{ASSTR 09 r06} Jillie Chopcock, Circumciser from Hell {Big
Billie} (circ F/MMM, spank M/F)


Jillie Chopcock, Circumciser from Hell

By Big Billie

© Big Billie 2003 and 2004. 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.

  The weekly download logs are currently showing my
circumcision stories scoring more hits than those about
spanking, and this Jillie Chopcock story is often the most
visited on the site. I would welcome your views on this.

  The story is about a spiteful and vindictive female
circumciser. I find it sexually stimulating to write about her,
but please note that her attitude to circumcision is the
opposite of mine.

  The early parts of this story can be skipped if required.
They give an analysis of some of the basic facts about
circumcision from the point of view of the (anti?) heroine, a
character who is sexually turned on by it, and who enjoys
performing the surgery. The medical facts, however, are
accurate to the best of my knowledge, and I hope that readers
find them enlightening and educational.

  Remember that my two main motives in writing this story 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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  When my best friend, Maggie Phillips, asked me to circumcise
her husband as a punishment for his adultery it had a profound
effect on my life. There was I, Miss Jillian Hayes, in my early
twenties, a trainee surgeon who had never before operated on a
man's tool. I will never forget that lunchtime in the pub when
Maggie first broached the subject.

  I have always been stimulated by piercings (especially of
belly buttons and of female labia), as well as by brandings and
tattoos. I also like tribal scars on the faces of black guys.
But male circumcision really turns me on because the scar is in
a much more intimate, embarrassing and amusing place. On
balance, I think, it is safest and best if as many men as
possible get their cocks chopped at birth. Chop while the cock
holder is too young to protest is my rule. An advantage of this
is that the cock of a neonate is so small that it is
impossible, under normal surgical conditions, to do a precise
job. It is very easy, for example, even if you are not trying
to, to chop off a lot more than the medical textbooks
recommend. This is particularly likely if, like many
circumcisers, you are not trained as a surgeon. Moreover, the
resulting scar, as it grows bigger, tends to become ugly,
pitted and pockmarked. Frequently there are one or more holes
in the scar, little "stitch tunnels" and flaps of skin folded
in on themselves, or else hanging loose, along it. In the
stitch tunnels blackheads form, and they have to be
periodically squeezed out, to the pain, annoyance and
embarrassment of the victim. This is very frustrating, since
the circumcised man knows that these holes will soon fill up
again, as they have always done in the past, and that he will
then have to make his scar sore again with yet further
squeezing.

  But the problem with infant circumcision is that what you
have never had you never miss. Even better, therefore, is it
for men to escape the surgeon's knife as babies and then for it
to be inflicted upon them later. My favourite age for chopping
is during the teenage years, in puberty. I like to wait until
the banana is just fully-grown and developed, all plump and
meaty. I like the victim to have tasted the exquisite delights
of his foreskin in masturbation. Then, when he is at the peak
of his physical potency, when he is ripe for intercourse and
eyeing up young ladies with lascivious eyes, I like to take the
skin from his banana and expose the fruit's delicate and
sensitive flesh. Given the chance I chop away his foreskin
while he is a 16 to 18-year-old virgin, and cut it off from the
ultimate pleasure.

  There are, however, different preferences here. My friend
Maggie, for example, likes the victim to have had a few shags
before he gets chopped. She prefers him to taste the ultimate
pleasure a few times so that he knows exactly what he is
missing. She says this makes the loss even more infuriatingly
poignant for him, and cites the case of her husband, Jim, in
support of her thesis. I must admit that she has a talking
point.

  Another interesting talking point is whether a man with a
small cock should be circumcised as severely as a man with a
big cock. Now this is an interesting one. My view is yes, just
as severely, in fact more so. After all, the smaller cock
already gets an advantage. Less is cut off in any case purely
because there is less there to be cut. That, in my view, is
benefit enough, and no extra bonus should be given. In fact, I
go much further than that; to echo the Bible, from him who has
not I take away even that which he has - and then a bit more.
In the part of England that I come from there is an old
expression, “to clown on.” It means, roughly, “to bully
(usually a smaller, weaker, frailer or more vulnerable child)
in a slapstick comedy manner.” Well, I can tell you that when I
get a pathetically small cock under my knife I “clown on” it
something rotten. “You were not much of a man to start with,” I
will tell the anaesthetised victim after I have trimmed him
tight, “and now you are scarcely a man at all!”

  I have a number of reasons for my enthusiastic support for
circumcising men. For one thing, they are all beasts and they
deserve it for what they do to us. And even if they do not do
anything at all, they deserve it for what they think about us.
They deserve it for their insolent fantasies and impudent
imaginings when, in their lewd and filthy minds, they ponder on
us as sex objects and not as human beings. Yes, even if we are
married to them, they should treat us with more respect than
that, and they should be punished if they do not. For that, and
that alone, they deserve to have their cocks chopped, and
chopped hard: every teenaged boy who leers at a teenaged girl
in a bikini; every married man who admires a lady who is not
his wife; and every dirty old man who lusts after any lady at
all, including his wife. Off with their foreskins! Cane their
cocks! Chop them back hard and short - _very_ short! Make them
pay for their randiness by chopping the hoods off their hooded
pleasure pythons!

  Oh, yes, you teenaged boy! Oh, yes, you dirty old man! I know
you, the pair of you, what you are! I have seen you both on
summer beaches eyeing up scantily clad ladies with lascivious
eyes! I have observed your furrowed brows and your licked lips
as you lustfully and lingeringly cogitate on the respective
merits of a hipster thong and a high-rise bikini! You think
that thought is free, that your filthy fantasies are none of my
business. Well, my youth! Well, my man! If ever I get the
chance I will _make_ them my business, and I will punish you
severely for them. Chop! Permanent mutilation of the cock is
what _you_ deserve, and it is what you will take if I ever get
the chance to inflict it!

  But even if it was not me who cut you (alas!), if you _are_
cut I still have hopes to make your cock sore and raw. I want
to develop into a good and effective writer of sexy stories and
pornography. My main and biggest market is the United States of
America, where there are almost 300 million citizens, or 5
times as many people as live in my own homeland, the United
Kingdom. So beware, US ladies! I aim to moisten your vulvas and
stiffen your clitorises! I am trying to stir you up, and I want
to incite you, to stimulate your cunt meat to throbbing,
gushing orgasm! As for you, gentlemen of the USA! My ambition
is to titillate you and to excite your cocks to bone hard
erection! Come on, you US male, reading this now! Is it turning
you on? Are you nice and stiff? Then go on! Tug at your cock!
Bring yourself off! Stimulate yourself to orgasm, and I hope
that you ejaculate so hard that you spatter the ceiling with
your spunk! But beware! As the Bard’s Hamlet put it, “there’s
the rub”! A large majority of you US males are circumcised, and
every time that you have dirty and lascivious fantasies during
masturbation, every time that you tug at your cocks during your
lewd and filthy imaginings, you make yourselves sore and raw in
a very sexy, very amusing and very intimate place. And the more
you tug and the more excited you get, the more sore and raw you
make yourselves. Oh, yes, my American friends! Not for you the
“up and over” of the long, sensitive foreskin as it slides past
the end of the responsive, unkeratinised purple cock head. For
you there is only the “tug, ouch”! O.K. Perhaps I am not yet
that good a writer. But, if I cannot do it, there will be
plenty of other fantasies to make you raw and sore!

  As for sexual intercourse, you US males, we ladies are
beautiful. Many US ladies are stunning, and among the most
beautiful ladies in the world; you are very lucky to have such
ladies at your disposal, but you do not deserve to taste, enjoy
and luxuriate in them perfectly. There is not one of you good
enough to be granted that exquisite privilege, even though,
unfortunately, some of you are uncircumcised and get it. Your
circumcised cocks have had about 15 square inches of sensitive,
nerve-enriched foreskin hacked off them that would otherwise be
pleasurably sliding up and down your cock shaft during
intercourse. Now 15 square inches is a lot of skin. In surface
area it is roughly the same size as a man's palm. I well
remember the fate of Nicholas in Chaucer’s ‘Miller’s Tale.’ He
was branded on the bare bum with a red-hot coulter. “Off flew
the skin,” writes the poet, “a handbreadth about.” Well, that
is what happened to your cocks at circumcision, and your cocks
are a lot smaller, a lot less meaty, and a lot less able to
take it than Nicholas’s bum. And at least Nicholas might
reasonably have expected the skin to grow back over his branded
arse, whereas the US victims of circumcision can have no such
hopes for their denuded and exposed cock heads.

  Then, after circumcision, the prick tip becomes cornified and
desensitised. The purple coloured glans, beautifully moist and
intensely sensitive while covered and protected by the
foreskin, becomes pink, dry, calloused over and less able to
enjoy itself after it has been circumcised. This means that
circumcised men have to work a lot harder if they want to get
themselves excited. Not for them the slow, leisurely,
delectably lazy sliding of the uncircumcised foreskin up and
down the lady's cunt. The circumcised man has to wriggle his
bum and flex his haunches with some vigour to get a hard on for
his chopped and desensitised member, thereby giving the cunt a
brisk, vigorous and (for the lady) sharply pleasurable rubbing.
But the extra work that the man has to do, and the fact that
the skin is pulled tighter over his engorged shaft, helps to
chafe the circumcised cock and make it raw and sore. Thus, the
circumcised man sweats and strains to work his desensitised
cock towards orgasm. It frustrates him, makes him smart, and
reduces his pleasure. What a hoot!

  For the fact is that a circumcised man has less control over
his orgasms. He cannot hover on the brink of ecstasy for hours
on end by gently rubbing his delicate purple glans and his
deliciously sensitive inner foreskin up and down his lady’s
love tunnel, and then pausing for protracted periods in joyful
anticipation of future bliss before he explodes. The
uncircumcised man can linger at the gate of Nirvana until his
pleasure becomes unbearably intense and he is forced to enter
in violent delight. In contrast, the circumcised lover has a
dick that is keratinised and desensitised; for most of his
life, but especially as he gets older, it is either up or down,
stiff or soft. It is either ready to shoot, or it is not
cocked, on the wane, and subsiding; and, if his cock is primed
to shoot, he had better fire it off, or he will miss his chance
and go all floppy again. Oh wow! When I ponder on exactly what
it is that I have done to the men that I have circumcised, on
what I have robbed them of, and on the incomparable ecstasies,
pleasures and delights from which I have so cruelly and
abruptly cut them off, I am aghast and amazed that I am allowed
to do it, and that I get away with it unchecked.

  I see circumcision as a simple once and for all way of
forcing men to pay a sex tax, at the point of pleasure, for the
rest of their lives. Even better, unlike with the Inland
Revenue, evasion and avoidance are quite impossible. The tax
for a shag is a sore and less pleasured cock, and that tax is
strictly and sharply enforced. It is paid to the full 100 per
cent of the time. Better still, it is paid to the full not only
when the victim shags a lady but every time that he has the
effrontery to even think about it in a masturbatory fantasy.
Or, if you like, circumcision is like having a fixed penalty
parking ticket slapped onto your windscreen. Whack! The
offender does not like it, but he has to pay the fine. Even
better, unlike with a parking ticket, he pays it for so much as
thinking about parking illegally, and he has to go on paying it
time after time! Mother Nature is a niggard, but in this case
she generously provides an intensely sensitive and pleasurable
fold of cock skin for man's pure enjoyment and delight. What
could be a sexier wind-up than to spitefully chop this off?
Serves the bastards right!
      
  Besides, I suppose that I am a bit of a prude really. I have
some sympathy with the puritanical Victorian idea that sex is
dirty. Without doubt, the foreskin and the cock-head that it
covers are dirty. Underneath the encasing sheath of the
foreskin, the dirty, smelly white creamy substance, smegma,
builds up. Drops of urine are also harboured there; and the
mind boggles at what the prick-tip acquires during sexual
intercourse, such as dribbles of semen and of smelly ladies’
vagina juice. Disgusting! Foreskinned sex may be wild,
abandoned, ecstatic and enjoyable; but it is also dirty, filthy
and depraved, and we must do our very best to stop it and to
wipe it from the face of the earth! It is true that tightly
circumcised sex is also dirty, but it is still a lot cleaner
that the alternative. It is blander and more hygienic. It has
been sanitised, disinfected, and sterilised. The quantity of
filthy enjoyment and depraved pleasure is sharply cut and
reduced, and the victim is a cleaner, purer, more moral, more
upstanding and more virtuous gentleman as a result of it. If,
in addition, he is less interested in sex that is an added
bonus. After all, we cannot have him continually pestering and
annoying ladies in his attempts to secure sexual favours.

  Oh, yes! Those Victorians were very shrewd prudes and far
from naive on the subject of sex. They knew precisely how to
curb pleasure and how to increase pain. They wanted to prevent,
or at least to reduce, masturbation, or self-abuse as they
called it, and wow, were they effective! They knew exactly what
to cut, where to cut and how to cut, and they left their
victims very denuded and very tight in a certain place.
"There,” you can imagine them saying to themselves as they laid
down their scalpels. “Take that! That’s trimmed down _your_
pleasure, young man! That’s curbed _your_ lust for you!” One
good Victorian example is A.E. Housman, the English poet and
author of “A Shropshire Lad.” He and his brother were both
circumcised when Housman was 16 years old. I suspect that the
pair of them had been caught masturbating or getting up to some
other form of sexual hanky-panky together (Housman, remember,
was a homosexual), and that in consequence their father
summarily slapped them both down with a painful and effective
punishment. I bet he had them both circumcised very tightly,
too, and told the surgeon to teach them a good lesson by well
chopping off their frenulums for them. After all, if a punitive
circumcision is to be effective it has to make a difference and
it has to punish; if you have gone to the trouble of hiring a
surgeon, why not make sure that you get your money's worth out
of him?  This interpretation is endorsed by a biography of
Housman that I once read; it quoted a letter written by one of
his sisters on the incident. She said that the victims were
loudly bemoaning their fate and feeling very sorry for
themselves. In her opinion their father was correct to get them
snipped, but he should have thought of it when they were
younger. I may have been imagining it but I noted in her words
a tone of detached amusement, and I got the distinct impression
that she regarded the incident as saucy, risqué and funny,
particularly since the victims were pubescent boys rather than
neonates.

(Incidentally, another shrewd Victorian idea was the
development of the cane as a disciplinary implement in schools.
The traditional tool had been the birch, but this was only
effective if applied “on the bare” in a fashion that was, by
the mid-nineteenth century, increasingly considered indecent.
In contrast, the cane could be applied over clothing and still
inflict very considerable pain.)

  But I digress. Let me return to the topic of old men.
According to the World Health Organisation (WHO) we are young
from when we are born until our 45th birthday. Then we become
middle aged from 45 to 59. Finally, on our 60th birthday we
become old. Now all men have an ample amount of time for sexual
intercourse before they arrive at old age. By the time they are
60 they should have fathered all of their children. They should
also have satiated their passions for ladies, and be in a state
of “calm of mind, all passion spent.” But are they? No, these
days they frequently are not. A little continuing hanky-panky
with their ageing wives is, perhaps, tolerable. But far too
many old men go much, much, further than that; and, when they
do, no lady is safe. Dirty old bastards into their sixties,
seventies and older frequently regard a middle aged lady as a
nubile and desirable wench, and they will pester and importune
her in their attempts to secure sexual favours. But this, dear
reader, has got to be stopped! As I have said, apart from
familiar, relaxed and anodyne shags with his wife every old man
of 60 plus must be prevented from entering ladies, especially
younger ladies, in the Biblical sense. Oh yes! We have to stop
the filthy old sods from being so rude and lascivious, and
bring them to their pipes and slippers.

