Then, as instructed, I stood in the corner of the room
with my face to the wall. I remained there, naked and humiliated, for
fully 50 minutes, until Madam condescended to return to our room and
commence operations.

She took the tawse in her right hand.

"Stand there and bend over!"

Then, before I had time to comply:

Slap!!!

The tawse bit into the bare meat of my backside with a sharp crack.

"Come on. You know the drill. Legs straight, fingers on toes.

Slap!!!

"And quick about it!"

Slap!!! Slap!!!! Slap!!!!

"Come on! Are you taking the piss? You are beginning to annoy me!"

And so it went on, with a series of between fifteen and twenty
gratuitous slaps across my bare arse until I succeeded in bending over
to Madam's satisfaction.

Next my punishment began in earnest.

First Madam confirmed the first part of my chastisement: "A dozen
with the strap."

Then she gave them to me, as hard as she could, at intervals of about
four seconds so that just as I felt the escalating tingling from one slap
the next one hit me. It really stung and tingled and on three separate
occasions I was forced to rise to my feet and cavort around the room
like a naked chump, frantically rubbing at my naked arse. But every
time that I did that Madam discounted the previous slap thus adding
an extra three wallops to the total. Then she stood me in the corner
again, this time with my hands on my head to stop me from rubbing
my arse, and left me there for a further fifty minutes.

Then came the second part of my chastisement, the caning, and
Madam again pronounced the sentence: "Six with the rattan."

Then she let me have them, again at four second intervals, as hard as
she could lay them on, bunching them as closely as she could across
those parts of the buttocks between my bum hole and my bollock bag.
Again I couldn't take it with equanimity. I howled plenty and twice I
was forced to rise, yet again clutching and rubbing my beleaguered
arse meat. For that I got two extra strokes. By the time Madam had
finished with me there were eight livid cuts welted into the fleshy
meat of my bum; they were tightly bunched, overlapping, and already
starting to turn blue.

Then it was hands on head in the corner again for another 50 minutes.

"Stay in position," instructed Madam, "I haven't finished with you yet."


_Part 5: Cock Punishment_


At long last madam returned to me and told me to face her.

Slap!!!

The flat of Madam's right hand again cracked against my left cheek.

Slap!!!

Then the right cheek got the same treatment from her left hand.

"You dirty old man!" she fumed. "You've got a wife well over a decade
younger than you are, yet still you cannot keep your vile, filthy lusts
under control. You mouth salivates and your cock stiffens at every
scantily clad bimbo within range. And God only knows what foul and
perverted thoughts run through you polluted mind, like turds through
a sewer pipe. I've strapped you and I've caned you for it time and
time again until my arm aches, and it has all had no effect at all. Well,
my boy, now I'm going to take you in hand. I'll curb your lusts for you
and enforce virtuous and well-governed behaviour. Come here!"

Well, even by Madam's standards she was coming on a bit strong, so
it was with apprehension that I approached her.

My wife then pushed her left forefinger underneath the base of my
cock, lifted it up, and pinched a large patch of my frenulum between
her right thumb and forefinger.

"Now," she said, "Place _your_ right thumb and forefinger between
mine and you cock shaft and squeeze hard."

I obediently complied with this order, and found that I had a big thick
wodge of sensitive cock skin in my grasp.

"Next, pull your cock skin forward, away from your cock shaft. Harder!
Go on, really tug at it! Right! Now don't move a muscle. Hold it still,
exactly like that!"

Then, without another word, Madam took the thin, strong twine and
looped it around my frenulum and right against the cock shaft. She
tied a knot in the twine, pulled the loop as tight as she could, and
secured it with a second knot on top of the first one. Then she looped
the twine around my cock skin again, and again tied it up as tight as
she could. Then she did the same thing a third time, and then a fourth
time. And each time she managed to get the twine just a little bit
closer to m cock shaft so that it enclosed a bit more of my frenulum.

"If this twine comes off your cock before I take it off, our marriage is
over."

This time the twine really cut into my skin and, unlike when madam
tied up the skin flaps on my cock, it really hurt.

Now I have studied JPEG images of circumcised cocks on the Internet
and I have noticed that a lot of you guys in the US (probably a
majority) do not have any frenulum at all since it was completely
excavated when your cocks received their routine neonatal chop; and
in many other cases cut cocks in the US have only a vestigial
frenulum.

This was not the case with me, however. The lower part of my
frenulum had been chopped off, but from my circumcision scar to the
dimpled ridge on the underside of my glans I had quite a luxuriant
frenulum, replete with sensitive, nerve enriched fleshy folds. My
circumcision may have been tight, drastic and messy, but at least I
had that consolation, and my frenulum was my pride and joy. "But not
for much longer," I thought. And I ruefully contemplated its
forthcoming removal as I continued to wince at the savage, pitiless
bite of the twine. What worried me even more, though, was Madam's 
threat that if I removed the twine she would leave me. She was a
cruel, spiteful dominatrix, but the more she abused me the more I
loved her. Well, those of you that have read "Venus in Furs" will know
what I mean.

