{ASSTR 10 r03} Cathy Harte’s Outback Cuts {Big Billie} (circ

F/mmmMMM, cane F/F sc)




Cathy Harte’s Outback Cuts



or Knife and Cane



By Big Billie


© Big Billie 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.


This story is about a malicious man-hating lesbian who enjoys

circumcising males of all ages. I find it sexually stimulating to

write about her, but please note that her attitude to circumcision

is the opposite of mine.


As in my other circumcision stories my two main motives are:

1. To sexually excite readers, including myself; and

2. To end neonatal and other unnecessary circumcisions,

especially in the USA where they are currently depressingly

common.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My name is Cathy Harte. I am a doctor in my late 50s. For the

last thirty years I have been operating as a general practitioner in

Eubonga Springs, a small town with its surrounding countryside of

about 15,000 people in Western Australia. Recently I downloaded

from the Internet some memoirs allegedly written by an English

surgeon called Jillian Philpott. These detailed Jill’s exploits, whilst

operating as a urino-genital surgeon, in circumcising a large

number of her male patients.


Well, I do not know if Mrs. Philpott’s memoirs are genuine. It is

clear that, at the very least, the names and locations have been

changed to protect the guilty. But, genuine or not, I found her

account most stimulating, and I thought that you might be

interested in my reminiscences on the same topic. The main

difference between us, as you will see, is that most of Jill’s victims

were patients referred to her in adulthood, whereas most (but not

all) of mine have been babies whom I have circumcised

neonatally.


Ours is a small, very isolated community. I am the only doctor.

For the last 3 years I have worked with a young nurse and

midwife called Judy MacDonald. Judy is now aged 24. She is a

strikingly beautiful girl. Her father’s family is Scottish, but her

mother is an Aborigine. In Judy’s case this ethnic mix is exquisite.

It is coffee with just the right amount of cream and brown sugar.

I am infatuated with Judy. Luckily, she is very fond of me too.

Ever since Judy arrived we have got on really well, and for the

last two years we have been conducting a delicious, highly

secretive, lesbian love affair.


With Judy’s help I deliver most of the children in Eubonga

Springs, and I am responsible for the post-natal care of all of

them. When a boy baby is born, or as soon after as I can if I

missed the birth, I always strongly recommend his parents to let

me circumcise him. I enumerate the supposed benefits of this

procedure and end by saying that it is a very minor operation,

and that I never make any extra charge for performing it. We get

about 180 births a year in the practice, or about 3 or 4 a week.

Thus the number of boy babies is usually just over 90 a year, or 1

to 3 every week. In the last 30 odd years, taking into account the

baby boom of the 1960s, etc., I have been responsible for the

delivery and post-natal care of more than 3,000 boys. I

circumcised the vast majority of these, and I continue to do so

since, thankfully, the vociferous campaign currently being waged

by some Australians against the procedure has not got through to

our very isolated community. For the last three years Judy has

been my loyal and dedicated accomplice in this work.


Like Jill Philpott I love circumcision. As for Judy she enjoys it

every bit as much as I do, if not more so. Oh, yes! Circumcision

really turns both of us on. From the word go, and from long

before I got to know Judy, I have kept detailed private records,

on a card index system, of exactly whom I have circumcised,

where and when. There are also about 3,000 small sealed phials,

containing all the foreskins I have severed preserved in

formaldehyde. The phials are numbered for easy cross-reference

to the card index records.


I get a real kick from cutting cocks. It gives me a great feeling of

power to know that the mutilation that I am inflicting will last a

lifetime. However hard he tries, the victim will never be able to

shake off or live down his sexy and amusing little snip, no matter

how infuriated and humiliated he is by it. Even worse from the

victims’ point of view, and even more sexy and amusing from our

vantage point, like Jill Philpott I always circumcise as tightly as I

dare. I snip off as much foreskin as I think I can get away with,

and, on the under side of the cock just below the glans or cock

head, I always try to cut off all of the deliciously sensitive

triangular flap of skin known as the frenulum, so that not so

much as a vestige of it is left behind.


Indeed, I go even further than that. The distinction that Jill

Philpott draws between messy and neat circumcisions is

interesting. Like Jill I can see a lot to commend the messy style;

it must be a great feeling of power to know that you have dished

out to the victim a really beat up, battered cock, resplendent with

skin flaps, stitch tunnels and a jagged, irregular, ugly scar. To

send a neonate on his way into the world with a legacy like that

must be a real hoot. I can just imagine him, in later life, ruefully

surveying the damage and wincing at his disfigurement and at his

lost pleasure.


But, having said that, I must admit that I personally always try to

perform a neat and precise circumcision; you see, I do not want

my victims to be too conscious of their mutilation. If they were

they might resent what I had done to them and refuse to let me

circumcise their sons.


However, I exact a price for my careful and meticulous surgery. I

precisely and exactly chop off as many of the pleasurable bits as I

can, including, as I have said, the whole of the frenulum.


I also etch into every cock that I butcher my own personal

"signature." I "sign my name" so to speak in the little "valley"

underneath the cock-head where the frenulum is attached to the

glans. That is the point where I meticulously scoop out and

excavate, with wicked precision, the tip of the frenulum before I

go on to chop off the rest of it. Then I apply stitches and/or

sutures as necessary to produce a neat circumcision with an

almost invisible circumcision scar. Ouch! The end product looks a

"snip" so to speak, and the victim usually does not realise just

exactly how much there is that is missing.


The scooping out of the tip of the frenulum creates, when the

cock has healed up, a tiny triangle of scar tissue stretched tightly

across and into the little indentation on the underside of the cock

head; and this is the hallmark of a Cathy Harte neonatal

circumcision.


From time to time circumcised men come to me with willie

problems, and I need to inspect their tackle. In some such cases I

have not yet got out their medical records, and I cannot

remember whether or not it was me who circumcised them. Then

I will flip over their cocks and observe that wicked little triangular

scar.


"Oh, yes!" I will say to them. "I was your baby doctor wasn't I?"


And I have never got it wrong yet!