  This is where circumcision comes in; one of the most
beautiful features of a nice tight cut around the cock is that
it carries through into old age. Even uncircumcised old men
find that, as their sexual prowess wanes, it is more and more
difficult to get a hard on and to enter a lady. Tightly
circumcised old men, with no sensitive foreskin, a denuded
frenulum, and no delicate, tender, purple cock head to
stimulate them, frequently find that their attempts at
intercourse are sterile, fruitless and barren. Tee hee! They
can no longer trespass against ladies, and they certainly
cannot trespass into them! How frustrating for them! They
cannot get it up, and it serves the filthy old bastards right!
The USA has a greater number of circumcised old men than any
other nation ever, in the whole of history. No wonder that it
is the Viagra capital of the world. All that we need to do now
is to get Viagra and other drugs than enhance sexual
performance banned on the grounds that they are unsafe, and we
will have stitched up the dirty old perverts beautifully.

  Let me explain to you dear reader, what, in a reference to
the oldest god of Greek mythology, I call "the vengeance of
Chronos." Most primitive societies, such, for example, as used
to exist in the Old Testament, were male gerontocracies. The
old men ruled, and they used their wealth, status and power to
secure for themselves young brides and the pleasure of sleeping
with youthful ladies. The same, however, is not true of
advanced modern democracies. In the USA, for example, old men,
as they get older, increasingly lack sexual access to nubile
females; and, naturally enough, they dislike this and harbour a
deep resentment, spite and envy towards young men. In the Old
Testament King David and King Solomon, in their latter years,
both had large harems and numerous gorgeous young girls at
their sexual disposal, even when they were too old to take
advantage:

Now King David was old and stricken in years; and they covered
him with clothes, but he gat no heat. Wherefore his servants
said unto him, Let there be sought for my lord the king a young
virgin: and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish
him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may
get heat. So they sought for a fair damsel throughout all the
coasts of Israel, and found Abishag a Shunammite, and brought
her to the king. And the damsel was very fair, and cherished
the king, and ministered to him: but the king knew her not (1
Kings: 1-4).

 In contrast the old men of today seldom have such
opportunities. For example, imagine this scenario. A rich,
powerful dirty old man watches a neighbour's daughter as she
grows and develops from a little girl, into a pubescent
teenager, and finally into a stunningly beautiful and sexy
young woman; and, men being men, he fantasises over her, and
masturbates wildly. Then, despite all of his wealth, power and
influence, he is forced to look on helplessly as some upstart
young stud marries the object of his lusts and fantasies. Now,
what thoughts will go through that dirty old man's mind on the
night of the wedding? He would probably be prepared to
surrender all of his wealth and all of his power to change
places with the young bridegroom. But, unfortunately for him,
that is not on the agenda; so, instead, he aches with envy,
frustration and resentment. But hey! What if the dirty old man
is a medic who, twenty years or so ago, inflicted a tight
routine infant circumcision on his rival? As the cock cutter
lies frustrated on his bed during the night of the honeymoon,
will he repent of his surgery and regret that he did it? Will
he hell! He will rejoice and triumph that his rival, for all
his youth and potency, is not enjoying his nubile, exquisite
and succulent bride perfectly, and as Mother Nature intended.
O.K. It is a "dog-in-the-manger" type of revenge, but it still
must be a very sweet one, and the old man's winces of
exasperation will be accompanied by smiles of smug satisfaction
and wicked glee.  Circumcision is a mutilation inflicted upon
the young by their elders; it is partly driven by the surgeons'
personal sexual agendas, and envy and spite are major motives. 
Imagine, for example, the thoughts going through the mind of a
surgeon during his mid-life crisis as he wields his knife on
the foreskins of neonates; imagine the same surgeon's thoughts
as his victims become sexually active and he grins lasciviously
at their severed foreskins and their lost pleasure.
     
  But I have written enough of old men. I like my men to be
young, not old, all fresh-faced, beefcake and naked. Indeed, I
prefer them totally naked; and in my view no man is completely
nude and exposed unless he has been tightly circumcised. To put
it another way, I am turned on by the loss of privacy which
circumcision brings. Even when an uncircumcised man is butt
naked, you still cannot see the most intimate, sexy and
interesting bit of his cock. It is hidden and encased in a
double thick swathe of foreskin. He still has some mystery,
some dignity and some self-respect left. The glans or cock
head, the bit that we ladies are most interested in and that we
most want to see, remains unrevealed. If he wants to overexcite
us, of course, an uncut man can always pull his foreskin back
over his purple cock head. But that choice is his. The
circumcised man has no such discretion. Whether he likes it or
not, his pink prick tip is constantly and embarrassingly
displayed to the female gaze. And so different is the
appearance of his cock from that of his uncircumcised fellow
that it is bound to draw forth ribald and hilarious comments.

  Oh, yes! Those 15 square inches of missing foreskin make a
big visual difference! Sometimes circumcision is referred to as
a "little snip." To the victim this is most offensive. It is a
cheap and unworthy jibe. It unfairly, unheedingly and
insouciantly dismisses something that, for him, is a most
important and serious matter. Such jocular and facetious quips
are completely inaccurate and quite uncalled for. (On the other
hand, they are very amusing, very saucy and very sexy!)

  I think that in the UK we are more amused by circumcision
than you are in the US; in your country it is the norm, whereas
here it is now quite rare.

  This was not always the case, especially for the middle and
upper classes. Historically, surveys in the UK told a
consistent story. Public schoolboys were far more likely to be
circumcised than the riffraff. Those toffs may have had blue
blood, but they did not usually have blue cock heads! They may
have canoodled with and married those charming, classy, sexy
middle and upper class ladies; but they rarely enjoyed them
with a full set of wedding tackle! Meanwhile the working
classes were, in most cases, bonking their lower class wives
with everything Mother Nature had given them! Wow! How is that
for proletarian justice, for Karl Marx’s revenge! Wealth and
comfort to the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie; perfect sexual
pleasure to the workers! Which destiny, I wonder, would you
choose, dear reader?

  In the UK things are now changing; these days there are far
fewer neonatal circumcisions, even for the upper classes. For
example, our leading UK toff and heir to the throne, Prince
Charles, was circumcised by a rabbi as a baby; but the
foreskins of his two sons, William and Harry, were spared,
rumour has it because of the intervention of their mother,
Diana, the “People’s Princess” and Prince Charles’s first, and
now deceased, wife. 

  These days, therefore, a cut man, or at least a young cut
man, on this side of the pond, whatever his social class,
stands out from the crowd, and is liable to face the singling
out and ridicule that is often aimed at the person who is
different. We have a natural inclination to laugh, or, if we
are polite, to feel a fierce secret joy, at the misfortunes of
others; and in the UK these days most people consider
circumcision misfortunate.

  In England, we often feel the same way about people who get
parking tickets. I remember an anecdote of my granny’s on this
one. As a teenager in the 1950s, just after the fixed penalty
parking regulations came into force, she got stung with a
ticket, and in very embarrassing circumstances. She was an
Oxford undergraduate, and she had taken on a temporary office
job in central London for the summer vacation. During her lunch
hour she saw, from her second floor window, a female traffic
warden writing out a ticket for her in the street, and she ran
down to remonstrate with her. Well, the warden was a right
vindictive old battle-axe and she clearly enjoyed her work. She
gave granny a long sententious lecture on the need to obey the
law, and on how her punishment was richly deserved. Then she
triumphantly handed the ticket to her and biffed off.

  Now when fixed penalty parking tickets were first introduced
into the UK the fine was two pounds (GBP2). That is nothing
today, but then it was a swingeing mulct, especially in those
far less prosperous days, and for an impoverished student like
granny. In those days a pint of beer in a pub cost, in modern
money, about 7 or 8 pence as opposed to the 200 to 250 pence
that it might cost these days. Granny’s job earned her about 14
modern pence an hour, so her punishment was not like the one-
hour detention of a schoolgirl. She would have to work for
nearly 15 hours, or the best part of two days, to clear that
ticket.

  Naturally enough, granny told me, she was very upset, and
returned to the office visibly shaken and close to tears.
Meanwhile, the young men who worked with her, delighted that
little miss smarty-pants, the clever clogs student from Oxford,
had been caught with her knickers down, opened the windows,
egged on the warden, and laughed and jeered at the distressed
victim. “Go on, missus! Put one on her!” “Take that, swot
girl!” and other raucous exhortations and taunts were shouted
down to the street. Granny left the job a week later because
she could not stand the continuing unchivalrous ridicule. Even
her boss, while appearing sympathetic, seemed quietly amused.

  “Damn,” granny said to him. “_Two_ rotten pounds! For _one_
measly offence!”

  “Never mind,” replied her boss archly, with a twinkle in his
eye. “Perhaps they’ll give you the next one for free!”
Meanwhile the female staff and office girls were similarly
amused.

  It is usually more amusing to the observer if, as in granny’s
case, the victim is stung sharply with a really hefty fine.
“Ouch!” the amused observer will reflect, archly and with a
smug, complacent smile. “That’s just _got_ to hurt!” At one of
the hospitals where I am based it is difficult to park and many
of the more lowly staff cannot get a parking bay and have to
leave their cars in the surrounding roads. Well, a few weeks
ago one of our student nurses had her car towed away by the
authorities and had to pay a swingeing fine of GBP130 (about
USD234) to get it back. Some of us were sympathetic, but others
were amused. When the young, nubile, sexy victim complained
ruefully that this was her very first offence one of the more
scatological of my male colleagues joked: “Well you may have
been a parking ticket virgin yesterday, but today you’ve been
well deflowered and shafted.” Further hilarity was caused a few
days later when the same victim suffered a “double whammy” and
got a second ticket. This time, however, the sting was GBP100
(about USD180) less amusing at only GBP30 (USD54) if paid
promptly.

  If a number of people are all simultaneously stung with a
fine the amusement of the onlookers is increased. A few months
ago our nurses had a dance at their social club, and more than
50 of them returned to their cars to find GBP30 parking tickets
slapped onto their windscreens. Well some of the victims felt
very sorry for themselves; but many of their colleagues who had
not been stung thought it was hilarious and ribbed them
mercilessly.

  Granny tells me of something else, in her day, that was
considered amusing to nearly everyone except the victim:
disciplinary slipperings in schools. At the all girls Catholic
grammar school that granny attended in the 1940s and 50s, when
she was aged 11 to 19, such slipperings were numerous; the cane
was seldom used, but a gym pump was routinely applied to the
rumps of naughty schoolgirls, and, granny says, it used to
sting like hell. It was inflicted at the end of PT (Physical
Training) lessons across thin, tightly stretched gym knickers.
The slaps (between four and twelve) came very sharp, and re-
echoed around the rafters. The Dean of Discipline who dished
them out was a kinky old lesbian nun. With that large floppy
plimsoll in her hand she was a fiend, and she punished all
schoolgirl peccadilloes with joyful ferocity. Granny herself
took it regularly, culminating, just before her nineteenth
birthday, in 12 stinging, bum-sizzling belters for smoking in
the lavatories.

  All the girls, granny tells me, used to hate taking these
spankings. But nearly everyone, including her, thought it was
sexy and funny when _someone else_ was on the receiving end;
and the harder the victim was spanked, the funnier it was,
especially if she was a well-developed, meaty, nubile sixth-
former. What made it all even funnier was that the
disciplinarian nun, Sister Paula, used to spank the older and
bigger girls a lot harder and more often than the 11-year-old
first formers. The latter took a standard 4 slaps that were
firm but not vicious, whereas every victim of 16+ took 12
really hard ones every time. News of the spanking of girls in
the upper forms was rapidly disseminated throughout the school,
and the victims were mercilessly teased. Their red rumps would
be pointed at and giggled over by their classmates in the
communal showers; they would be offered cushions to sit on for
weeks afterwards, and so on. Most embarrassingly for the
victims, the younger girls discussed the spankings inflicted
upon their seniors with gleeful interest and delight even if,
fearful of the disciplinary reprisals, they seldom openly
teased the prefects.

  Many times, says granny, she witnessed a spanked 18-year-old
ruefully reproach her fellow sixth-formers for ribbing her,
even though she herself regularly mocked them when they
suffered the same fate. “It isn’t funny!” she would blurt out
hotly as she rubbed her hot, red, tingling bottom. “Oh yes, it
is!” was the inevitable reply from her classmates, and they
maintained that position until the roles were reversed and it
was them on the receiving end.

  Again, if a lot of big girls were all spanked together it was
even funnier than if only one of them took it. Granny reports
that once a friend of hers pulled off a superb practical joke
when she succeeded in getting 30 gross (30 x 144 = 4,320) of
condoms, addressed to the headmistress, delivered to the school
from a mail order firm. There was an attempt to hush the
incident up by the school authorities, but, of course, the
culprit leaked reports, and accurate details of the incident
were soon circulating all around the school and causing great
merriment. The origin of these reports was traced to the Upper
Sixth, and granny and her classmates were asked to reveal who
had done it. If apprehended, says granny, the offender would
inevitably have been caned and, in addition, almost certainly
expelled. Well, respectable middle class young ladies they
might have been, but, true to the criminal culture of the East
End of London, granny and her colleagues steadfastly refused to
“grass up” their friend, and, as a result, all 127 of them,
among whom were many prefects, were slippered; they all
received 12 stinging, butt-scorching spanks as hard as Sister
Paula could lay them on, much to the amusement and delight of
the lower forms.

  Granny says that she has often pondered on the psychology and
the morality of all this. After all, this strict Catholic
school put the emphasis firmly on the Christian virtues such as
loving thy neighbour as thyself. Yet, despite a sound religious
formation, even nice middle class young ladies from this posh
grammar school, like everyone else, were tainted with original
sin. They did not love their neighbour as themselves; they
laughed and rejoiced at their neighbour’s misfortunes, and they
thought it was sexy and funny when their neighbour took
something that they hated and resented when they took it
themselves.

  Well! Repent young ladies now grown old! Think what price the
Lord may exact for your atonement on the Day of Judgement, when
he resurrects you in your prime, as young women again, and you
stand as sinners before him! Did not God, in his infinite
wisdom and mercy, provide young ladies with a perfectly
proportioned section of their anatomy, and did he not design it
excellently as a target for the reception of retributive
justice? When the moon turns to blood all of those little
minxes who teased each other about their spankings may just get
their comeuppance, and be made to sting and tingle again for
their sins. The prophet Isaiah with a plimsoll in his hand
would be the perfect avenger, fatherly and fair, but firm and
just, as he was in the olden days when he thundered against the
evils of Judah.