Unlike when my skin flaps were removed nothing much happened to
my trapped cock skin for quite a while. Three times Madam tightly
encircled and entrapped it with yet more twine on the grounds that
the previous twine might be working loose.

Eventually, after more than a month of constant agony for me, it
became clear that my frenulum, deprived of a flow of blood, was
dying. Even then, however, the skin would not come away like my
warts and my skin flaps had done. So in the end Madam resorted to
direct action.

The good news was that she condescended to use a local anesthetic to
ease my discomfort. Soon my frenulum and the area around the twine
on my cock had been smeared with a topical pain-killing cream. Then
madam took a pack of cheap assorted razor cutters that she had
bought from our local Pound Shop. She removed the see- through
plastic packaging bubble from around the smallest razor cutter, took
the razor in her hand, pushed out the blade from its plastic casing
and, gently scratching, chipping and cutting at my cock skin on the
outer side of the twine, she teased off my frenulum, pulled away the
twine, and dropped the severed skin into a small phial of
formaldehyde, where it joined the three skin flaps and their adjoining
skin that she had cut off from my cock earlier. Oh wow! That razor
cutter was only a few centimeters long. But when wielded by a
dominatrix of genius it had more than enough evil intent and cutting
power to chop off my frenulum and to rob my cock of its sexual
birthright!

Madam, with a wicked gleam in her eye, then gently scratched and
tickled at the back of my scrotum where it joined my crotch and
started to talk dirty.

"You dirty, disgusting old man," she fumed, shaking the phial of
formaldehyde in front of my nose with the hand that was not tickling
my balls. "You can't curb your foul, filthy lust, can you? That little
bimbo Cecile really turns you on doesn't she. Just think of her pert,
bouncing, nubile titties! Wouldn't you just love to cup them, naked,
into the palms of your hard, horny old hands? Wouldn't you just love
to get your fingers under the gusset of her tight black thong and
between her plump, hairy pussy lips? Wouldn't you just love to get her
naked in bed with you at midnight and let nature take its course? Well
just watch it, my boy! I'll tighten your lusts and luxuries for you! I've
had your frenulum. Next time I'll take your balls!" And so on.

Meanwhile I had been deprived of sex for so long, and I was so over-
excited by my wife's kinky verbals, and by her vivid evocation of the
bodily charms of the delectable teenaged temptress Cecile, that my
cock was soon as stiff as a poker. At which point Madam removed her
hand from my bollock bag, flattened it, and used it to slap me very
smartly across the face. "Filth! Filth! Filth! Filth! Filth! Filth!"
And every time she said "Filth!" she slapped my face for me. Then she
took up the tawse, bent me over, and gave me six of the best across
my bare arse.

It was only as I thought things through after Madam had put me in
the corner with my hands on my head that I realized why she had
stiffened my cock for me. She wanted to make the skin on my erect
shaft as tight as a drum skin so that the wound on my cock would be
pulled open and enlarged. When I inspected my wedding tackle later I
ruefully noted that there was a large, bloody, uneven, circular wound
on the underside of my cock shaft that looked like an enormous burst
blister with the blistered skin cut away from it. This hole in my cock
skin was almost as big as a British two pence piece and its bottom
outer edge met my circumcision scar forming an uneven circle touched
by a tangent line.


_Part 6: Paying the Price_

Over the course of the next few weeks the skin grew back over the
large circular patch of wounded skin on the underside of my cock. But,
alas, what remained of my frenulum after my neonatal circumcision
was now gone for ever; in place of the delicious little patch of stringy,
twangy, nerve enriched, delightfully sensitive inner membrane of
frenulum there was now a jagged white patch of thin, insensitive scar
tissue. Now, when my cock is erect, the flesh is pulled as tight as a
drum skin up its stiffened shaft; indeed, it is pulled even tighter than
it was before. It is uncomfortable, painful even, especially when it is
subjected to the sharp, rasping, in-out friction of sexual intercourse.
My keratinized glans still retains some sensitivity, but only a fraction
of what it would have felt if it had not calloused over as a result of my
neonatal chop. And I doubt that the large disc of scar tissue where my
frenulum should be gives me any extra pleasure at all. My wife is still
exquisitely beautiful, and I love it when I am allowed a sexual coupling
with her. But alas that I ever ogled the nubile and delectable Cecile!
For that peccadillo Madam has inflicted a strict, everlasting
punishment; I feel it, and it makes me wince, every time I go into her.


Please email any comments, criticisms, suggestions, etc., to:

bigbillie1302@yahoo.co.uk