On the other hand, neither Judy nor I like hurting babies. We are

also concerned that, if we cause distress to a baby that we are

circumcising, it might make his parents less likely to let us cut

any little brothers that he may acquire later. We therefore try to

minimise the pain and trauma of our patients by the use of local,

externally applied anaesthetics. No, the real pleasure we get from

our exploits comes later, and gets greater over the years. Not

that we do not anticipate our enjoyment at the time, of course.

“That’s for nothing,” or “that’s just for being a man,” or “that’s for

what you are going to do to young ladies,” I will say to my infant

victim after I have trimmed him tight. “So watch it, young man.

At the slightest hint of any hanky-panky I’ll take your balls as

well.”


These days, by the time of their marriage, many of our young

men have moved away from town. Nevertheless, they often come

back to get married, and, even if they do not, their wedding is

usually reported, together with a photograph, in the local press

since they almost always have a lot of friends or relatives here.

Thus, on average, I should say that every week I hear about the

weddings of between one and three young men whom, as babies,

I circumcised.


Now, whenever one of my victims gets married I have a

procedure. I gather, from the press and from word of mouth

throughout our small community, as much information about the

bride as I can. All this is filed in a system integrated with my card

index. Included in the file, except in a few rare cases where I

could not get them, are one or more photographs of the blushing

bride, at the wedding, and, if possible, taken on other occasions.

For reasons that will soon become clear, I am particularly keen to

get my hands on pictures of the bride in skimpy summer clothing

or, even better, in swimwear.


Nearly all the weddings of young men I have circumcised take

place on a Saturday. Saturday night, therefore, is usually the

night of the week for Judy and me. I go to my records and take

out the phials containing my victims’ foreskins, and the

photographs of their brides (if one or more of these is by then

available, which it often is). Then (oh exquisite joy!) Judy and I lie

naked in bed together and begin to fantasise. The more beautiful

the bride, and the more we both fancy her, the more our

fantasies turn us on. Last year, for example, one young man I

had circumcised as a baby married a stunning, leggy brunette

who had just been voted Miss Student Sydney in one of our big

national beauty contests. The wedding was held locally, and Judy

and myself were invited to both the ceremony and the reception.

Of course, we both took advantage of the situation to assiduously

chat up the beautiful, blushing bride. Wow, she was gorgeous,

far too stunning and sexy for any man to enjoy perfectly, with his

foreskin on!


Of course, not all of my victims marry girls who are sumptuously

beautiful. Some of their brides are fat and/or frumpy. But my

view is that sex with any young lady before she arrives at her

fiftieth birthday gives a man too much pleasure. He has no right

to taste that lady perfectly, to enjoy himself that much. His

foreskin should be in one of my phials (which, indeed, it

frequently is). He is entitled to married bliss with his bride, but

only up to a point. His ecstasy should be circumscribed. “Yes,

young man”, I will gloat to myself as I gaze into his phial, “I have

taken the top off your wedding night and no mistake!”


And yet it seems unfair that the husband of a plain if youthful wife

should pay the same penalty as someone married to a stunning,

sexy young sizzler. He should really be compensated by having

less of his foreskin cut off, if this were practical. Yes, in theory

(but definitely not, of course, in practice!) he might well be

entitled to a little fold of prepuce, a residual flap that had escaped

my sharp avenging knife. On the other hand, even the fattest and

ugliest ladies in their teens, twenties, thirties, and forties, have

more than enough sex appeal to stiffen the cocks of all healthy

men, even if they do have well cut cocks.


What, however, when a woman gets older, into her fifties, sixties

and above, especially if she was no oil painting in the first place?

As I explain below, I sometimes get to circumcise older cocks.

This gives Judy and me great delight. Very exceptionally we may

agree to spare a potential victim. For this rare concession to be

granted, however, the victim must meet a number of stringent

criteria. Firstly, his wife must be at least 50 years of age, or in

other words she must be a middle aged lady, as defined by the

World Health Organisation, of at least five year’s standing.

Secondly, his wife must be an ugly and completely unattractive

old boot. This value judgement I leave for Judy to make.

“Surely”, I will say, “old Fred (or whoever) deserves all the

pleasure that he can get out of that old trout?” “Oh, no!” Judy will

reply. “She may be well into her fifties, but she is still a striking

figure of a woman.” Unfortunately for most of my victims, Judy

fancies older women; she has a very catholic taste in them, and

lusts after them both fat and thin. And, if she _does_ fancy them,

she always decides, in her envy and spite, to have their

husbands’ cocks well cut!


I must make myself clear on one point, however. Judy and I do

not want to discourage sexual intercourse. We just want to make

sure that men pay an appropriate physical price for the

merchandise at their disposal, and for their use and enjoyment of

it. On this one, however, it is Judy’s shout, and for her there are

two questions, at least one of which must be answered in the

affirmative if the cock is to be spared.


The first of these is “if this man is circumcised, will he be less

likely to bonk his wife?” Now this question is scarcely worth

asking. Judy admits that, not being a man herself, she can never

know the correct answer to it. There must always be an element

of doubt, she argues, and, if the potential choppee were

consistently given the benefit of this, no one would ever get

chopped. Judy’s answer, therefore, is always a mere formality. In

every single case she has delivered a strict and stern “No”

verdict.


The second question is “If this man bonks his wife without his

foreskin on, will he get less pleasure than he is entitled to?” Here

again Judy’s verdict is usually an emphatic and parsimonious

“No,” but in three cases, where the wife has been old, frail, ugly

and/or in poor health, her answer was a begrudging “Yes.” The

result was that, for a time, there were two old men walking

around our practice with their foreskins on that we had had it in

our power to circumcise.


Now, however, there is only one. This is because in one case Judy

made a mistake. She spared a man’s cock on the grounds that his

wife was ill, as well as being old, frail, ugly and completely

unattractive. Then the man went and ran off with a young, sexy

bimbo. For two years Judy was mortified that she had let him off

the hook. Then, however, he came back to me complaining of a

renewed attack of phimosis. This time Judy showed him no

mercy. She got me to cure his condition with a punitive and

severely comprehensive circumcision that, at her request, I made

all the more drastic because he had betrayed his wife and had

dared to rub his foreskin up the bimbo’s love tunnel. We have his

severed prepuce and frenulum in a jar of formaldehyde (they

were far too big to fit into one of the phials I use for neonatal

circumcisions) and, at times like the anniversary of his wedding to

the bimbo, we take them out and giggle saucily over them. “Yes

mate!” we will say, “Cop that! You deserved it! We’ve well

punished you, right at the point of pleasurable transgression!