  Which brings me, after lengthy discursions off-topic, to my
point: many people in the UK who are not victims of
circumcision are amused by people who are, just as they are
amused when _someone else_ gets a parking ticket, or takes a
spanking; and if the circumcision is tight and/or messy, or if,
as in the USA, it is inflicted upon numerous victims, it is all
the funnier. Thus in the UK the circumcised, like the victims
of parking fines and spankings, often try to cover up what has
been done to them and to hide it from view. Secrecy is their
defence against being teased and laughed at; but, of course, if
it becomes known that they have been devious and evasive, their
exposure is likely to be all the more humiliating, and their
discomfiture all the more enjoyable to their tormentors.

  My dear reader, do you know what _penis envy_ is? Well, here
is the definition from
http://www.psybox.com/web_dictionary/Penisenvy.htm
Penis envy – An aspect of Sigmund Freud’s developmental theory.
Freud believed that during development girls had to switch from
having the mother as the love object to having the father as
the love object: and also switch from the clitoris to the
vagina as the main genital zone. At about the age of four,
Freud believed that girls first discovered they lacked a penis.
The girl will blame her mother for the lack of a penis and the
consequent hurt to her own self-esteem. This causes the girl to
give up clitoral sexuality, and turn to the father as love
object. This aspect of Freud’s theory has received a great deal
of criticism, particularly from feminist psychoanalysts.

  Yes, well, I see the feminists’ point. Not “Freud” but
“Fraud” is how I would describe the famous Viennese
psychoanalyst. I myself think that penis envy is a useful
concept, but that it is a lot simpler than Freud claimed it
was. At a young age a little girl sees a little boy naked; and
he has got a dick and she has not. This makes her envious.
Then, as she grows up, she finds that boys are full of
testosterone and “side.” They are not girly, sensitive,
interactive, and into relationships; they are action oriented,
arrogant, full of themselves and, well, cocky. And the young
girl ascribes these unpleasing, unfeminine character traits to
the fact that the young man has got a cock. So if she then
finds out that this same young man has been circumcised she is
amused, and delights in the fact that his cock, if not his ego,
has been “cut to size.” [At least, that is my impression of how
it is in the United Kingdom; in the USA there are so many men
who have taken the chop that the girls may well think that it
is normal.]

  In my experience, one of the best times for a lady to observe
and scrutinise a man’s dick is during fellatio. I remember
talking to my girlfriend at Medical School, Jennifer, about
this one. In the UK it is now unusual for a man to be
circumcised; Jennifer's boyfriend, however, has taken the chop,
and she describes to me her feelings about it. In the UK these
days circumcision is, as I say, seldom practised and seldom
discussed; when it is it usually amuses everyone except the
victim. Jennifer is certainly amused by what has been done to
her boyfriend, Simon, and by his resentment and dislike of it.
Smiling archly, she tells me that it saves her the trouble of
“unzipping her banana.” Her lover, she adds, likes it when she
fellates him; and she herself does not mind, since circumcision
helps to keep his cock nice and clean for her invading lips and
tongue. “There is no need to unpack my lunch,” she adds slyly.
“The meat is _prêt a manger_,” or ready to eat, with no
necessity to roll a bulky foreskin back down the cock shaft.

  The embarrassment of circumcision continues into a man’s
marriage, and, even more so, when he acquires children. In the
latter case he has two choices. Firstly, he can have his sons
circumcised. This is fine by me since I always rejoice when a
foreskin bites the dust. The father's fear of appearing
different is, as I note above, a massive reason for the
continuation of routine infant cock chopping in the USA, and a
very good thing this is too! Secondly, the man can spare his
sons' foreskins, as usually happens, on medical advice, in the
UK. But he then has to face embarrassing family questions about
his operation, not only from his sons but also, and even more
embarrassingly, from his wife and daughters.

  So there you have it, dear reader. If, like Elvis Presley,
you are a US male, but if, unlike him, you have taken the
knife, you are probably in embarrassed denial of the truth.
Circumcision is no “little snip”; it is a "massive chop." It is
not only me, but also many other circumcisers, who do not snip
off only the foreskin (the skin covering the glans or cock head
and lying in front of it). We also take a thick strip of what
you might call "back skin," or shaft skin that lies behind the
cock head and up the shaft, together with all, or almost all,
of the frenulum, the delectably sensitive triangular patch of
stringy, twangy skin that is joined to the glans on the
underside of the cock shaft. Indeed, like many other
circumcisers, I always try to do as thorough and comprehensive
a job as possible by chopping off the whole of the frenulum, so
that not even a vestige is left! I like to make absolutely sure
that the skin on the erect shaft is pulled as tight as a drum
skin, even before orgasm.
     
  Then, when the victim fires away, the skin is pulled tighter
still. Not many people know this, but during ejaculation the
scrotum significantly (and for the circumcised man painfully)
reduces the amount of skin covering the base of the penile
shaft. This is because, during the sex act, the scrotum and the
Dartos muscle located in the scrotum contract strongly, thus
causing the shaft skin and (if there is one) the foreskin to
contract with them. For the uncircumcised punter this process
merely takes up much of the slack in penile skin resulting from
retraction of the foreskin onto the shaft of the penis; as
nature intended it to, it gives him a much better bonk. But for
the tightly circumcised shagger the effect is much more
amusing. His denuded, foreskin-free cock skin, already pulled
as tight as a drum skin when he first got overexcited, is
tugged even tighter down his shaft by the strong muscular
contraction of his bollock bag and of its attendant muscle.
Thus, as he fires off, his already reduced sexual pleasure is
accompanied by a sharp, tugging pain as the denuded housing of
his cock struggles to cope with the extra strain that is
inflicted upon it. If he is lucky he may be too excited to take
very much notice of the pain and discomfort at the time of
ejaculation. But you can bet your boots that his cock skin will
feel pretty sore and tender immediately afterwards.

  And, of course, that is just half of the story. As well as
what it is taking, the question is also about what the
circumcised cock is not taking, and it is not taking anything
like the amount or the intensity of sexual pleasure provided by
Mother Nature. The latest research on foreskins highlights the
crucial importance of the so-called ridged band, a deliciously
sensitive flap of wrinkled skin that lies just behind the
frenulum. If this is cut off, the research indicates, the cock
enjoys a considerably less pleasurable and ecstatic sexual
experience. Well since I learned of the existence of the ridged
band I have always been most careful to excise it completely,
at each and every circumcision that I perform. Oh, yes! I am
Jillie (Nemesis of the Willie) Chopcock, the Circumciser From
Hell! To paraphrase Damon Runyon, I never (and I mean never!)
give a fucker an even break! Wow! I can tell you, buddy, this
gal don’t cut you no slack! Or rather, I do. I cut all the
slack there is and leave you very tight! Just once is all that
it takes! I promise you, that if ever I get your cock under my
knife, I will make you pay. Oh yes! I will give you something
to feel cut up about! I will make you very, very sorry for
yourself!
     
  But I digress. In fact, the ridged band is dead meat, and
routinely cut off, in the vast majority of circumcisions
anyway. Wow! What a pity that most circumcised men have no idea
what exactly is happening down there, or exactly what it is
that they are missing! If they knew they would be even more
incensed and inflamed than they already are. They would be both
sorry for themselves and hopping mad; at the same time they
would be wallowing in self pity and boiling with fury against
those who cut them.

  Another thing that I find a sexy turn on about circumcised
men is the growing evidence that their mutilation causes them
to practise kinkier sex. Here is a CNN report, dated April 1,
1997:
Circumcision offers little advantage where health is concerned,
but men who are circumcised tend to have more varied sex, a
study published on Tuesday said. The study, by University of
Chicago researchers and published in this week's Journal of the
American Medical Association, found "significant differences
between circumcised and uncircumcised men in terms of their
sexual practices." "We were quite surprised to see such clear
evidence, at least within the white population, that
masturbation was correlated with being circumcised as well as
engaging in oral sex and anal sex," University of Chicago
researcher Edward Laumann said.
The study said 47 percent of circumcised men reported
masturbating at least once a month versus 34 percent for their
uncircumcised peers... Circumcised men were found to be nearly
1.4 times more likely to engage in heterosexual oral sex than
uncircumcised men, the study reported. They also were more
likely to have had homosexual oral sex and heterosexual anal
intercourse. The study was based on an analysis of data
collected from a sample of 1,410 men, aged 18 to 59, in the
United States, which has one of the world's highest non-
religious circumcision rates...
The new report offers no firm guidance for parents to reach a
decision on the question of whether or not to circumcise their
sons. Alex Enakifo and his wife Russa-Marie Oni decided to
circumcise their boy, despite her objections. The prevailing
factor: "It's a family tradition that we all get circumcised,"
Enakifo said. That's usually how it works, obstetrician Stephen
Blank says. "In most families, the father or ... male children
in the family have already been circumcised, so they don't want
to appear as the outcasts or different from those other members
of the family" ...
Circumcision rates reached 80 percent in the United States
after the World War II but peaked in the mid-1960s and have
since fallen off amid debate over whether the practice has
health value or adversely affects male satisfaction, the study
said. "The considerable impact of circumcision status on sexual
practice represents a new finding that should further enrich
such discussion," the researchers wrote. "Our results support
the view that physicians and parents be informed of the
potential benefits and risks before circumcising newborns."

  Oh my! Oh yes! That certainly does “enrich ...discussion”!
And it strongly endorses my views about circumcision. A man
with a foreskin enjoys perfect sex. The greatest and most
intense pleasure that this world has to offer is his for the
taking. It is all too easy for him. When he enters a lady he is
completely fulfilled, and asks for no more than to be allowed
to repeat the experience again and again. Why should he be a
sexual pervert? Why should he want anal sex and cunnilingus
with his lady? (On the downside, however, his enjoyment of the
ultimate pleasure makes him infuriatingly complacent. Grrr! How
I would just love to take the foreskin of every uncircumcised
stud in the world and cut it off! Given half a chance I would
soon wipe the smug, self-satisfied smiles from off their faces.
How I would love to rattle their cages of contentment, and make
them wince, fume and curse!)
     
  In contrast, the sex act leaves the circumcised shagger
frustrated and unrequited. He feels the need to do something
more to get satisfaction. So he puts his head between his
lady’s thighs and pushes his tongue into her hairy, dirty cunt
hole while she licks, sucks and bites around the annular scar
of his circumcised cock. Then, to pleasure his desensitised
dick, disappointed by its experience in the vagina, he
violently shoves it up his lady’s dirt box! Beautiful! And I
bet you a pound to a pinch of poo that it does not stop there.
I bet you that circumcised men are far more likely to be into
sadomasochistic practices like spanking and caning, rape, and
other sexual perversions. Oh yes! Those of us with a kinky
disposition, who like a bit of rough play and violence in our
sex, should be very grateful that so many men are circumcised.
Who wants a gentle, sensitive lover who bonks his lady with
consideration and is happy with what he gets? Such easy ecstasy
is bound to make him lazy. He needs to be made to sweat,
strain, grunt and suffer, and, for example, to give and take
the odd cut from a cane across the bare arse, and so on! Let
the sex research continue! We must get to the bottom of all
this! And may the public debate be long, passionate, intense
and furious!

  The other point made by the researchers, of course, is the
one that I have myself made already. Cut men like their sons to
be circumcised as they have been. They do not want to look
different, or to be personally embarrassed by their humbling
little snip; and the infants take the chop for this utterly
trivial reason. So when once one cock is cut, others take the
knife too, again and again, down the generations. And thus the
discomfort and sexual frustration during intercourse, the
buggery, the cunnilingus, the sadomasochistic spanking and
caning, and the sexual perversion, goes on, and on, and on. Oh,
wow! That is just beautiful!
     
  By the way, to digress yet again, do you know what a Gomco
Clamp is? It is a device that is used by some US doctors as an
aid to surgery at neonatal circumcisions. It looks to be very
fearsome, and for this reason features large on anti-
circumcision sites on the Internet. It certainly has its
charms. For example, it stamps onto the cock a gorgeous, thick,
clear brown ring or halo, sometimes known as the “brown ring of
justice.” Take a look at some of the circumcised cocks freely
displayed on the Internet, ladies, and you will soon see what I
mean. This prominent brown scar indicates a “circumcision by
crushing,” in which a Gomco Clamp, or similar, is used like a
tight metal vice, to press together the inner and outer skin of
the prepuce, with considerable force, for a period of time.
This closes off the arteries and veins, reduces bleeding when
the foreskin is chopped off, and removes the necessity for
stitches or sutures around the scar. The good news, however, is
that a Gomco circumcision stencils onto the cock this thick,
prominent, highly visible brown ring, and thus makes it
absolutely clear to everyone that the owner of the scarred dick
has taken the chop.

  Recently, on the UK’s Sky Travel TV station, I saw a
programme about nude beaches. One scene depicted a naked
seaside wedding on Hawaii. Wow! The small, meaty, voluptuous,
white-skinned bride was gorgeous. The groom was a tall man, and
he towered above his diminutive partner; but, small as she was,
the blushing bride had a curvaceous, pulchritude packed
physique guaranteed to stiffen the cock of any healthy male.
The groom himself was clearly anticipating the delights of the
marriage bed, and the pleasures of his wedding night. He was
dangerously over-excited, protruding at “half cock,” sticking
out at about 45 degrees to his balls, and explicitly showing
off his beautiful thick brown scar. The cameraman captured the
scar, and the rest of the cock, to perfection; there was some
exquisite, minutely detailed footage, and I got an excellent
eyeful of beat up, battered, mutilated dick.

  Meanwhile, the bride gave a winning smile, and blushed
delightfully; she was understandably embarrassed and flustered
that her naked charms were broadcast to the whole world on
network TV. “How did I let myself get talked into this?” she
seemed to be thinking. Well it sure worked for me! “Wow, lady!”
I thought. “You are stunning!”

  Then I returned my attention to her over-excited partner, and
to his tumescent manhood. “Yes, mate!” I thought to myself with
grim satisfaction. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? And I bet
you’ll enjoy it even more when you get this little stunner into
bed with you! As you both stand there, your cock is hovering
well over her cunt; but when you lay her flat for a spot of
horizontal jogging her love tunnel will be much more
assailable! That’s a big, thick cock that you’ve got there, and
I bet it will be a deliciously tight fit up your wife’s little
pussy! But don’t get too triumphalist! That’s a really drastic,
taut, comprehensive cut you’ve taken, and there will be a
sizeable and significant piece of you that won’t be going to
the party, including, by the look of it, your entire frenulum!
Think of a purple, unkeratinised glans! Think of the sybaritic
delights of a wrinkled ridged band! Think of a foreskin packed
with tens of thousands of nerves and pleasure receptors! Think
of an intact, exquisitely sensitive triangular frenulum
harnessed to the dimpled ridge on the underside of your cock
head. Think of the cock, think of the wedding night, that you
might have had, and weep!” And I grinned, slyly and
lasciviously, with a fierce, spiteful joy. “Chop!” I thought,
“Gotcha! Take that, you randy, horny, lascivious bastard!”

 Yes, that was a sexy little scene on Hawaii, and the memory of
it continues to moisten and stir my vulva. I was recently also
stimulated by another big, beefy US stud on a television
programme entitled "The Perfect Penis." The lad, very unwisely,
had opted for some expensive, drastic and invasive surgery on
his cock to make it a little bit larger. The viewer was given
the privilege of witnessing the surgeon's pre-operation
inspection, and wow, but that young man had a big tool! The
most noticeable thing about it to me, however, was not its
impressive size, but the thick brown ring that had been stamped
on it by the Gomco clamp during a particularly drastic neonatal
circumcision that had, yet again, excavated the whole of the
frenulum. Ouch! The victim was sublimely unaware of the savage
mutilation that had been inflicted on him, and the programme
made no mention of it; but, like a deflowered virgin, our stud
will never get back what he lost that day, no matter how many
other painful and embarrassing operations he endures. Teehee!
Take that one big boy! Wallop! That's cut you down to size and
how!

However, having said that, the Gomco clamp is still not for me.
One disadvantage is that it makes a neat and accurate cut.
Sometimes, it is true, as in the cases of our over-excited
bridegroom and of our well tooled US stud, that a Gomco
circumcision excises the entire foreskin, including every
square millimetre of frenulum. But all too often there is a
little cuff of spare foreskin, and a small patch of frenulum,
that survives. It is not much, but it is more than enough to
irritate the dedicated cock chopper. I was therefore gratified
to read an article against circumcision clamps in the medical
press.  It was entitled, “Circumcision clamps may cause injury,
FDA warns,” and the Urology Times published it from Cleveland
in October 2000. Here is the report:

Doctors should carefully examine two popular surgical clamps
used for circumcising newborns, the FDA warned after receiving
reports that worn-out or misassembled clamps have injured more
than 105 infants since 1996. The use of Gomcor- and Mogenr-type
clamps that have been reassembled with parts from different
manufacturers has led to clamps breaking, slipping, falling off
during use, tearing tissue, or failing to make a tight seal.
The agency recommends that concerned physicians either contact
the device manufacturer to obtain correct replacement parts or
discard the device completely.

  Good. That settles that then. Throw those clamps away.
Because there is only one way to cut a cock to perfection. You
must cut it quick, tight and messy, in a carefree, cavalier,
insouciant and arbitrary fashion that indicates that you do not
care a fig about the victim, his cock, or his sexual pleasure.
And you must cut it dictatorially, with meanness and spite. And
the only way to do that to perfection is with the beautiful,
sharp, bare-naked knife. Believe me, if you wield it right, it
can make a big, big difference!

  If you cut the cock of a neonate really tightly, you may be
lucky enough to create the hilarious "turkey neck" effect in
adulthood. This is where a dewlap of skin from the scrotum is
tugged halfway or more down the penis shaft; the effect,
especially when the cock is erect, is most amusing. A cock
mutilated in this way is so ugly and unsightly, and looks so
ridiculous, that some people think that it is deformed. Well, I
suppose that it is, really, but the deformation is not a
natural one; it is the effect of the circumciser's knife. It
occurs when, to cut off enough skin for a really tight
circumcision, the surgeon pulls the shaft skin forwards, and,
in doing so, tugs the scrotal sack forwards too, so that the
balls are in effect hanging from half-mast, with a stretch of
skin from the underside of the shaft to the scrotum. Oh, wow!
That is just wicked! What a turn on for perverts like me! It
seems amazing that, for example, a vindictive female
circumciser such as myself should have it in her power to do
something that mean and spiteful to her victim purely on a
personal whim. And be warned by me, gentlemen of the USA. When
it comes to inflicting tight circumcisions we ladies are worse
offenders than you men. The USA has been rightly categorised as
a matriarchal society, and many of those kinky US ladies see
circumcision as a very effective way of keeping men in their
place. So beware of female obstetricians (of whom there are now
quite a number) who are wielding knives! And beware of another
type of foreskin chopping lady who is rapidly coming into
prominence: the female mohel or "mohelet" among reformed Jews.
I note with interest that at least one of the latter is so
eager for the work that she advertises her services on the
internet.

  The dictatorial, arbitrary, undemocratic aspect of
circumcision I find a kinky hoot. The USA, the world’s greatest
democracy, is where the practice of circumcision is most
widespread. Now at governmental level the USA is heavily into
transparency and accountability, and its citizens go to great
lengths to build these qualities into their institutions and
processes. In sharp contrast, they allow their medics to take
whatever liberties they like with the foreskins of their male
population. Mutilation is widespread, casual, unregulated,
uncontrolled, and practised in complete or semi-secrecy. There
is no transparency, and no democratic accountability for the
surgeons. It is not even known with any accuracy how many US
males are cut; and the victims usually have no effective legal
redress against the wrongs inflicted upon them.

  Thus, amazingly, US surgeons do exactly as they like. They
perform circumcisions in whatever way they see fit, and have
more or less complete discretion over which skin, and how much
skin, they cut off; they thus constitute a sizeable
constituency of arbitrary, dictatorial, non-accountable power-
wielders. To make it worse, for much of the time the surgeons
who chop are not even the ones who deal with any post-operative
problems. There is a fat fee to be gained from every
circumcision performed, and the first surgeon to get a claim on
this is usually the obstetrician. Now the obstetrician
specialises not in babies and foreskins but in ladies’ rude
bits and in their baby-making equipment. Yet it is the
obstetricians who seize the chance of easy extra income; in
short, they “chop and go.” They pocket the cash, and leave the
paediatricians to pick up any debris. It might be my
imagination, but I do not think that the paediatricians are
happy to be deprived of the chopping fees, or to be lumbered
with the work of sorting out problems caused by their slash-
happy colleagues. I sense a certain pique in the sceptical
statements concerning circumcision issued by paediatric bodies;
in contrast, the obstetricians, who are much more reticent on
the subject, display a certain silent glee as they bank the
easy cash.

  I remember reading the details once of a family with 5 sons.
One had not been circumcised at all, and the other four had all
been cut by four different surgeons in radically different
ways; for example, one victim had received a fairly light
trimming so that his frenulum was more or less intact whereas
another had been viciously and very messily chopped back to his
scrotum. So wake up, Uncle Sam, and protect your nephews; or,
on second thoughts, do not, or sexual perverts like me (and, I
suspect, a sizeable number of the surgeons) will have to look
elsewhere for our kicks. Certainly, some very interesting and
high-powered political debates could be organised around the
theme “Is neonatal circumcision compatible with liberal
democracy?” But, hey, on the other hand, on this one, sensible,
reasoned, transparent and accountable democracy is far more
boring than the exercise of outrageous, secretive, arbitrary
power!
     
  Anyway, slack circumcision or tight circumcision, after the
cock has been chopped there is always an ugly penile scar
perfectly positioned for meticulous feminine observation and
saucy sniggering. And as for that big, bare glans or cock head,
well! Instead of the rich purple-coloured helmet of the uncut
man, the circumcised prick tip callouses over into a thick
rubbery bell end. This exposed glans loses much of its
sensitivity, and the skin on it is only slightly pinker than
the skin on the rest of the body. Wow! What a giggle for the
amused female observer!

  I find America, therefore, an intensely sexy country. Some of
the most beautiful women in the world live there, ladies who
are big, well developed and lusty. Just think of some of those
film stars: Kim Bassinger, Demi Moore, Kirsty Alley and so on.
It also has some very handsome hunks of men. But do these men
fully enjoy their womenfolk as nature intended? Do they hell!
Virtually all of those big beefy studs have been routinely
circumcised at birth. I was stunned to read the figures on this
in the report by Masters and Johnson. They had a few foreskins
on their volunteers, but always on the older men who had not
been born in a hospital. As I recall, just about every single
one of the younger men had a chopped chopper.

  In this respect it is enlightening to contrast the USA with
another great democracy, France, where circumcision is rare.
Relations between these two countries are currently prickly,
partly as a result of policy differences in the Middle East.
Furthermore, these current spats are part of a long tradition
of tension between the two countries, as, for example, when the
French Republic withdrew from NATO and developed its own
independent “force de frappe” or (nuclear) “strike force.” Now
historians and current affairs experts have extensively
analysed the bickering between the two great democracies; in
contrast, I will give you my much simpler explanation. The
French seem to the Americans to be so stroppy, supercilious,
arrogant, smug and complacent because, well because they are!
Every informed Frenchman knows that he has a little bit between
his legs that most Americans lack. This is why he is so self-
confident and “cocky”; it is also, incidentally, one reason why
Frenchmen are convinced that they are great lovers. Oh dear! I
would just love to exact revenge for Uncle Sam by cutting our
Gallic friends to size, but that, I fear, is not on the cards!

  I love leering at circumcised cocks in "Playgirl" and similar
American magazines. The studs pose around looking macho and
very proud of themselves. But when you gaze at their cocks you
almost invariably find, protruding from their hairy crotches, a
beat up shaft with a naked glans at the end of it, and an ugly,
pock marked and pitted scar all around it. Wow! Take that big
boy! Wallop! What a sexy way to cut men to size! What a
ridiculous and amusing little operation! Except I don't suppose
that they see the joke!

  By the way, are you, dear reader, a follower of the Arts? One
currently fashionable cultural and intellectual movement that I
find particularly apposite to circumcision is Minimalism. After
all, men do not really _need_ a foreskin, and they do not
_need_ a frenulum. They are superfluous appendages, unnecessary
luxuries, and their cocks can function perfectly well, if
considerably less pleasurably, without them. Thus, when I am
performing a circumcision I always strive to do away with as
much of this surplus fold of skin, and its attached frenulum,
as possible. I aim for a minimalist cock. This is a cock that
has been circumcised up to and including the last possible
scrap and sliver of foreskin, shaft skin and frenulum. It is a
cock that has been stripped to its absolute bare essentials,
and that is kept on the tightest of tight reins. It is
essential for the continuation of the human race that men fuck
women. And we women enjoy it! But men do not need to enjoy it
overmuch while they are pleasuring us. No. That is superfluous
to requirements, and we do not want to spoil them. They must
get enough pleasure to keep them interested, and to keep them
bonking. They should also not experience so much pain and
discomfort that it makes them stop. But that is it. Anything
more than that should be strictly denied them. Men should get
the minimum possible amount of pleasure out of a shag, and they
should pay for this with the greatest possible amount of
simultaneous pain and discomfort. At the end of a screw they
should be grinning with pleasure, and wincing in pain and
discomfort, in more or less equal measure. So I always do my
best to deliver minimal cock skin, minimal pleasure, and never
to give my victims as much as an extra millimetre of surplus
skin.

  This brings me to the concept of “cock control.” This is
derived from the idea of “mind control,” as featured in a large
number of stories posted on the Internet. Now mind control is
not for me. I do not want to curtail a man’s freedom of
thought. If, for example, he reads Shakespeare plays and
reaches his own independent conclusions about their image
patterns, I have no objection at all. I do not even mind what
views he has on politics, or which party he votes for. All of
that is far too ethereal and vacuous for me to worry about. But
his cock, and what he does with it, is another matter; that I
do want to control. I want to take from him as many sexual
preferences and options as I can. I want to deny him all of
those little choices, alternatives and variations that a long,
full, luxuriant foreskin provides. I want a tight, stiff,
denuded shaft that goes in, out, in, out, and can do little
else. Look, buster, this ain’t Burger King. After a short,
sharp acquaintance with my trusty chopping knife you no longer
get it your way; you get it my way or you don’t damn get it!

  Another sexy phenomenon is the widespread use of male
circumcision on blacks, in both the USA and Africa. I am not by
nature a racist, but like a lot of white women I am ambivalent
about black guys, and about all the stories and hype concerning
the size of their choppers. The thought of a big black man with
an enormous cock excites but also unnerves me. In my view,
cocks that big deserve to be cut to size, and the bigger the
cock the funnier and sexier it is when it takes the chop. The
black cocks that are regularly on display in “Playgirl”
seriously turn me on. They must turn other readers on too, or
fewer of them would get published. Some of those dusky studs
have got enormous tools. But, like their white brothers, they
have nearly all taken the knife. You will see a big black
stallion, his tool more than half way down to his knees, with
an enormous prick tip that seems to be about the size of a
black billiard ball. Then all around the big, thick shaft is an
ugly scar, blacker than the skin that it cuts through. White
men, as I say, usually have about 15 square inches of foreskin
missing, and their circumcision scars are normally about 5
inches long. For black guys I reckon the average figures must
be a few more square inches of prepuce and perhaps another half
an inch of scar tissue. All this is as true of African blacks
as it is of blacks in the USA; and, like their US brothers, a
very large number of African males are circumcised, often very
comprehensively, inexpertly and messily, leaving their cocks
beautifully beat up and disfigured. Again, wow, oh wow! Come
here, black boy! Take down your trousers and hold out your
prick. How dare you lust after white missy! Now cop this - you
deserve it! Snip, snip, snip, throb, yell! Now bend over! You
are also getting 6 cuts of the cane across your bare black
bottom! Swish, crack, swish, crack, etc. Wow! How I would love
to inflict a punishment like that! Except that, being tender
hearted, I might condescend to use a local anaesthetic for the
surgery.

 (Note: I got the idea for this fantasy from a news report from
South Africa in the days of apartheid. A black man on a railway
station had commented to a white lady standing nearby, "Missy,
you got nice legs!" You may think that this was a trivial and
harmless peccadillo, but the beak took a different view. Just
for that the offender was sentenced to 12 cuts of the cane. The
judge (obviously a bigoted, atavistic racist) commented that he
thought that, in this case, the punishment was particularly
appropriate for the offence. Wow! It was well unjust, but, even
so, what a strict and sharp comeuppance for a saucy but
completely innocuous compliment! I bet the lady (who, like the
judge, was almost certainly a racist, or she would not have
complained to the authorities in the first place) was well
flattered and well turned on by the penalty inflicted upon her
admirer! I can imagine her smugly gloating to her female
friends about it in her exclusive white suburb: "The insolent
kaffir! I had him caned for it, you know! Yes, thanks to me he
got twelve of the best across his bare black bottom! And I
would do it again, too!”)

  Actually, proposals for the widespread circumcision of blacks
in Africa are currently in the news. As you may have heard,
medical research has unearthed the interesting fact that black
males on the Dark Continent who have been circumcised are at
least four times less likely than uncircumcised blacks to
contract Aids, even when their lifestyles are
indistinguishable. The research further indicates that for
uncircumcised Africans it is the foreskin that is the problem.
It is not that the glans, when covered by a foreskin, remains
unkeratinised and hence prone to infection. It is that the
foreskin itself contains cells that let the Aids virus pass
through them. The solution is quick, cheap and simple: the
universal circumcision of every man in Africa, black, white,
Cape Coloured or whatever, until there is not a single foreskin
on an adult male throughout the entire continent. We need to
chop off every foreskin in Africa, and we need to chop it off
very, very thoroughly. Indeed, to make absolutely sure of
effective protection against Aids, we need to chop off a good
thick swathe of shaft skin, and the entire frenulum, together
with the foreskin. This may seem harsh, but we have to be cruel
to be kind. Yes, line up all the uncircumcised men in Africa
and chop them; and chop them very hard and very tight. Not a
vestige of loose skin should be left on their cocks, even when
they are flaccid. When their cocks are erect the cock skin
should be pulled so tight over their stiffened shafts that it
makes their faces wince, and their eyes water. After all, we do
not want to leave any little flaps and folds of skin for the
virus to nestle in, do we? It would all be a big job, of
course. But I for one would happily volunteer to help! Perhaps
the World Heath Organisation could organise teams of volunteer
cock choppers to do the work in their holidays. Wow! What a
splendid way to spend the Summer Vacation! If I had three
weeks, say, to do it in, I reckon that I could make several
thousand foreskins bite the dust. Oh yes! “Chop ’til you drop”
would be my motto, and there would be some bare cock heads,
some sore cocks, and a lot of guys feeling very, very chastened
and very, very sorry for themselves by the time I had finished
with them. Oh, yes! I would make sure that they winced and
shuddered at the memory of little missy with the knife for the
rest of their lives! Not, of course, that I would be prejudiced
in my surgery. I would scrupulously chop the cocks of blacks,
Cape Coloureds, white South Africans of Dutch and British
descent, etc., etc., with equal strictness and severity!