We’ve scarred and calloused over your cock for you! We’ve cut

short your pleasure and no mistake! There must be about 18

square inches of sensitive, nerve enriched cock skin here that will

never again taste the sharp, sensual ecstasy of a warm, moist

vagina! I bet the flesh that is left is pulled as tight as a drum skin

up and over your erect shaft. I bet a lively session in bed gives it

a real battering and makes it exquisitely raw, sore and tender!

And look! There is the frenulum. Every last millimetre of it has

been completely chopped off. You’ll get no more frenetic pleasure

from that mate! In fact, you won’t get any more pleasure at all!

Serves you right you lascivious, adulterous, traitorous old

bastard!”


As I have explained, most of my victims I circumcise neonatally.

Sometimes, however, as you can see from the above narrative, I

get a chance to wield my knife on an older cock, and to add to my

collection of trophies by plopping big, adult foreskins and

frenulums into jars of formaldehyde. Oh, yes! Every time that I

chop a cock, whether of a neonate or of an older man, I always

make sure that I keep a little memento of my triumph! Anyway,

let me explain.


From time to time boys and men will come to me with willie

problems. The most usual of these is infection under the foreskin.

This can be caused by sexual intercourse. When it is the usual

term for it is thrush. Anyway, there are a number of conditions

that can cause angry red swellings and/or sores and abrasions on

the cock. Another difficulty, sometimes linked to this one, is the

condition known as phimosis. This is where the foreskin is tight,

and cannot easily be pulled over the glans and down the shaft. I

should say that uncircumcised patients come to me on average

between 3 and 5 times a year with such problems. When they do,

I always advocate circumcision. This, I tell the victim, can be

carried out overnight under general anaesthetic, while he is cared

for in a bed at my clinic. I expound the supposed benefits of this

procedure (much less likelihood of infection of cock head, genital

hygiene, man less liable to penile cancer, woman’s reduced risk of

cancer of cervix, etc., etc.). I go on to point out (liar that I am!)

that there are no disadvantages to the operation, except that the

circumcised cock might be a little tender for a while. (A little

tender! You bet it might! And the rest! For an average of about 9

weeks the victim will be far too sore for any nooky, no matter

how sexy his lady, or how lasciviously he lusts after her. Oh, yes!

His sexy little snip costs the average punter many a wince, grunt

and gasp before he recovers his composure. It is not for nothing

that Judy has dubbed me “Cock Throbbin’“!)


I never advocate circumcision on the occasion when a patient first

complains to me of prepuce problems. Instead, I arrange a

second appointment and ask Judy for a call on whether or not she

wants me to cut him. In the meantime, I do something rather

naughty. I give the victim a tube, which I claim contains an anti-

bacterial, fungicidal cream. “I need to monitor the situation here

for a while,” I will say. “In the meantime try this. It is unlikely to

do much good in the long term, but it is probably worth a try

because it may relieve the immediate symptoms.” Except that it

does not. This is because it is not an antibiotic, fungicidal cream

at all. It is not even a placebo. It is a substance that I have

specially chosen for its ability to feed and encourage all forms of

parasitical skin gobbler under the prepuce. Then, when the victim

comes back to me with much worse symptoms than at first, I

drop him the sucker punch about his little operation. Most men at

this stage swallow the bait hook, line and sinker, and allow me to

go on and circumcise them. A few do not, and these I advise to

continue with the cream, giving them, in addition, an ointment

which is equally nutritious to bacteria and fungi, for good

measure. This causes their symptoms to worsen so

catastrophically that in every single case they have returned

chastened and requesting surgery. Then, when I finally

circumcise them, I always give them a “penalty cut” (see below)

as a punishment for being recalcitrant patients, and for not taking

my advice in the first place.


(Incidentally, my victims also take a penalty cut if they try to

engage me in dialogue about their operation, and/or to tell me

how they would prefer to be trimmed. This has happened on 3

occasions, and every time it really got my goat. After all, who did

these interfering busybodies think that they were? _I_ was the

competent professional, and it was up to me to decide how they

should be mutilated. Cheeky bastards! What! Did they think they

had rights, or something? In each of the three cases I faced the

insolent and impudent democrats out and told them that, for the

operation to be a success, there was only one way to perform it.

Then I performed it that way, and harder! The sexiest of the

three cases was a 22-year-old man with a stunning, clitoris-

moistening, 17-year-old wife. Oh, wow! Did I slap _him_ down

and make him pay for his misguided attempt at participative

democracy! Whack! From the start I had intended to cut him

hard; then, to punish his lippy remarks, I cut him harder than

that! I suppose that he still enjoys his wife; but, he enjoys her

less than he would have done if he had not been so cheeky, and,

as a direct result of his insolence, there is a significant little extra

piece of him that will never again enjoy her at all!)


The penalty cut, in fact, is inflicted upon a fair number of men

whom I circumcise as adolescents or adults. This is for several

reasons. Let me cite you some examples.


Not long ago I inspected the willie of an 18-year-old farm hand.

Before he entered the consulting room he had been chatting up

Judy in reception. This had clearly over-excited him. He had

recovered his self composure to some extent by the time I had

his trousers down, but, unfortunately for him, he was still semi-

aroused and at “half cock.” Well, I can tell you that when I got to

circumcise him he paid for that little peccadillo with interest. At

the operation Judy was very strict with him. “The impudent young

whippersnapper,” she fumed. “How dare he consider me a sex

object? The effrontery of it! I’ll punish him for his insolence! I’ll

soon slap him back into line. Cut him, Cathy! Cut him hard!” And

I did too! And, as Judy’s lover, I was, as she had been,

particularly strict with him. I felt jealous and spiteful, and I really

let him have it!


Then there was the case of the big, strapping 28-year-old Aussie

rules football player who had given Judy a drunken grope at his

club disco. Wow! From his point of view that was an expensive

mistake, and one for which he paid dearly! Needless to say, when

Judy was lucky enough to get him under the knife she gave him

good cause to regret his indiscretion. And again, as Judy’s

outraged lover, I was particularly savage with the miscreant.