  But enough of fantasies. What is not fantasy but fact is that
I regularly circumcise men in my capacity as a surgeon. Oh,
yes! I am a right little cock botherer, prick punisher, willie
worrier and knob robber, I can tell you! I am small, but I am
deadly! I am of slight build and I stand a mere 5 feet 3
inches, or a total of 63 inches, in my stockinged feet. And I
cut off, on average, a length of foreskin of between 5 and 6
inches at every circumcision. So for every dozen or so cocks
that I chop I cut off my own height and more in foreskin. Or,
to put it another way, I chop off the best part of 10 per cent
of my own body height from each cock that I butcher. Oh wow! I
can tell you that if you get circumcised by me you know you've
been cut! After all, what is the point of any surgery unless it
makes a difference? If I circumcised someone and it had no
effect I would have failed. I would have expended valuable
effort to no purpose. In short, I would have wasted my time. So
I always ensure that I _do_ make a difference, and a very
significant difference at that! After he has felt my knife a
man is never the same again, and he never forgets what I have
done to him! I picture him as he wistfully remembers what it
was like before he lost his prepuce. I imagine him as he
recalls the old days, before he was cut, when his stiff, moist,
excited cock would glide up and down a lady's sticky, aroused,
receptive pussy. Perhaps he calls to mind the exquisite
sensations as tens of thousands of nerves and sensitive
receptors on his foreskin pleasured his cock and sent his
entire central nervous system into Nirvana and seventh heaven.
Then, perchance, he winces that his dry, denuded, desensitised
cockhead is no longer delivering the same quality of service,
and he ponders on whether or not it was a good idea to let me
loose on him with my knife. Well, sorry sucker! You were a
chump to let me do what I did to you, but it is too late now;
there is no going back!

  Let me explain how I get to circumcise my victims. After my
experience with Maggie's husband, I decided to specialise in
urino-genital surgery. This, as I hoped it would, has opened up
(so to speak!) a number of possibilities (not to say, of
cocks!). For example, the standard surgical treatment for
conditions such as phimosis is removal of the foreskin. Other
men (suckers!) proffer their pricks from choice, or because
they have a Jewish or Muslim wife or girlfriend that they want
to please, or because they misguidedly think that the
circumcised cock looks better, or because they are masochists,
or because - _I_ don't know!

  I have to be careful how I play it, of course. But I think it
is fair to say that a very large number of patients suspected
of suffering from phimosis and similar conditions, boys and
men, have had their cocks chopped by me in circumstances where,
let us say, a less interventionist surgeon might have abstained
from surgery and recommended more conservative medical
treatments! If there is the least excuse for it, or even if
there is no excuse at all and I can get away with it, I
_always_ chop. And I _always_ chop very hard! On every single
occasion that I have circumcised a cock I have invariably taken
off more skin than is recommended in the medical text-books,
and have done my very best to remove all vestiges of the
deliciously sensitive frenulum. Yes, sir! To repeat: I take off
all of the frenulum and as much of the other cock skin as I
dare to without facing the risk of a successful claim for
damages from the victim. Wowee! As my husband John puts it, I
sure pack a mean blade! And he should know! (See below.) Yet so
far I have been lucky. Many are the cocks I have butchered, and
every single cock owner has taken the chop like a lamb to the
slaughter. Thankfully, no post-operative difficulties have ever
been blamed on the fact that I am more than a little slash
happy and over-enthusiastic with my knife!

  I am determined to keep on chopping cocks for as long and as
hard as I can. I solemnly swear to you, that if ever I get the
chance to cut a cock and I let it pass, or do not cut it as
hard as I can get away with, I will let my husband administer 6
hard cuts of the cane across my bare bottom - and serve me
right too. The only exception are my own sons (see below),
whose cocks, as a loving mother, I condescended to spare from
the knife.

  There has fairly recently been set up in Britain a branch of
the US pressure group CAC (Campaign Against Circumcision). Its
members are mostly men who have a hang up over being chopped.
CAC members go around squawking like a bevy of deflowered
virgins, outraged at their loss and stridently demanding back
their maidenhoods. But when once the cock is chopped, and the
flesh is off, to paraphrase the folk song: "A foreskin on the
cock there will never more be, Until apples grow on an orange
tree." Some of these men, resentful and/or angry, join support
groups to bleat about having been snipped. Others attempt so-
called "foreskin restoration" by hanging weights on their
willies and other ridiculous, hilarious, painful and usually
completely ineffective practices. For no matter how many
weights a cut man hangs on his willie it is as vain and useless
for him to strive for the return of his prepuce as for a
deflowered virgin to attempt the restitution of her hymen. What
is lost is lost forever, and the victim will never get it back.

The correct response to CAC members, and, indeed, to all men
who resent their circumcisions, is to laugh at them, to tease
them, and to belittle them. They may think that what has been
done to them is outrageous, but we should not agree.  On the
contrary, we should say that it is no big deal. They should
stop being babies. They should grow up and quit whingeing. At
first, they should be told, their complaints were amusing; but
they are now becoming boring, annoying even. So they have had
their cocks chopped! So what! What's the big deal? After all,
it was only a little snip. They are seriously self-obsessed,
and they need to pull themselves together, to forget it, and to
get on with their lives. The point was well put by a lady
called Amanda in an internet posting that I read recently:

Why does it matter if men have optimal sexual pleasure? They're
obviously getting enough that it's a driving force in most of
their lives. If they were any more into it, would that really
be a good thing? To me, worrying that a lack of foreskin has
diminished sexual pleasure is like worrying that having burned
my tongue as a child has diminished my sense of taste. Even if
it's true, which it may well be, I still love food almost to
excess, so what's the real damage?

  That is not how the members of CAC see it, of course.I have
prevailed upon my husband to subscribe to the CAC Newsletter,
and it is a very sexy and amusing read. I quote from one
edition. As a result of circumcision, the writer states, "the
raw glans becomes totally exposed, which, with the remaining
inner foreskin, ...becomes dried membrane and leaves the shaft
skin taut and immobile. This ‘little snip’ removes up to 36% of
the shaft skin. A permanent, visible penile scar remains."
(Thirty-six per cent? And the rest if I am performing the
surgery!) Later, the author bewails the loss of pleasure which
circumcision causes: "The foreskin is a unique organ, richly
supplied with sensory nerves and blood vessels. Without doubt
the foreskin enhances sexual pleasure." (Whereas cutting it
off, of course, ends it!) Then, in a later edition, another
writes: “During heavy petting, my fiancée, a nurse
receptionist, ran a finger over my glans and around the scar
explaining, ‘We have a circumcision tomorrow.’ My face must
have glowed in the dark.” Ouch! I bet it did! The same
correspondent goes on to give numerous other details about how
carefully he conceals his operation, and about how embarrassing
he finds it all. Wow! I just love it when they get all coy,
secretive and embarrassed! Then, in the same edition of the
Newsletter, there is another article entitled “NOT ‘just a
little piece of skin!’” In this another member writes: “I have
been studying details of a very interesting visual aid from the
USA that illustrates just how much skin is lost by
circumcision. Cut out a card 3” x 5”. Bring the two ends of the
card together and hold the card together with your finger so
the card forms a ring. Hold the ring up to your audience and
say. “This ring represents an average male foreskin. Like this
ring, the circumference of the average man’s erect penis is 5
inches around and the average foreskin length in 1.5 inches on
the outer foreskin and another 1.5 inches in the inner
foreskin. The total area of the foreskin then on an adult male
is equal to this 3” x 5” card (open up the card). This is how
much skin an adult male loses from being circumcised as an
infant. That is almost 36% of his penile shaft skin!” Continue
by saying “The area of skin the size of a 10p piece contains
more than 12 feet of nerves and over 50 nerve endings. As you
can see, fifteen 10p pieces fit easily on this card with room
to spare. Infant circumcision robs men of 240 ft. of nerves and
over 1,000 nerve endings meant to enhance… sexual pleasure.” In
an accompanying illustration, an area of the page 3” x 5” is
marked off, and 15 circles with the same circumference as a 10p
piece are drawn within it in three rows and five columns. Wow!
That rectangle looks huge! What a clit-stiffener!

  Well, I cannot really argue with all that, except to say that
while these writers consider that this is outrageous, I just
think that it is all very, very sexy and very, very funny. A
favourite word of these bleaters is "keratinisation." Keratin
is hard, horny tissue, and they claim that circumcision makes
them hard and horny in the glans department by thickening and
desensitising the skin. I can also tell you that it makes me
hard and horny in the clitoris department by really turning me
on! At the moment these whingers are an irritant rather than a
threat. In England, CAC is very small, and, thankfully, likely
to remain so for the foreseeable future. And in the US a large
majority of boy babies are still chopped because, according to
the latest figures that I am aware of, the doctors pocket about
$200 million a year by charging for the surgery.

  Note: I do not know what the current figures are, but, a
short time ago, surgeons in the USA usually charged about $100
for a circumcision. Therefore, with a total of about $200
million netted every year, about 2 million US babies a year got
chopped. Calculating an adult prepuce at 15 sq. inches, this
amounts to 30 million sq. inches of cock skin cut off every
year. This amounts to 20,833 square feet or 145 square yards.
At the same rate of chopping, over the last 70 years, there is
a total of about 10,150 square yards of foreskin missing from
the cocks of US males. This represents a square area of 100.75
yards wide and 100.75 yards long. That amounts to more than 2
football (or, to US readers, soccer) pitches! Alternatively, an
acre is 4,840 sq. yards, so the total amount of missing cock
skin adds up to 2.1 acres. Wow! More than _two_ acres! And, for
each victim, two _achers_, that is _balls achers_,  aching
balls, a pain in both testicles, as well! (Figuratively and
metaphorically, that is, the pain is in the balls. In reality
and in practice it is on the cock!) Makes you think, does it
not? The sheer scale of the chopping really turns me on! The
USA currently has the biggest number of circumcised males at
one time and place ever, in recorded history. Great! Long live
circumcision! Long may the chopping continue!

Incidentally, these days, if you would like to see exactly
what, and how much, skin has been lopped, hacked and chopped
off the cocks of American males it is easy to do so. As well as
numerous websites with illustrations of cut dick, there are
some very sexy and amusing discussion groups. My two favourites
are "Cock Shots" and "Cut Cocks." "Cock Shots" is useful for
comparative purposes, since it features men (for example, from
England, France, Germany and Scandinavia) with intact tackle as
well as guys (mainly from the US) who have taken the knife.
From Europe, there are bulky foreskins, purple helmets and
intact frenulums aplenty. This is both irritating and
instructive. It is irritating because I would just love to take
a good, sharp, carbon steel surgical scapular to those
complete, entire European males and rob them of a small but
significant piece of themselves. But hey! On the other hand it
does clearly show just how viciously many circumcised cocks in
the USA have been pruned.

 The "Cut Cocks" group is unbelievable. Many of the guys have
been chopped back so hard that when they are erect it has just
got to hurt. The skin is pulled so tightly up their stiffened
shafts that there is no leeway at all for movement up or down,
and frequently skin from the scrotum is tugged more than half
way up towards the glans. There is one stunning movie clip
called "Tight Cut Hand Job" in which a woman is tugging a young
man's cock up and down, trying to bring him to orgasm. Well,
she is very brisk and firm with him, and she shows him no mercy
as she yanks and pulls at his excited member. But the surgeon
has been so very, very strict with him, and has chopped his
cock with such deft, expert, wicked spite that the lady's best
and most enthusiastic efforts are in vain. The skin up the
young man's shaft is pulled so tight by his erection that it
gleams and glistens; and all of the young lady's violent
ministrations barely move it more than a centimetre or two.
Meanwhile, the lady's violent assault must be leaving the
recipient with a very raw, sore and tender dick!

 Then, posted to the "Cut Cocks" group, there are the dicks
with missing and denuded frenulums. Many of the guys are
photographed facing the camera, with their cocks erect and
their tightened frenulums (or, more usually, their tightened
skin where their frenulums should be), displayed clearly and
visibly to the amused and excited observer. Whenever I get an
email attachment with a frenulum free cock exhibited
unambiguously and unequivocally I always copy it to file. Over
the past few years I have amassed many hundreds, perhaps more
than a thousand, such jpegs. And oh wow! The way those cocks
have been butchered is wicked! As well as the ugly, jagged
scars, the thick brown rings from the gomco clamps, the skin
flaps, the stitch tunnels and the vicious chopping away, not
only of the foreskin, but of the shaft skin lying between it
and the base of the scrotum, there is, worst of all for the
victim, the hacking off of the frenulum. In many cases, where
there should be a generous triangle of stringy, twangy
membrane, all you can see is a completely smooth, bare skin
patch between the underneath of the cockhead and the
circumcision scar. In addition, sometimes there is a wicked
little pit or hollow in the cleft underneath the glans; in
these cases the tip of the frenulum that should be attached to
the cockhead has been rudely and crudely hacked out and
excavated.

At present, for example, as I write this, I am toggling onto
and off the screen a couple of jpegs. One of them is of a big
hulking stud with "Tracy" tattooed in very large letters across
his lower tummy, and with his big, fat cock flopped across his
tattoo and displaying its underside. Oh wow! That is gorgeous.
The cut taken by the cock was inflicted freehand style. There
is no sign of a "brown ring of justice" stamped onto it by a
gomco clamp. It is, indeed, difficult to discern the scar at
all, but if you look closely you can just about make it out.
The cut is low and tight, and, on the underside, it slopes
towards the cock head in a wicked V shape. The result is that
most of the frenulum has been hacked away and replaced by less
sensitive outer skin from lower down the cockshaft. Then, as if
to mock the victim even more cruelly for the barbaric outrage
inflicted upon him, there is a tiny, thin cord of skin, all
that is left of the tip of the frenulum. This is not much
thicker than sewing thread and it stretches a very short
distance from just left of the dimpled ridge underneath the
cock head to the point of the V-shaped scar. Oh wow! Ouch!!!
Has that guy's big, fat, juicy sausage been well skinned! Such
a handsome boy, too! I bet that all of the girls are after him.
I bet that his Tracy is a right little stunner. I bet that when
he gets her into bed with him he enjoys her. But hey! We do not
want our stud to get _too_ overexcited do we? And thanks to his
humbling little snip there is, thank goodness, no danger
whatsoever of that.

The other jpeg is of one of the handsomest men that I have ever
seen, slim and dark with rugged good looks and come-to-bed
eyes. This man looks far too classy to be featured on a porn
shoot; but no, there he is, gazing wistfully out at us ladies,
his face melting our hearts, and his long, stiff tool
moistening our pussies. But hey! Take a look at that tool! I
have never seen anyone cut lower and tighter. Virtually the
whole of the inner foreskin, and every last vestige of the
frenulum, has been hacked away so that the insensitive outer
shaft skin stretches right up to the glans. There is only the
thinnest strip of pink inner foreskin between the outer shaft
skin and the thick, desensitised, keratinised skin of the
cockhead. Wow! Take that big boy! Serves you right for driving
us ladies to lusting distraction and for provoking within us
shameful, guilty fantasies and indecent, sinful thoughts!

So oh, wow, ladies! If you want a good laugh and a sexy turn-on
here is what to do. Create a folder on your computer and save
to it as many jpegs as you can find that feature stiff,
circumcised, frenulum-free cocks. Then run a slide show of
these cocks. Note how smooth and tight they all are on their
undersides just below the glans or cock head. Yes, go on! Gasp,
wince and giggle at the deft, stunning butchery that has been
inflicted on those cocks, and think how many millions of other
US males have suffered the same mutilation. Wow! Chop! Chop!
Chop! Got y'all! Soon your clitorises will stiffen and you will
be all hard and horny. Then, when you have run through the
slideshow a few times pause it and contemplate each mutilated
member at your leisure and in detail. Take your time and study
every image thoroughly. In a very short time your clitorises
will be as stiff as nails, your vulvas as moist and sticky as
honey pots, and you will be tickling and rubbing your love
tunnels to violent, explosive orgasm.

 On the "Cut Cocks" website there are published a number of
polls. One of these invites group members to answer the
question "Do you have a frenulum?" Well, when I last looked
there were a total of 88 votes cast.  Of these 28 (32 percent)
said "yes," 14 (16 percent) said "partial" and 46 (52 percent)
said "no." Wow! A clear majority who, on their own admission,
have been completely robbed of the male body's most sensitive,
erogenous, erotic and pleasurable zone! As the Scottish
comedian, Billy Connelly, might put it: "Outrageous!
Disturbing! Tragic! But _very, very funny_!"

 If, as I strongly suspect, most of the surgeons performed
their mutilations knowingly and intentionally, with malice
aforethought, they will have a lot to answer for on the day of
judgement. They have spitefully and vindictively robbed their
victims of an enormous, an incalculable, amount of sexual
pleasure and, if there is any justice, they will be made to pay
for it. (Whoops! On second thoughts I hope not! I myself am one
of the worst offenders!) The appalling thing is that the guys
who have suffered this outrageous injustice are pouting and
smiling into the cameras, seemingly without an inkling of the
rape and pillage that have been inflicted upon their cocks, or
of the enormous amount of sexual pleasure from which they have
been so cruelly cut off.

  Other sexy internet turn-ons are provided by the various pro-
circumcision websites. Of course, you also get websites that
are frenetically opposed to the practice, and these make all of
the boring if perfectly true points about the calamitous
effects that circumcision has on sexual performance and
enjoyment. But, in addition, there is a small, vociferous
minority who are in favour of the chop, and who post their
eulogies to it, together with some very sexy photographs. Some
of the posters claim to be ladies. There is, for example, a
character called "Wife with a Knife." She says that she is a
surgeon, that she prefers cut cocks, and that she has
circumcised her husband very "low and tight" and chopped off
all of his frenulum. Her claim is supported by an illustrative
photograph of a man's cock that has been mutilated in this
precise fashion, with zero frenulum and no more than a few
millimetres of inner foreskin between the scar around the shaft
skin and the corona of the glans. Then a man purporting to be
the victim of this butchery claims that it was inflicted as a
punishment; his wife had caught him leering at scantily clad
ladies on the beach and had slapped him down. Other, similar,
internet characters include "Lady Chopemard, the Frenulum
Remover," "Circe the Circumciser," and "Nikki the Knifegirl." I
suspect that at least some of these posters are males engaged
in masochistic fantasies. Certainly, there are a number of men
who claim that they have got themselves very tightly
circumcised because it turns them on. I take some of these
claims with a pinch of salt, but there is sometimes a
supporting photograph that illustrates very clearly that
someone, somewhere has definitely taken a very hard, very tight
chop. Oh wow! Masochistic men proffering their pricks from
choice and telling the surgeon to cut off their frenulums and
to chop their cocks hard and tight! I would just love to get a
piece of that action! By the time I had finished with them they
would need to be very, very masochistic not to rue and resent
what I had done to them!

  Mention of my husband a while ago, and of the "Wife with a
Knife" in the previous paragraph, brings me to the next part of
my tale. At the time when I circumcised Maggie's husband, I had
a boy friend called John. I had known him a long time. Since I
had been 15 he had idolised me and had been importuning me to
go out with him. But I was a veritable bitch and I really made
him sweat. It had taken many years before I had condescended to
grant him any favours at all. It was a lot longer than that
before I agreed to go out with him fairly regularly, and even
then I stressed that it was only on a casual basis. As for
getting me into bed with him, he was still a million miles away
from that.

  John had been asking me to marry him for ages, but I had
always refused using the excuse that I wanted to put my career
first. I liked having him around, and I suppose that I was
taking for granted the fact that I could have him whenever I
wanted him. If he had acted the bastard and played the field a
bit I think that he could have made me very jealous, but he was
too besotted and too nice for that.

  My attitude towards John, however, was changing now that I
was coming up to my mid- to late twenties. No handsome, dashing
prince had come to sweep me off my feet. Indeed, I did not even
remotely fancy any other man, even though I often went out with
them, to John's great distress. John was very kind, very nice,
very considerate and very much in love with me. I also had to
admit that he was very good company. Moreover, I wanted
children, and the biological time scale was getting shorter.
Yet I still had this caricature of John as being Mr. Nice, Mr.
Safe and Mr. Boring. As I was to learn well later on, I was
quite wrong. But that was how I felt at the time. Anyhow, that
was the way things stood at the time when I circumcised Jim.

  Jim's little operation, and Maggie's accounts of how she
subsequently tormented and punished him, had sexually excited
me more fiercely than anything else I had ever known. I became
obsessed with circumcision to the extent, as I say, that I
chose a surgical specialism that would enable me to pursue my
interest for the rest of my professional life. From then on,
the mere thought of circumcising a man has always sent a sharp
sexual frisson down my spine. I suppose that, like Maggie, I am
a bit kinky really. I like the thought of dominating men and of
putting my mark on them permanently, and I can think of no
funnier or sexier place to mark them than all around their
cocks. Oh yes, most men are so macho and so proud of their
willies that a little snip in the appropriate place is the
perfect comeuppance for their inflated sexual egos! But I
digress. You know all this already because I told you earlier.

  A month after I had circumcised Jim, John asked me to marry
him again. He had done this dozens of times before. But this
time he got a shock. I said yes. Well, not quite yes. What I
actually said was yes but... The marriage would only take
place, I added, if John was prepared to let me circumcise him,
to my satisfaction, first. John, of course, had heard all about
how I had circumcised Jim, and he knew how circumcision turned
me on. Nevertheless, and to my surprise, he immediately agreed
to my kinky, not to say preposterous, proposal, even though,
unlike Maggie's Jim, he had done absolutely nothing to deserve
such a painful, embarrassing and humiliating mutilation. As
with Jim, John was booked to be chopped at 8 a.m. on a Saturday
morning.

  My build up to the operation was similar to Maggie's. The
night before the operation I invited John round to my flat and
cooked him a sumptuous candlelit meal with all the trimmings
(including, later, I teased, a trimming for his cock!). Then we
sat on the settee and, for the first time ever, I allowed John
the privilege of a spot of heavy petting. I will not give a
full account. Suffice to say that soon John was stripped to his
shirt and underpants, and me to my bra and knickers and we were
writhing around helplessly. Then we undressed each other
completely and lay there naked with our two bodies ecstatically
entwined together. John fingered me to two orgasms, working on
my breasts, vulva and other erogenous zones with a skill that
took me completely by surprise. In return I worked my fiancée
to a total of four orgasms, using my hands, the insides of my
thighs and, finally, my mouth and tongue. When he tried to shag
me though I was very strict with him. I told him that he would
only enjoy _that_ privilege after he had been cut. "Your
foreskin" I confirmed, "will never enter my pussy. You will
never enjoy me perfectly. You do not deserve that much
pleasure!" Wow! What a bitch I was to him! John, however, was
distinctly over-excited by what he _was_ getting. He had waited
for this for more than 12 years, and now that he was getting it
he was so ecstatic and excited that I found it distinctly
unnerving. As his orgasms approached I had him threshing around
in the wildest abandon with his arms and legs flying
everywhere, his body writhing helplessly, and his mouth
uttering involuntary grunts and helpless little screams. "Oh,
my God!" he screamed as I brought him off for the third time
with some delicious little darting flicks from my moist tongue.
"You're so skilful. You're so damned skilful." "Of course I am"
I replied pertly through my mouthful of glans, frenulum, shaft
and foreskin. "I'm no naive virgin like some I could name.
Practice makes perfect. Yours isn't the first cock I've had in
my mouth, young man, and it won't be the first to get up my
pussy. With me, youthful sir, you are acquiring a very
experienced and accomplished lady." Now in retrospect I realise
that this was a cruel gibe, and well out of order. It was way
out of line to tease John about his long maintained virginity,
concerning which he was very sensitive and embarrassed. And it
was unforgivable to boast in such a bold and triumphalist way
about my past sexual exploits to a jealous and as yet
unrequited lover. In the short term, however, my mockery had
the intended effect. It jolted John over the edge. "Oh, you
bitch!" he groaned in ecstasy. "You randy, horny, spiteful,
venomous bitch! How dare you tease and torment me because I
have been faithful while you have been opening your legs for
the dick of any Tom or Harry who took your fancy. Oh, God. You
deserve a bloody good thrashing for that, my girl, and no
mistake. Oh! Oooh!! _Oooooh_!!!" I did not fancy swallowing on
that occasion, and I just managed to get John's cock out of my
mouth before he ejaculated. When he did, despite his previous
two emissions, he scattered spunk all over the ceiling--a
tribute, as John has since admitted, to the effectiveness of my
spiteful, kinky verbals.

  Not that that was the end of said spiteful and kinky verbals,
since I then began to tease John about his forthcoming
operation, whispering seductively into his ear. "Look at this
foreskin", I said, bursting into verse:

"It's lengthy and loose
 Like a long necked goose.
 It's baggy and saggy, limp and slack
 But watch out boys I'll chop it back
 Your penis I will rip and snip
 I'll tear you off a big thick strip
 Your prepuce I will make you doff
 I'll bacon slice your foreskin off.
 I'll cut your cock and trim it sprightly
 I'll circumcise it very tightly
 I'll trap it firm and when it's caught
 I'll strip and skin it nice and taut."

 I had composed these ditties in advance to turn me on and to
wind John up, and they achieved both of these objectives
beautifully! Nor did John's torment end with his operation. He
has continued to be the butt of my saucy wit and ribald mickey
taking now that he has taken the chop. For example, I will quip
and give him lip and jip that I was the girl to clip, nip,
snip, rip and strip his tip, hassle his tassel, dock his cock,
rob his knob and make it throb, snip his prick, trim his wick,
nail his stale, flail his tail and make him wail and rail, nick
his pullover and give him a chilly willie. I perform these
verses in a rhythmic and declamatory style, after the fashion
of Eminem and similar pop stars, and I give them the generic
title of "The Cock Rap." Then I will start to tease my husband
about his prick tip or glans. Before I cut the foreskin from
off it a thin, delicate membrane of exquisitely sensitive,
purple coloured skin covered it. Now, however, his bell end has
calloused over and cornified into a thick, hardened,
desensitised knob. During our lovemaking I will flick up and
down across the tip of this knob with my fingers and knuckles.
"Wow!" I will say admiringly. "You've gone all thick and
leathery down there, young man, like well tanned pigskin or
cowhide. Yes, my boy! I've given your cock head a good tanning
and no mistake!" To which John will reply (see below for
reference): "Yes, my girl, and I have whipped your hip and
tanned you too!"
 
  Now, dear reader, before I give an account of how I
circumcised John, I think that I need to tell you about my two
main styles of circumcision, the messy and the neat.

First, let me expound upon the messy style. This is my
favourite method, and it is the one that, as I have told you
elsewhere, I inflicted upon the husband of my best friend to
pay him back for committing adultery against her. Messy
circumcisions are performed briskly, smartly, carelessly,
insouciantly, and at speed. Cosmetic considerations are of the
utmost unimportance and indifference to the surgeon, whose sole
concern is that the absolute minimum amount of valuable and
expensive time should be wasted upon a procedure that is minor,
trivial and routine. The surgeon aims for a comprehensive chop,
but, acting in haste, may cut off either slightly less, or
considerably more, skin than usual. When the chopping is over,
the stitching up of the wound is also performed with the utmost
pace, carelessness and gay abandon. The result is a battered,
beat up cock sporting an ugly, livid scar and, most probably, a
number of skin flaps and stitch tunnels to boot. When the wound
is healed the result is usually similar to the cock of an adult
circumcised as a neonate. In the latter case, however, the same
effect was obtained because of the difficulty of cutting a very
small cock with any precision. Any small error made by a
surgeon circumcising a baby, such, for example, as the creation
of a small skin flap or stitch tunnel, is magnified as the cock
grows bigger. (See above.) Also, many people who circumcise
babies are amateurs rather than trained consultants, and they
are often not very precise in the first place. This, perhaps,
is why they refer to the circumcision of a Jewish baby at 8
days old as a “brisk.” The mohel “briskly” chops off the
offending foreskin!

Of course, the ultimate extension of this line of thinking is
for the surgeon to delegate all neonatal cock cutting to a
nurse. I have seen this advocated by at least one writer. The
argument, as stated above, is that circumcision is a trite and
trivial operation, and that surgeons have much more important
things to do than to perform it. It is something that a nurse
can easily be trained up to do, and that should therefore be
“deskilled.” Actually, I quite like the idea. “Circumcise those
six baby boys, will you nurse. I am going now.” Circumcision is
a mutilation that many victims curse, fret and fume about. What
a wind up for them to discover that the surgeon was so heedless
and insensitive to their fate that she delegated the work to a
minion and went home early! And yet, I do not think that I
could ever agree to let someone else perform one of my
circumcisions, even of a neonate, for me. I like to make sure,
each and every time, that I perform a thorough job, and, who
knows, perhaps the nurse might just be a little bit too
cautious and conservative in her chopping!

  The alternative to the messy circumcision is the neat one.
This is the method that I usually employ, since most of my
victims are adults who would notice and resent a messy cut.
This is a pity, since I prefer the messy method. But, on the
other hand, there is something kinky about performing such a
barbarous operation with finesse and precision. I remember a
news story, from Saudi Arabia I think. It claimed that the
authorities were still amputating hands as a punishment for
robbery but that, instead of just cutting them off they were
removing them neatly in hospital, with anaesthetics and
qualified surgeons. Now that really _is_ sick! But when I do
exactly the same thing with foreskins I think that it is a
kinky hoot. Then, if I stitch up the underside of the cock
neatly the victim assumes that the removal of the frenulum is
normal practice (or, at least, all of my victims have so far,
touch wood). In short, it is easier to get away with a tight
cut if it is also a neat one.