Then there was the retired secondary school teacher in his late

sixties called Phil “Slap Happy” Nappy. In his day, he had been a

firm and enthusiastic disciplinarian, and had gone around

slippering everyone, even the girls. No, worse than that, Judy

tells me. He particularly enjoyed slippering young ladies,

especially the bigger, meatier, more nubile ones. No beauteous

young female was safe from the dirty old sod; he seemed to have

a particularly strong crush on Judy, and he would slipper her for

the slightest reason. You see, Judy was born and raised in

Eubonga Springs (I circumcised her four brothers!) and thus it

was that, during her schooldays, she felt “Slap Happy’s” slipper

across her buttocks on numerous occasions, until she was aged

16+. Well! Needless to say, the dirty old pervert was well

chastised for his lascivious pleasures! When he developed an

infection under his foreskin Judy got me to cure the condition by

inflicting a particularly vicious, savage and comprehensive

circumcision.


However, Phil’s was not the most vicious and savage circumcision

that I have ever masterminded. The recipient of that was one

Bert Bulstrode, a traffic warden in downtown Eubonga Springs.

Bert is a familiar figure in our town centre, and he enforces the

parking laws with gleeful strictness and severity; but, as you will

now learn, when he tangled with Judy he bit off rather more than

he could chew.


It was two or three years ago that Judy became one of Bert’s

victims. Fair enough. She had parked illegally, she had caused an

obstruction, and she deserved to get her bottom smacked. But

unfortunately for her she had parked with the front of her car

overhanging a disabled person’s bay, and for this Bert stung her

with a swingeing surcharge; the total rap for the fine and the

surcharge was A$320, about US$225 or roughly GB£125. Ouch!

Nurses are not the best paid of people, and at the time that was

well over a day’s pay for Judy, and even more than that after tax.

It was the first parking ticket that she had ever received and it

really upset her; when she arrived at work that day she was

almost in tears, and she felt very sorry for herself for several

weeks afterwards. Oh yes! The ticket that Bert slapped onto

Judy’s windscreen really hurt her; it stung her to the quick. Yet he

inflicted it casually, unheedingly and insouciantly. He thought that

it was funny, of no consequence, one big joke, and he displayed

the utmost unheeding indifference at the victim’s fate, and at her

distress.


Worst of all, Bert was seriously over excited that he had managed

to catch out and slap down such a tempting and desirable piece of

Eve’s flesh; he filled out Judy’s ticket in a leisurely and expansive

fashion whist regaling her with a barrage of sexy, saucy,

salacious, disciplinarian, Mickey-taking put-downs. Judy tells me

that he teased her mercilessly, quipping that she “deserved to be

disciplined.” She “needed to be slapped into line,” he added. She

must be “punished” and “stung” for her peccadillo, and, in his

opinion, her “three hundred and twenty of the best” were well

merited. And so on. Judy was chastened, mortified and

humiliated. She claims, in my view correctly, that what Bert did

amounted to sexual harassment. Oh, yes! Bert Bulstrode ruined

Judy’s day, and a fair number of her other days as well.


Dear reader, you can guess the rest. Yes, about 18 months later

Bert came to my surgery with an infection under his foreskin. It

looked like a very bad case of sexually transmitted thrush to me,

and, as I was later to learn from the local gossip, that indeed was

what it was. Apparently, one of Bert’s female victims had offered

him sex if he tore up her ticket. Well, the story goes that Bert

met her after work and gave her a right good seeing to. However,

when she tried to return her parking ticket he refused to take it,

and told her that she would still have to pay the fine. Well, no

doubt the double-crossing bastard thought that he had been very

clever; but what Bert did not know was that the lady herself had

also been shrewd. She was far from an innocent victim; she had

deliberately and maliciously given Bert a little something to

remember her by.


Well, I handed Bert my fake bacteria-nutritious cream, and after

he had applied it the skin gobblers under his foreskin bred and

multiplied exponentially; on his second visit Bert’s cock was a real

mess, and he was ripe and ready for the sucker punch. The only

effective cure for his condition, I told him, was circumcision.


Oh, wow! I do not think that I have ever enjoyed anything, even

lesbian sexual intercourse, much more than I enjoyed the

mutilation of Bert’s cock. I let Judy perform the surgery, under

my close instructions. Ouch! She really butchered him! Firstly,

she chopped him very tight; she really “cut him back to the balls”

as the Americans say. Secondly, she completely hacked off his

frenulum. Thirdly, guided by me, she cut him extremely “low and

tight.” In other words, as well as the frenulum, she excavated the

vast majority of his sensitive inner foreskin, and then stitched him

up so that he only had a very thin strip of inner foreskin between

his insensitive lower cock skin and his cock head.


Wow! I bet that circumscribed his pleasure! There is not a lot of

sensitivity up most of Bert’s cock shaft now, and if he wanks

himself off he does not have too many options. All he can do now

is caress his knob head and hope that is enough to bring him off.

Even better, Bert is already into his early 50s. Give him another 5

to 10 years, and his cock should be well desensitised; soon, it is

going to cost him a fortune in Viagra purchases if he wants to

experience any real action!


As I gazed down on Bert’s butchered chopper I thought of all the

young ladies that he had victimised with his parking tickets and

sexually harassed with his indecent verbals; I thought of all the

young mums, hot and bothered, dragging their children after

them, who were even hotter and more bothered after Bert had

stuck a hefty ticket on them; and I thought of the entire motoring

population of Eubonga Springs, who lived in constant fear and

trepidation of this officious, excessive, over-the-top, vindictive

bastard. And you know what, dear reader? It made me feel very,

very good!


The next morning Bert, shocked and traumatised by his

operation, was lying in bed in our clinic when Judy came to tend

to him.


“Good morning, Mr. Bulstrode, do you remember me?”


“Yes, Miss MacDonald, I certainly do?”


“Do you recall that eighteen months ago you gave me a parking

ticket?”


Well, Bert was feeling rather too sorry for himself after his

surgery to sound triumphalist, but there was a satisfied gleam in

his eye as he made his reply.


“Yes, that’s right. I did, didn’t I?”