  But I digress. I seem to remember that I left John and me
engaged in a spot of heavy petting. Well, in order to have
John’s cock to hand for a prompt 8 a.m. chop, I let him sleep
with me that night. Wow! Did he try to cash in and take
liberties! However, I let him go so far but no further. As soon
as his stiffened cock got anywhere near my pussy I warned him
off, and I told him that, unless he was very careful, he would
pay for his indiscretions in the morning.

  That morning I lay awake from about 6 a.m. with John asleep
in my arms, and I had a good long think about what I was about
to do. I seriously considered letting the victim off the hook
and cancelling the operation. I certainly did not want to give
him an uncomfortably tight, messy cut. After all, his cock
would soon belong to me and I did not want to make it unusable
or ugly. Then I remembered what Maggie had done to Jim. She had
asked me to preserve his foreskin in a jar of formaldehyde; it
was now on the dresser by her bedside, and she constantly used
it to tease and torment her husband. Well, there was enough of
the dominatrix in me to want to exercise that sort of authority
over John. I was sexually stimulated by the kinkiness of
circumcision and I knew that, whatever its physiological
consequences, it would, from a psychological point of view,
spice up our sex life. So I decided to go for it.
     
  At 7 a.m. I woke John up, and told him to take a shower. When
he returned, he got into bed with me, and I affectionately
snuggled up to him until it was 8 o’clock. By now I was filled
with misgivings, and I was having second thoughts. “Come on,
love.” I whispered affectionately. “Strip off and lie across
the bed. Let’s get this over with.” Then, screwing my courage
to the sticking point, I did it. For the first (and, I am
firmly resolved, the last) time in my life I did not go for a
tight, savage cut. I trimmed John by the book and followed the
instructions in the surgeon’s manual to the letter, so that the
victim emerged with his frenulum more or less intact, and a
small cuff of skin that, I surmised, should be just enough to
pull over his engorged corona when his cock was stiff and
excited. I also carved that cock as if it were a gift fit for
the gods; my surgery was painstaking, neat and precise. I could
not, however, resist a few kinky verbals during and after the
surgery, especially when I clamped the stretched out foreskin
between two glass plates and plopped it into the large jar of
formaldehyde.

  I was really quite moved at the way that John submitted to
his circumcision. He did not like being cut, and he did not
like being wound up and teased about it by me. But he took it
like a man, freely, cheerfully and with no second thoughts or
regrets. He referred to it as "paying the bride price", adding
gallantly that the bride was very lovely, and worth every
square millimetre of foreskin. Even in the few days after his
operation, when he was exquisitely raw, sore and tender, he
took the pain and the humiliation bravely, stoically, and
without rancour, waiting patiently for me to pronounce his
wound well healed, and to tell him that he could claim his
prize.

  Now, a brief digression, dear reader. By now, especially if
you are male, my narrative may well appal you. Who do I think I
am, you may be asking, to go around insouciantly mutilating and
disfiguring my innocent and unsuspecting victims? I bet you are
itching for me to get my comeuppance, are you not? Well, as you
will now find out, I _did_ get what was coming to me, and I got
it in spades.

  Several years earlier I had been holidaying with John and
some other friends in France. One day, John and I were shopping
in a supermarket when, in the section devoted to pets, he
noticed that there were some martinets for sale. I had never
seen a martinet before, and I asked John to explain about it.
The martinet, John replied, is a small whip, popular in France.
It has a round wooden handle about 10.5 inches long. Securely
nailed around the end of this handle are about 12 leather
thongs, each roughly 13 inches long, half a centimetre broad
and half a centimetre thick. He added that the martinet had
been invented in the eighteenth century by a French general of
that name who was employed at the French army's top officer
training camp at St. Cyr, the French equivalent of Sandhurst
(UK) and West Point (USA). According to John, General Martinet
spent his entire life developing an implement that was suitable
for the corporal punishment of young trainee officers. It was
applied, said John, across their bare buttocks. "Wow, oh wow!"
he mused wistfully. "A pound to a pinch of shit that the old
chap was a homosexual. I bet he just loved to get nice young
men into his office. `Take down your trousers and bend over the
desk, you naughty boy.' Then crack, crack, crack! The dirty old
pervert! I bet he really enjoyed himself!"

  Next, John carefully selected one of these martinets,
inspected it, and counted the twelve thongs. "What on earth
would it be used for these days?" I asked. "They have put it in
the pet section as though it is for whipping recalcitrant dogs
and similar" answered John. "But I don't believe for one moment
that that is the main use." And he paused. "Go on then!" I
urged. "Well", said John, "I think that today most of these are
used by Frenchmen to smack their wives' bottoms." My first
response to this answer was to giggle saucily. But then I began
to inspect the martinet more closely. It was, I concluded, an
inhumane and vicious little whip, and far too cruel to use on
animals, let alone on ladies. I imagined it whistling through
the air and landing across those ladies' bare bottoms. I could
almost hear the loud swish as the thongs cut through the
atmosphere. Then there would be the sharp crack, as so
graphically described by John, when the whip hit home. I
imagined the lashing thongs cutting into unprotected skin and
raising livid red stripes and angry weals on the bare flesh.
Soon my initial amusement had turned into disbelief, horror and
outrage.

  John then went on to hypothesise about why French husbands
should impose such strict discipline on their wives. He
explained that French ladies were very beautiful and very sexy.
They could also be very randy, he added. Wifely adultery and
infidelity were a constant threat for many Frenchmen and, when
they _were_ cuckolded, they feared the public ridicule almost
as much as the loss of their wife's affections. They thus
needed something to keep these lively and vivacious ladies in
line, and for this purpose the martinet was the preferred
implement. The hope, frequently frustrated, was that married
ladies would be in sufficient awe of its lashing thongs across
their bare bottoms that they would not run amok and bed too
many lovers.

  This was the first indication that I had ever had that John
was turned on by spanking and flagellation. He was clearly
indulging in a sexual fantasy, and at first I took his
interpretation with a pinch of salt. However, having observed
many of these French ladies on the beach sporting the most
daring and provocative swimwear I was at length forced to
concur that his analysis sounded reasonable. Any gentleman
lucky enough to marry one on those beauties, I affirmed
jocularly, had come into the possession of a very valuable and
desirable piece of real estate, and it was understandable that
he should wish to defend his property rights over it and to
discourage unauthorised trespassers. However, I protested
vehemently that in this day and age it was well out of order
for a man to whip his wife's bare bottom with such a cruel and
barbaric implement. John, however, was clearly turned on by the
thought. He grinned lasciviously and quietly dropped the
martinet he had been inspecting into our shopping trolley. "You
never know", he concluded slyly. "Someday I may marry a French
lady, and, if I ever do, I may need it."

  Anyway, let me return to my main narrative. It took John’s
cock more than eight weeks before it had healed up and was
fucking good again. Then, one day when I inspected it, it
seemed to be fully mended. “O.K.” I said, “I’ll be at your
place at 8 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning for a final official
inspection, and, with luck, a complete health clearance.”

  When I arrived I let myself in. (John had given me a key to
his house shortly after I had agreed to marry him. He had tried
unsuccessfully to do this before, but this time I accepted it.)
I discovered my fiancé asleep and in bed. I woke him gently and
when he was fully _compos mentis_ I asked him to strip off and
present himself for inspection. “Yes,” I said. “This cock is
now fully healed and I pronounce it ready for use.” Then I
paused. “There is one thing, though.” And something in the tone
of my voice made John (as I had intended) uneasy. “What’s up,”
he asked in a concerned voice. “Well,” I said pertly. “Now that
I have seen your circumcised cock I don’t think that I like
it.” I paused. “No,” I said insouciantly, “I’m afraid that the
wedding is off.” There was then a pregnant pause while this
sunk in.

  Then came John’s first reaction. To my deep mortification and
chagrin, he began to sob helplessly, like a small child that
had fallen over and hurt itself. “You mean,” he wept fiercely,
“That it was all a joke? A jape? To circumcise me and then to
just walk away after you had had the kinky pleasure of cutting
me? And now you will laugh at me and mock me about it for the
duration? Oh, Jill, you know how much I love you. That is
cruel, that is so cruel.” If John had been looking at me he
might have grasped the truth and not gone off at half cock; but
instead he completely bought the line that I was selling him.
He collapsed, face down, onto the bed and blubbered helplessly
in resentment and frustration.

  Well, that did it. I am a kinky bitch I admit, and I fancied
a bit of the dominatrix in our relationship; but I am not that
kinky, and my lover’s outburst moved me deeply. I grabbed him
by the shoulders and hauled him up into a sitting position.
Then I threw my arms around him and comforted him. “It’s all
right, love. It’s all right. Come on. Don’t cry. Do you know
what day it is?” “No.” sobbed John helplessly. “It’s the 1st of
the 4th,” I said. “Gotcha! You, young man, are an _April
fool_!” But there was no triumph in my voice. Just a tone that
indicated that I wanted to make everything all right again, and
that I deeply regretted my misplaced joke.

  Soon, however, I was to regret it a lot more than that. In
all the years that I had known John up to that moment I had
never, ever, seen him lose his temper. He did now, though, and
big time. The revelation of my merry little jape nonplussed
him, but only for about 2 seconds. Then he gave an enormous
howl of relief, frustration, and, most of all, blind rage. He
stretched and reached down onto the floor between the bed and
the wall and picked something up from underneath the table
where he kept his Teasmade. Then he sat on the side of the bed,
grabbed me by the arm, and tossed me across his knee. As for
me, at first I was shocked but pleased. I had been trying to
goad John into anger for years, and it looked like at last I
had succeeded.

  “You scheming temptress,” he yelled. “For years you have been
acting the bitch and keeping me at arms’ length. You have been
shagging around with other men, and treating me with contempt.
And I have been stupid enough to play your little power games.
But no more, this is the end of it. Now it’s payback time. As
far as I am concerned, you can fuck off. You can stuff your
fucking wedding up your arsehole.” Then up came my skirt, down
came my knickers, and before I had time to work it all out,
there was a swish, followed by a loud, sharp crack.

  Then I felt it, a sharp and excruciating sting right slap
across the middle of my two bared buttocks. It was as if a
solid phalanx of bees had hit them and were now all stinging
the naked flesh in unison. Then, after a few seconds a fierce
tingling and throbbing supplemented the initial sharp stinging.
“Oh, no!” I thought to myself. “That was the martinet that John
picked up from the floor; and I bet that by the time he has
finished I will be all too well acquainted with it.” Then, a
few seconds later, there came a second loud swish and crack.
“Aaaagh!” I yelled helplessly. This second fierce lash was laid
directly onto the same part of my bum that had taken the first
one, and it hurt like hell. I screamed and howled plenty, but I
was of slight build, a mere 5’ 3” tall, and I was no physical
match for John. He held me firmly over his knee as he counted
out the lashes. “Two,” he declared after the second swipe had
hit home.


  And so it went on. John gave me twenty lashes, each just as
fierce as the one before it, with a pause between each one to
give me plenty of time to feel it. After the first dozen he had
broken me; I was sobbing helplessly and screaming for
forgiveness, pity, and mercy. But I did not get it. Instead,
John continued his merciless trip hammering with the 12-thonged
martinet. Then John lifted me roughly and threw me the other
way over his knees. Then he took a brief time out to explain
his game plan.

  Now I am not myself Jewish, but my mother’s father was, and
John now used this fact to determine my punishment. In honour
of my granddad, he told me, he was giving me a flogging that
accorded with Hebrew Old Testament Law and with the Pentateuch,
namely 39 lashes. Then he passed the whip into his left hand
and gave me lash number 21.

  Now, dear reader, for every single one of those first 20
lashes, the martinet had fairly whistled through the air, and
had struck home with a series of sharp, high-pitched cracks.
The sting was terrific, especially from the fast flying ends of
the thongs. My right buttock had taken these stinging ends of
the thongs for those first 20 lashes, and it hurt like hell.
Then, when John turned me around, for the next 19 swats my left
buttock caught the brunt of the stinging. Worse still, although
these latter hits were inflicted with the left hand, John
seemed to be ambidextrous, and his left arm came down with just
as much punitive force as his right one.

  By now, I was completely out of control. My arms and legs
were flailing about helplessly, and I was howling and sobbing
plenty. “Please, please, no more!” I shrieked helplessly. “I’m
sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do that again, I promise. Please,
please stop!”

  But, for the last dozen lashes or so, I began to be overtaken
by another wave of emotion. To my distinct surprise, my crotch
began to throb and my pussy started to tingle. I felt the heat
between my legs as my bottom started to ride up and down in
unison with the slashes, rising in eager anticipation of the
cruel but arousing kiss of the whip. For the last 6 cuts I was
no longer begging for mercy; I was groaning ecstatically. By
now my pussy was dripping wet and the sticky liquid was
dribbling down onto John’s naked thighs. Meanwhile, as lust
started to take over from pain I became aware of John’s hard,
erect manhood pressing into my crotch.

  The final slap, number 39, was a beauty. It cracked onto skin
that by then was red, raw and broken, with tiny drops of blood
oozing from the lacerations. “Aaaagh!” I yelled, far louder
than any of my previous cries, and in that yell was unbearable
pain and exquisite pleasure mixed together into a heady
concoction that left me hovering right on the brink of orgasm.

  Then it was over and John threw me roughly onto the bed. By
now I was completely out of control. I pulled off my shoes and
ripped my clothes from my body so that I was completely naked.
Then I jumped on John, hugging and kissing him passionately.
Then I grabbed his stiff, circumcised cock and rammed it
unceremoniously into my dripping wet pussy slot. Immediately,
both John and I erupted into a violent and explosive mutual
orgasm. Then John, still very excited, just kept on pumping.
Within the next 15 minutes John had climaxed again, and I had
come another 3 times.

  Later that morning, John and I were relaxing together in his
bed. He had turned on the Teasmade and brewed some oolong tea.
I left off sipping it, however, to go over to the wardrobe
mirror to inspect my bottom. It was covered in ugly weals,
bruises and lacerations that would probably take at least 2 or
3 weeks to go away. “Oh, wow, love!” exclaimed John
sympathetically, as I ruefully examined the damage, “What have
I done to you?” “Well you’ve well striped my arse for me,” I
said admiringly. “But not to worry. You were right. I’ve been a
kinky bitch to you for years. I was well out of order to sleep
around and to torment you with my lovers. And I was well wrong
to insist on circumcising you. You had done nothing to deserve
it. And the April fool joke, what was _that_ about? Definitely
out of order! Well, now I’ve got my comeuppance. You have
taught me a painful lesson. You are a man, not a mouse, and now
that I belong to you I had better treat you better.” As I made
this profession, it suddenly hit me, the blindingly obvious
truth that I should have known all along. For years I had been
deliberately treating John as if he were dog shit in an attempt
(until now vain) to goad him into a reaction. Well, I had had
to sink pretty low to get it, but now his reaction had come.
John had balls after all, even if, as of now, he had no
foreskin. Oh, yes! I would continue to tease John about his
circumcision, and I would try it on to boss him around and keep
him under my thumb. But in future I had better beware. There
were limits that I would cross at my peril. Yes, I thought, now
that we had got that out of the way, my marriage to John might
turn out to be very interesting!