“Because of you I had to fork out A$320; that was well over a

day’s pay, and most of the money that I had saved up for my

summer holiday.”


“I know you did. They’d just raised the tariff by 50 percent,” said

Bert smugly.


Then Judy, having prepared the ground, delivered her punch line.


“Yes,” she replied ruefully, “I felt very sore and cut up about it.”


Then she paused, and, in a sweet, innocent voice, asked:


“Tell me, Mr. Bulstrode. How do you feel this morning?”


I must admit that I have never dared to circumcise anyone else

as savagely as we circumcised Bert Bulstrode. What we did to

him was way over the top, and it was the only time in my life that

I have put my career on the line to get back at a patient. If Bert

had complained, and if I had been hauled up before the Medical

Council, it could have turned very nasty. I worried about it for

several months, and I thought through my best line of defence.

You can imagine the sort of thing: serious risk of renewed

infection, inner foreskin more prone to attack than outer foreskin

and best excised, infection serious, could have caused permanent

mutilation, needed drastic and effective treatment, etc, etc.

Except that it did not sound very convincing, even to me. My best

hope, I concluded, was that Bert would never complain because

of the public embarrassment. You see, most of the folk of

Eubonga Springs hate Bert and if they heard that some of his

naughty bits had been cruelly chopped off they would think it was

hilariously funny. Anyway, for whatever reason, Bert never did

lodge a formal complaint, and I was able to heave a huge sigh of

relief.


There are a number of offences of a moral or sexual nature that

attract an automatic penalty cut. For example, a man gets it if he

is living with a woman out of wedlock, or if any of his children

were born out of wedlock. Then, if his partner is more than 4

years younger than him, he takes a penalty cut for being a dirty

old man. For example, if he was born on, say, June 24 and his

partner was born on June 25 four years later, then, on his

birthday, his age is 5 years more than the age of his partner.

True, it is only like that for 24 hours, but that is long enough to

attract a penalty cut. I suspect that, in this case, some men get it

when they do not qualify. For example, if a lady is not honest

about her age, and claims that she is younger than she really is,

her man gets a penalty cut on the basis of the information that

she has given us! She’s the liar, but he’s in the mire!


When I am performing a circumcision, the older the man, the

more I cut off. Anyone over fifty gets an automatic penalty cut,

and I am also pretty drastic with men in their forties and

younger. This is what I refer to as my “remission surcharge.”

After all, from a physical point of view, a man of fifty has had the

opportunity for the best part of half a century of perfect sex; it is

only right that he should be made to pay for that exquisite

pleasure with interest. Oh, yes! If ever I am lucky enough to get

a man like that under my knife I give him good cause to regret

the lost, exquisite delights of yesteryear!


In our practice we have a number of ladies who are seriously

obese; the fattest of the lot, however, is called Pauline Watts. Oh,

my! Pauline is a real wide load, and very plain to boot. She is the

sort of girl who just cannot fit into standard size airplane seats.

So fat is she, indeed, that it is a serious health concern, and she

is under my constant medical monitoring and care.


A short time ago Pauline’s husband, Alan, came to me

complaining that he could not get an erection. “Well, mate,” I

thought to myself, “If you're shagging Pauline no wonder you’re

not getting overexcited.” That, however, was not what I told him;

the difficulty, I said, was that he seemed to be suffering from

phimosis, or a tight foreskin. There was no guarantee that it

would work, I added, but one possibility was circumcision, and I

advised him to go away and think about it.


Now this was a try-on. I did not really think that Alan would get

back in touch for the sucker punch on that one, but, amazingly,

he did. If there was any chance that it might work, he said, he

was quite prepared to take the chop.


Well, this was a most interesting scenario. I suppose that we

should have considered sparing Alan from the knife. After all, do

you remember Judy’s second condition before a man can be

trimmed? It goes: “If this man bonks his wife without his foreskin

on, will he get less pleasure than he is entitled to?” Now Pauline is

so fat and ugly that not even Judy, strict as she is, could have

denied a reprieve on those grounds.


But for Alan that question was not even posed, and there was

never any question of sparing his cock. He had opted for, nay, he

had actively requested the chop, and now he was going to take it.

In any case, Pauline was 49 years old, or a year too young for her

man to be spared. The chop was automatic; But what sort of

chop should Alan take?


Well, the answer to that one was quite clear; Alan was 5 years

older that Pauline, so he got an automatic penalty cut. We made

no concession, not even a millimetre, to the fact that his wife was

gargantuan and completely unattractive. Judy and I were

enormously amused and entertained by his case, and we grinned

and giggled over it for weeks. Rules were rules, we kept telling

each other archly, and justice demanded that they be fully and

impartially implemented.


The only comfort for Alan was that when he came back about 6

months later and complained that he was still impotent I did what

I should have done in the first place; I put him on Viagra, and

that, he told me, did the trick!


It was Judy who first started to call these very thorough, very

tight circumcisions “penalty cuts.” The victims, she insists, must

take a “standard chop plus one centimetre.” Now one centimetre

may not seem very much. Since the foreskin is folded back over

on itself it means that I only cut about 5 millimetres deeper than

usual. But you must remember that my usual cuts go very deep.

Thus, this “surcharge” as Judy also calls it really cuts them to the

quick. It pulls the skin on their erect cocks as tight as a drum

skin. Any over enthusiastic rubbing is likely to make the skin on

the cock shaft deliciously sore and raw. The victim may not notice

it most of the time, but, just when he is at the height of his

sexual frolics, you can bet that the extra tribute that he has paid

does not half make him wince and grunt!