  This, however, was all for the future. At that moment I had
far more pressing and urgent problems to attend to. I slept on
my tummy that night, wincing and cursing, with my bottom bare
to the air. Meanwhile, John, now once more the considerate
lover, sympathetically rubbed plenty of soothing camomile
lotion into my cuts and lacerations. Four times that night,
however, I had something else rubbed into me. John’s
circumcised cock took me twice from behind, and twice from the
front. Concerning these last two bonks there was good news and
bad news. The good news was that John took me in the missionary
position, woman on top variation to ease the pain in my rump.
The bad news is that, as I approached orgasm he started to give
me sharp, wicked little flicks from the martinet, synchronised
with the thrusts of his pelvis and cock shaft. OK! So it
brought me off. But on flesh already freshly whipped the thongs
of that martinet stung like hell, and my bottom felt like it
was on fire!
     
  That summer John and I were married, and I thus became Mrs.
Jillian Philpott. Since then, John and I have had 4 children, 2
girls and 2 (uncircumcised) boys, and we are hoping for more. I
still keep John’s severed foreskin in a jar on my side of the
bed, and I constantly tease him about it. Usually he takes it
in good part; he realises that circumcision is my kink, and he
still loves me. If I go too far, however, I am likely to end up
across his knee, although now the preferred implements of
chastisement are the flat of his hand and/or a thin, floppy
rubber spatula purchased from an Internet sex shop. (Ouch, that
spatula stings like hell! But on the other hand, a few sharp
slaps from it across the plump buttock meat adjacent to the
cunt slot as I am approaching orgasm is guaranteed to push me
over the edge!) John has, of course, carefully retained his
martinet, but he tells me that I will only ever get it again if
I am _very_ naughty. Oh well! Some day, when I can work up the
bottle for it, I must contrive to be a really bad girl again!

  As for my attitude to circumcision, it is still the same. I
still circumcise every man I can as tightly as I can, despite
John’s protestations that I am a cruel, kinky bitch, and
despite the swats from the spatula that I get if I am too
boastful. I am sorry, I tell him, but I cannot help myself.

  For me, circumcision is a delightful sport, and it has all
sorts of interesting little aspects to explore. I do not think
I will ever exhaust its never-ending charm. Let me give you a
couple of examples of what I mean. John, as I say, has more or
less accepted his cut state. Indeed, he even makes rueful jokes
about it. And, I can affirm, it has _not_ affected his ability
to do the necessary to me in bed. Indeed, my husband has made
up a number of little verses about this. Here is one of them
entitled "John's Circumcised Cock", which he sometimes regales
me with in moments of intimacy:

"Gnarled and pitted, chopped and scarred,
 But up your cunt and fuck you hard."

  Now, dear reader, as I have explained above, one of the
effects of circumcision-- infuriating to those who have taken
it and sexy and amusing to those who have not-- is that it
pulls and stretches the skin taut along the length of the erect
penis. It thereby, to paraphrase the poet T.S. Eliot apropos of
something else, "tightens its lusts and luxuries." Stemming
from this, one of my favourite tricks is to strip John naked
and to get him to stand with his legs slightly apart. I then
kneel down in front of him. With my right hand I grasp his
cock. I place my thumb underneath the shaft, just below the
point where the circumcision scar cuts across it. My forefinger
and my middle finger I place on the upper side of the shaft,
again just below the scar. Then I tickle and scratch John's
balls with the fingers and, in particular, with the
fingernails, of my left hand, while tugging at his cock with my
right. Soon John's cock is rock hard and ready for the punch
line.

  For this, I stop tickling John's scrotum. I remove my left
hand and let his bollocks hang free. Then, firmly and
rhythmically, I start to tug John's shaft skin forward, up and
down the shaft, wanking him off. As I am kneeling with my eyes
a couple of inches from his crotch I get an excellent view of
what is happening. Two things I find particularly sexy.
Firstly, no matter how hard I tug John's shaft skin up and down
his cock (and I am pretty firm with him!), it never comes
anywhere near to covering his cock head. The glans, now that
the foreskin has been snipped off it, remains exposed
throughout. It has no hiding place to conceal its embarrassing
nakedness. Secondly, as I yank John's shaft skin forward, it
pulls after it the skin of the scrotum from the point where
this is joined to the base of the cock. The result is that my
saucy tugs cause my lover's balls to dance a merry and vigorous
jig. Yes, if I do it right I can really make his bollocks fly!

  John finds being circumcised very embarrassing. I found this
out when, just after we got married, we went on holiday to the
south Atlantic coast of France.

  On that coast there are a lot of nude beaches, usually just
beyond the family beaches away from the access roads. Knowing
that John is a great admirer of feminine nubility I suggested
to him that we might pay one of these beaches a visit. To my
surprise, however, he did not seem too keen on the idea. "Come
on," I said encouragingly. "You have taken your circumcision;
you have paid the sex tax. I won't mind if you lust after a few
naked young ladies. I'll just give willie a few rough
disciplinary tweaks around his circumcision scar when I get him
into bed tonight." Well, after a little cajoling of this sort I
could see that John was stimulated by my plan. He eventually
agreed to go along with it, but I could see that he still had
misgivings.

  When we arrived at the beach it was full of beautiful young
people, and a few older punters. For some reason a lot more
young ladies than young men were besporting themselves, and
every single one of them was butt naked. There were, among
others, petite, dark French girls, well-built English belles
and, John's favourites, tall, strapping, buxom blonde beauties
from Germany and Scandinavia. There was a group of three
particularly fetching German Rhine maidens just in front of us,
all standing up with their pneumatic boobs, big bums, long,
meaty thighs and blonde haired pussies perfectly positioned for
close and meticulous scrutiny. I could see that John was
stunned. "Careful, big boy" I warned saucily. "Three pussies
admired already. That's three snakebite twists around his scar
that stiff willie has earned for himself so far. Just you wait
until to-night!" John grinned lasciviously. "Wow! Oh wow!" he
said lecherously. "I'll take them right on the scar tissue, and
as hard as you like. Those lovelies are well worth it!"

  John was rather less enthusiastic, however, when I removed my
bikini top, pertly pulled off my pants and exposed my naked
charms to the admiring gaze of other males. "Well! Come on
then!" I cajoled, pointing at John's swimming trunks. "Get 'em
off!" At this point my spouse began to look uncomfortable, but
eventually he removed his swimming trunks and stood there
naked.

  Now that was when it got interesting. Circumcision, I have
now learnt, is quite rare in Germany and Scandinavia, and John
was the only circumcised man on the beach. I watched the
reactions, and I could tell that his cut cock was exciting
considerable interest, discreet but definite. The Rhine maidens
grinned, giggled and whispered things to each other. I caught
some comment that I was just about able to translate with the
help of my GCSE German. It was to the effect that the man in
front of them must be an American. Meanwhile, similar interest
was generated in a young French couple lying in front of us as
they looked back up the beach. The problem was that all this
did not go on for long, because although John was embarrassed
he was also turned on. His circumcised cock began to grow to
tumescence, and he was forced to lie on his front to hide its
embarrassing state from its interested spectators.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++

EPILOGUE

  In conclusion, dear reader, pray allow me to return to the
topic of my best friend, Maggie Phillips. Where, you might ask,
did her brilliant and appropriate idea to have her husband
circumcised for his adultery come from? (See ASSTR 08.) Well, I
can tell you the answer to that one. Maggie has a brother,
Billie, who is 5 years older than her. Just before his
seventeenth birthday Billie suffered a bad attack of phimosis.
As a result he was the unwilling victim of a circumcision; and
ever since he has protested loudly and vigorously about his
mutilation. One must presume that, before he was rudely cut
short, Billie, like almost all male teenagers, had been
enjoying a series of illicit but deliciously pleasurable sexual
encounters with Mrs. Hand and her five beautiful daughters. How
he must have enjoyed pulling his long, sensitive inner foreskin
up and over his deliciously tender and delicate purple cock
head! But alas! After the short, sharp, sudden shock of an
embarrassing and painful operation, Billie’s foreskin was no
longer there and his cock head soon calloused over into a
thick, rubbery bell-end. Unlike men who have been circumcised
neonatally, Billie knew just exactly what it was that he was
missing. He did not like it one little bit, and, to Maggie’s
considerable amusement, he howled plenty! Is it any wonder,
therefore, that, having seen its effect upon her outraged
brother, a shrewd, saucy and intelligent girl like Maggie
should decide to enforce circumcision upon her adulterous
spouse? Wow! What a comeuppance! Wallop! Bull’s eye!

  But that is not the end of the anecdote. When he was 25
Billie got involved with a girl who was ten years younger than
him. Even worse, he got her pregnant. Well, from Billie’s point
of view, all turned out well. He married his young lover,
Jasmine, soon after her sixteenth birthday. Then, a few months
later, Jasmine had her first child. In the next few years
Jasmine bore Billie a total of four children, three girls and a
boy. Jasmine and the children were well looked after. By the
time he was into his mid-twenties Billie had finished at
university and had a good and well-paid job.

  But Jasmine paid a price for her security and her material
comforts. She is a beautiful and intelligent girl of South
Asian ethnic origin. She was enrolled at the same top girls
grammar school that Maggie and I went to, and she was hoping to
go on to medical school. However, the antics of Billie’s
overactive cock rudely cut short Jasmine’s education and her
medical career, and for this I hated him and it. In my view,
Billie should have been prosecuted for seducing an underage
girl who was a decade his junior.

  The worst of that little incident is now over. On the
positive side Billie and Jasmine are still, 8 years after their
initial bonk, besotted with each other. Britain needs doctors,
and these days the medical schools encourage mature applicants.
I am hoping that Jasmine will allow me to guide and advise her,
and that she will one day resume her studies. With two
supportive grannies to help look after the kids, I am keeping
my fingers crossed that, by her mid-thirties, Jasmine will have
made it into medicine.

  That is not to say, however, that I personally had forgiven
Billie for taking advantage of Jasmine while she was a
beautiful, naïve, and under-aged virgin. Billie’s cock had
already been circumcised once, but I could think of a few more
things that I would have liked to have done to it to pay it
back for its selfishness, and its irresponsible indulgence in
illicit, sybaritic pleasures. “Give me my trusty knife,” I
would fantasize to myself, “And bring me Billie’s cock; I will
give it something that it will wish that it had not taken!” And
then, amazingly, I got my chance to do just that. Let me
explain to you how this came about.

  Maggie, Jasmine, our three husbands and I maintain a close
social life, and we frequently dine together. At a dinner party
a short time ago the discussion got around to circumcision, of
which all three of the men folk are now victims. As he has done
before, Billie complained vigorously that his circumcision
should never have been inflicted, and, even if it was, it
should not have been so messy or so severe. Well, jokingly, I
offered to inspect it for him and give him my professional
opinion. At first, everyone, including me, thought that I was
joking. But then Jasmine piped up. “You know, Billie, that
really is a good idea. Everything seems fine to me, but you
have got a real hang-up about it. Why don’t you let Jill put
your mind at rest once and for all?”

  Anyway, at that point we let the matter drop from our
conversation. A few days later, however, I got a phone call
from Jasmine. Had I meant what I had said at the dinner party
last Saturday night? The upshot was that a few days later
Billie called around to my surgery for a willie assessment. I
asked him to strip from the waist down, and to stand upon a
table that presented his cock to me at eye level. Then I
started to inspect it. I held the shaft between my thumb and
forefinger, just below the annular scar. Then I inspected the
scar. It was, indeed, a messy job. The circumcising surgeon had
paid little heed or consideration to cosmetic questions. “Hum,”
I remarked. “The wound has healed up all ugly and pockmarked.
And look. Here. There is a large stitch tunnel cutting under
the scar on the underside of shaft.”

  Meanwhile, something was happening that fascinated me, but
that also made me very angry. Billie’s cock started to go hard
and engorged in my hand! I took this as a sign that he was
inappropriately stimulated that a young lady 5 years his junior
was embracing his manhood. Soon the offending weapon was as
stiff as a poker. I looked upwards, straight into Billie’s
eyes, and, to be fair to him, he was not leering at me in a
predatory fashion. No, he looked very, very ashamed and
extremely embarrassed at what his willie was up to. So, while
pretending to get on with my impassive and impartial analysis
of the weapon in question, I decided to do a little prick
teasing, and to have a bit of fun with Billie. I gently tugged
Billie’s shaft skin towards his cockhead. “Yes,” I commented.
“You circumcision is rather slack. See. A little flap of
foreskin has been left here, and if I tug hard I can just pull
it over the rim of your glans.” As I did this, I watched
Billie’s face closely. He winced with pleasure and
embarrassment, but I could detect no sign of inappropriate
interest in me, or that he was regarding me as anything other
than a professional surgeon. Then I gently scratched underneath
Billie’s cock shaft, just above the stitch tunnel on his
circumcision scar. In response, I felt Billie’s cock stiffen
still further, and I heard a helpless, ecstatic groan. “What do
you feel,” I asked. “Not as much as I used to,” sighed my
victim ruefully. “Yes, I remarked. “There is no vestige of
frenulum underneath the penile shaft, at the point where it
joins the base of the glans. That has been completely excavated
by the surgery. So, on the plus side you have a small flap of
foreskin, but on the minus side you have an ugly scar with
stitch tunnel and skin flap, and no frenulum. But count
yourself lucky, young man. In many cases that I inspect both
foreskin and frenulum have been completely cut off. Anyway, the
good news is that, if you want me to, I could tidy you up down
there. On the plus side, I can remove your skin flap and the
ugly scar caused by careless surgery. On the minus side, if I
do that, it will mean removing a little more of your vestigial
foreskin.

  Well, that was the end of our consultation. I told Billie to
get dressed and, to save him from further embarrassment, I left
the room. I heard nothing from Billie or Jasmine for several
weeks, and I assumed that the matter was now closed. Then, to
my amazement, I had a phone call from Jasmine. Did I mean what
I said, she asked, about tidying up Billie’s cock? Wow! As soon
as I clocked the question the blood rushed to my cheeks and my
heart started to pound fiercely against my ribcage. “Of
course,” I said, doing my best to sound calm, professional and
matter of fact.
     
  The rest, as they say, is history. Billie and Jasmine were
worried about the cost of the surgery, and whether they could
get it on the National Health. But I generously (!) offered to
do it for nothing for my best friend’s brother. And do it I
did. In fact, I had not been completely honest with Billie. His
frenulum had not been completely excised. There was a small
patch of it left, until I got to work on it, anyway. Like there
was a small patch of surplus shaft skin, before I took to it my
trusty knife. Oh, yes! I made Billie pay all right for what he
had done to Jasmine. Off came his vestigial frenulum, and off
came his small cuff of surplus shaft skin. I chopped very tight
and the flesh on his stiffened shaft is now pulled as tight as
a drum skin. And then, an added bonus, I advised Billie to
avoid nooky with his beautiful wife for more than 2 months. Not
that he was in a position to ignore my counsel. For the 7 or 8
weeks after his little operation he was far too shocked, sore
and traumatised to get up to anything approaching serious
hanky-panky.

  But the appalling thing is that, now his cock is bonking good
again, Billie is actually grateful for what I did to him. You
see, my surgery was, indeed, skilful; the stitching could have
won a Women’s Institute embroidery contest. Cosmetically,
therefore, what is left of Billie’s cock looks a snip (so to
speak!). It is very neat and tidy, and, for this, Billie is
effusive in his thanks.



 

09 Jillie Chopcock version 06