Let me give you an example. There is a 70-year-old farmer in our

practice called Bob Douglas. He is white haired now, but still lusty

for his age and sexually active. His wife is called Amanda. She is

12 years younger than him at 58. In her youth Amanda was a

professional ballet dancer with a company in Sydney. Today,

despite her mature years, she is still petite, elegant, poised and

slim, with a very shapely, well preserved figure, even though she

has given birth to four baby boys and three girls. Bob married

Amanda 30 years ago, when he was 40 and she was 28. This

marriage occurred in Eubonga Springs shortly after I arrived as

the local doctor, and it annoyed me. Amanda was a close

personal friend of mine. I myself fancied her something rotten,

and deeply resented Bob moving in on her. “Damn!” I thought to

myself, “I have lost out badly to that dirty old bastard!” Over the

years my intimate (but, unfortunately, non-sexual) personal

friendship with Amanda continued and indeed deepened, and my

resentment at losing her to the bluff farmer, if anything,

increased. At the beginning, I hated the thought of a much older

man taking advantage of her youth and innocence to get inside

her knickers. Then, over the next 30 years, I got more and more

infuriated as he kept getting into her knickers over and over

again. Worst of all, Amanda told me shortly after the marriage

that her husband was uncircumcised. “Oh, no!” I thought to

myself in horror. “So he has a full complement of sensitive

foreskin and a delicate, protected, purple coloured glans. Just

think of all those exquisite nerve endings, engorged blood vessels

and responsive pleasure receptors on his cock. Every scrap of

lustful and sensual joy, every iota of lascivious sexual pleasure is

his for the taking, and from a lady who is 12 years his junior!

God! The dirty old sod just does not deserve that much pleasure.

When he gets Amanda into bed with him, I bet he thinks that he’s

in seventh heaven!”


With such thoughts for 30 years I nursed my envy and spite.

True, the couple let me circumcise their four sons. This was

satisfying, but not the same thing at all as getting that old goat

Bob Douglas under my knife. Then, shortly after his 70th

birthday, quite unexpectedly, Bob came to me with a cock

infection.


Well, the chance was too good to miss of course. I diplomatically

pointed out that the reason why his four sons had never had this

problem was because, unlike him, they were circumcised. Then I

gave him the fake cream to make the symptoms worse. When

Bob called back again the symptoms were indeed worse and I

advised circumcision. Bob refused the operation, claiming he was

too old. “You are never too old to be circumcised” I told him

authoritatively, and gave him the complementary ointment. That

did it. Bob returned with an extremely infected cock and

requested me to cut it. That was on a Thursday. I booked him in

immediately to report to the clinic on the Friday night.


The rest, as they say, is history. After Bob’s first appointment I

had told Judy the full story about me, Bob and Amanda. I then

asked her to confirm the sentence, but, on 3 counts, this was a

mere formality. Firstly, Bob had refused surgery when it was first

advised, and had thus earned himself an automatic penalty cut as

a recalcitrant and insolent patient. Secondly, Bob was well over 4

years older than his spouse. Thirdly, Bob attracted a severe and

automatic remission surcharge; he had enjoyed 70 years of

perfect sexual bliss, all hot, sweaty and steamy, and now I

intended to make him pay for it with interest! While Bob was lying

there, under general anaesthetic, awaiting the chop, Judy and I

made long, slow, luxuriant love on a nearby bed. Lingeringly, we

brought each other to several intense orgasms as, in graphic

physical and anatomical detail, I talked Judy through the nature

of my grievance against my rival in love, and what I was going to

do to him to get my own back.


Then we proceeded to the surgery. I took out my set of knives,

and I made my preparations. "Robert James Douglas," I

announced grandly. "You have been found guilty of thwarting and

disrupting lesbian passion, and worthy of punishment for that

offence. I hereby sentence your cock to mutilation by tight

circumcision." Next, as Judy grinned in amusement, I added

archly, "Very tight. This hurts me a lot less than it hurts you."

Judy laughed out loud as I took my trusty scalpel in my hand.

Then I cut that old bastard’s cock, and I cut it hard. God, but I

made him pay for all those nights of exquisite, perfect pleasure.

Oh yes! I gave Bob Douglas the “standard chop plus one

centimetre” all right! And the rest! Wow! I skinned him alive! Bob

was well skinned and well shafted. Oh, yes! I can assure you that

there was not much skin on his shaft when I had finished with

him! Then I performed some very pretty needlework around the

cut. By the time I had finished I had stitched Bob up beautifully in

more ways than one! Next, my pent up fury and spite having at

last abated after 30 long years, I carefully cleaned Bob’s chopper

with surgical spirits. Finally, I lovingly and lingeringly fingered a

fungicidal cream (this time an effective one) into the newly

exposed cock head, and the adjacent regions. It was, however,

unnecessary for me to cream his frenulum for him, since I had

completely chopped it off! Then, after we had both eyed up and

exalted in my handiwork for twenty minutes or so I took Judy

back to bed to celebrate. Ouch! Were my tits and vulva sore by

the time we had finished!


Perhaps I should point out at this point that I inflict tight

circumcisions not only to punish the men, but also to chasten the

ladies, and to prepare them for the jousts of Sappho.


You must remember, dear reader, that I am a fierce and kinky

old lesbian. I hate heterosexual coupling. It may be necessary,

but it is also crude, vulgar and distasteful. Whenever and

wherever it occurs, the miscreants that indulge in it deserve to be

punished. When I tightly circumcise a newborn baby boy, I exult

that I am depriving not only him but also his women of their

birthright. For the lady, I refer to the penalty as “Sappho’s

retribution” or “the vengeance of Lesbos.” I resent it when a

beautiful lady gives herself to a man instead of sleeping with me,

or, if that is impractical, with other daughters of the Sapphic

sorority. In my view any woman who does that deserves to take

the rap; and take the rap she does, in more ways than one. On

this I agree with Jill Philpott that circumcised men tend to practice

kinkier sex, including flagellation. So the rap that ladies with

circumcised lovers take is sometimes the rap of a hand, slipper,

hairbrush or cane across their bare bums.


In addition, I do not want women to be satisfied with

heterosexual sex. I want them to desire something more, and to

seek it in the arms of myself, or, if I am not available, in the arms

of one of my Sapphic sisters. I like to think that, after my shrewd

knife work, a young man's fire hose is not long enough to quench

the flames of feminine passion, that its nozzle has been cut off,

and that the jet of extinguishing liquid can no longer be controlled

or directed. Oh yes! I like those young ladies to be fired with

desire, burning with lust, not only before heterosexual coupling,

but also after it. Just think! If men adequately satisfied ladies, no

lady would ever seek a feminine lover. But fear not, daughters of

Lesbos! The victims on whom I have wielded _my_ blade are

unlikely to be up to the task. To a man, all 3,000 of them have

chopped off foreskins, tight, denuded shaft skins, frenulums that

have been completely severed and excavated, ugly circumcision

scars and dry, keratised cock heads. Just let them try to satisfy

any real, live, healthy, lusty, sexy lady with that equipment! They

are doomed to failure, and their hot, frustrated lovers, with their

red, succulent cherries, are plump, juicy, and just ripe for

plucking and fucking by the votaresses of Sappho.


Oh, my dear American readers, you have all got this one so, so

wrong! I download a lot of sexy stories from the Internet. Most of

what I read is girl on girl, but I also enjoy heterosexual tales.

Now such stories written by US authors are almost always very

vague and coy about exactly what is going on between cock and

cunt. British authors will lovingly describe beautiful, purple

coloured cock heads, the slow, leisurely rolling back of the

foreskin down the shaft to reveal the sensitive plum beneath,

etc., etc. But you rarely get such detailed descriptions by

Americans, and as a result the quality of their stories, even those

of good writers, suffers. And why is this so? The answer in my

view is obvious; most of the men folk in the USA have taken the

chop. Circumcision scars, denuded frenulums, cock skins pulled

tight up erect circumcised dicks: these, and other ugly

phenomena, are what US writers would be forced to describe if

they wanted to be accurate. No wonder that out of

embarrassment and a desire not to upset their readers they

bottle out and fall silent.


There is also too much oral, anal, incestuous etc. in US stories,

far more than in stories from Europe. Hey, come on guys! Your

mutilation may make _you_ dissatisfied with straight sex, but lots

of men who enjoy the full experience are more than happy with

it, and have little interest in kinks and perversions.


The real truth, that US citizens are in full and embarrassed denial

of, was known and promulgated eight hundred years ago by a

remarkable rabbi living in France, Isaac ben Yediah. The

quotation is rather long, but please bear with me; it is well worth

reading:


A man uncircumcised in the flesh desires to lie with a

beautiful-looking woman who speaks seductively to attract

him. He vexes his mind to be with her day after day,

growing weary in his attempt to fulfil his desire through

lovemaking with her.


She too will court the man who is uncircumcised in the

flesh and lie against his breast with great passion, for he

thrusts inside her a long time because of his foreskin,

which is a barrier against ejaculation in intercourse. Thus

she feels pleasure and reaches an orgasm first. When an

uncircumcised man sleeps with her, and then resolves to

return to his home, she brazenly grabs him, holding on to

his genitals and says to him, "Come back, make love to

me." This is because of the pleasure that she finds in

intercourse with him, from the sinews of his testicles --

sinews of iron -- and from his ejaculation -- that of a horse

which he shoots like an arrow into her womb. They are

united without separating, and he makes love twice and

three times in one night, yet the appetite is not filled.


And so he acts with her night after night. The sexual

activity emaciates him of his bodily fat, and afflicts his

flesh, and he devotes his brain entirely to women, an evil

thing. His heart dies within him; between her legs he sinks

and falls. He is unable to see the light of the King's face,

because the eyes of the intellect are plastered over by

women so that they cannot now see light.


But when a circumcised man desires the beauty of a

woman, and cleaves to his wife, or to another woman

comely in appearance, he will find himself performing his

task quickly, emitting his seed as soon as he inserts his

crown. If he lies with her once, he sleeps satisfied, and will

not know her again for another seven days. This is the

way a circumcised man acts time after time with the

woman he loves. He has an orgasm first; he does not hold

back his strength. As soon as he begins intercourse, he

immediately comes to a climax.


She has no pleasure from him when she lies down or when

she arises, and it would be better for her if he had not

known her and not drawn near to her, for he arouses her

passion to no avail, and she remains in a state of desire

for her husband, ashamed and confounded, while the seed

is still in her "reservoir." She does not have an orgasm

once a year except on rare occasions, because of the

great heat and the fire burning within her. Thus he who

says, "I am the Lord's" will not empty his brain because of

his wife or the wife of his friend. He will find grace and

good favour; his heart will be strong to seek out God. He

will not fear to behold that which is beyond, and when He

speaks to him, he will not turn away.


Well, some of that might be rather overstated, but in general I

think that old Isaac got it right. A lady who marries a circumcised

man gets damaged goods; his cock probably works after a

fashion, but it is neither of merchantable quality nor particularly

fit for purpose. In theory, she would have a right to an exchange

or a refund under the consumer laws of most countries.

Unfortunately, however, she has often made a solemn and sacred

religious contract, and has taken her husband “for better or (as in

this case) for worse.” So she has to take the loss, to grin and

bear the “wham, bam, thank you ma’am,” the brief, shallow sex

and the frustrated passion. And meanwhile, us lesbians are

laughing all the way to bed!


I thus sharply disagree with Jillian Philpott. At one point in one of

her stories she refers to the battering that the female vulva

receives from a circumcised cock as “sharply pleasurable.” No,

Jill! ’Fraid not! Wrong! The circumcised cock does not give the

lady a better screw; it gives her a worse one. On this interesting

topic, I endorse the view of Kristen O’Hara in her most interesting

book Sex As Nature Intended It. On the evidence I have read,

Mrs O’Hara, like old Isaac ben Yediah, is correct. The circumcised

penis compensates for its sensitivity deficit with rough, tough and

much longer strokes that are usually deeply unsatisfying, and

even painful, for the woman; and the woman does not experience

the pleasure of closely maintained contact between the male and

female pubic mounds. Well, if they sleep with a man instead of

with me or with another woman, all I can say is that it serves

them right.


By the way, I also find Mrs O’Hara’s solution amusing. She

advocates another operation to “restore” the man’s foreskin.

Well, I look forward to doing that if ever I get the chance! I would

willingly make any man’s cock throb and smart for a second time!

Mrs O’Hara claims that it improves the lady’s pleasure, but I very

much doubt this. Certainly, for the man it is purely cosmetic. His

foreskin, frenulum and sensitive pleasure receptors have been cut

off for ever, and arranging the remaining skin so that it disguises

that fact makes no difference for him whatsoever. Even worse

from the man’s point of view, foreskin “restitution” is a

complicated and problematic procedure, to the extent that some

surgeons will not perform it. (Yes, is that not amazing? They do

the unthinkable. They refuse a fat fee and lay down their

scalpels!) The reason for this is that foreskin restitution involves

not one, but two operations. Firstly, skin from the scrotum is

grafted onto the base of the cock. (Ouch!) Then skin from the

base of the cock is moved up the shaft to cover the cockhead.

(Ouch again!) In any case, foreskin “restitution” it ain’t! The

foreskin is gone forever, and will never be restored. Foreskin

“simulation” would be a better phrase.


But I digress. Let me return to the circumcision of old Bob

Douglas. I circumcised him hard partly to punish him, and partly

to get my own back on Amanda for marrying her husband and for

spurning me as a lover. I thought that I would make them both

pay (belatedly, alas) for their sins. Unfortunately for me, her

husband’s circumcision has pepped up Amanda’s love life. (See

Amanda’s Epilogue below.) Amanda’s experience, I am glad to

say, is not typical, but it is irksome. Even so, I can live with it.

After all, Amanda’s pussy must be left exquisitely raw and sore

after old Bob’s stiff cock and his tight, taut, immobile cock skin

have given it yet another merciless trip hammering. So Amanda

as well as Bob is quite rightly being made to pay what I jokingly

refer to as the “heterosexual intercourse tax.” Much as I like her,

in my view she still deserves to be chastised.


The sexiest penalty cut that I have ever inflicted was upon a

young man called Bruce Foster. To understand this one you will

need a little background information. Soon after we started our

love affair Judy and I agreed that we had to conceal it. It was

clear to both of us that, before too long, a beautiful and

unattached girl in her early twenties such as Judy would attract

public comment if she had no man. I therefore advised her to be

open to the inevitable advances of young men, with a view,

eventually, to marrying one of them, settling down and having

children.


Judy, whom I would describe as AC/DC rather than an out and

out lesbian, agreed with this, and started dating a variety of

young men. The one who eventually was to win her, however,

was this Bruce Foster. Bruce is about two years older than Judy,

and a prosperous cattle farmer.


Well, although Judy is now Bruce’s fiancée, I can tell you that the

pair of them have a very feisty and spiky, not to say

tempestuous, relationship. Judy is a girl with a mind of her own.

Bruce is the tall, handsome, masterful type calculated to make

weaker women swoon and Judy hopping mad. The combination is

explosive.


The problems between them started on their very first date.

Bruce took Judy to an all-night, midsummer ball organised by the

Eubonga Springs Young Farmers. Then, after the ball was over,

he took her back to his place. Judy was not drunk, but she was

tipsy and merry with wine. She allowed Bruce to take liberties

with her and soon he had got her into bed with him and expertly

and comprehensively robbed her of her maidenhead.


When Judy awoke the next morning she was incensed at the way

that Bruce had taken advantage of her, especially since it had

been so easy for him and it was at such an early stage of their

relationship. She immediately put her clothes on, stormed to her

car and drove off. “He has made a complete fool of me, Cathy,”

she told me later. “He caught me with my knickers not only down

but right off. Then he really took me to the cleaners. I bet he is

boasting about it right now to all those drinking mates of his. And

I bet he has dumped me right into the pudding club. It was my

most vulnerable time of the month.”


I noted with interest, however, that Judy refused my offer of a

“morning after” pill to prevent conception. I also observed with

satisfaction that Bruce seemed to make no mention of the

incident to his mates.


Judy’s attitude to Bruce, however, changed over time. At first,

she hatched a plot with me to trick him into agreeing to be

circumcised. “He has taken my cherry,” she said, “and he must

be punished.” I sniggered lasciviously. “I thought that I had done

that to you some time ago,” I said. “No,” replied Judy. “It was Mr.

Bruce Foster, and I want him skinned alive for it. Or at least I

want the bit of him that offended skinned alive. By the time I

have finished with him he will never again ejaculate at anything

much more than half cock.”


The plan was simple. Judy was to go on the pill and continue to

let Bruce fuck her. When he did, however, Judy would use my

ointment, ostensibly as a lubricant, but really to encourage

bacterial and fungoid infections of Bruce’s cock. To stop Judy

getting infected I was to give her a bacterial and fungicidal

douche after every sex session.


Well, the plan worked like a charm. Soon Bruce’s cock was sore

and infected. The next time he got Judy into bed with him, she

told him that there would be no more nooky until the infection

was cleared up, and booked him in to for an appointment with

me. Well, I gave Bruce the standard fake cream treatment,

which, as planned, made things worse. Then I advocated

circumcision, and he refused. Then I gave him the fake ointment,

which made things worse still. In the meantime, I told Judy to try

to persuade Bruce of the benefits of the snip. This she did with

great skill and effectiveness, and soon Mr. Bruce Foster was

booked into our clinic for the usual Friday night chop.


By now, however, Judy was having second thoughts. She was

indeed ambivalent about chopping Bruce at all. “It was a dirty,

wicked trick that we pulled on him,” she said. “I can’t go through

with it, Cathy. I love him!” “That’s as maybe,” I replied. “But he

must still be punished for what he did to you. Good Lord, Judy.

You dished out a penalty cut to one young man just because his

cock went a bit stiff while he was chatting you up. You had him

chopped hard, very hard, and he had never even laid a finger on

you. Yet this Mr. Bruce bloody Foster gets you tipsy, takes you to

bed, comprehensively robs you of your cherry and then shags the

arse off you! I promise you, young lady. He is not going to get

away with that! Besides, as your jealous lesbian lover I cannot

bear the thought of him enjoying you perfectly. I want to be the

only person in the whole world who ever does that. So I am going

to be spiteful and vindictive with him. He will pay to the uttermost

millimetre for enjoying the pleasures of your bed. I’m a tight-

arsed bitch, and he will soon be a tight-cocked bastard! I’ll make

him pay for taking advantage of your innocence and

inexperience! I’ll pull the skin on his erect cock shaft as tight as a

drum skin! Oh Yes! I’ll make him wince and grunt! My God, but

he’ll know about it when I’ve finished with him! I’ll give him

something to remember me by and no mistake!”


Actually my objective in this diatribe was not just to attack Bruce.

It was also to rile Judy. She had been a little bit too ready, in my

view, to let Bruce deflower her, and then to allow him to bonk her

again. Worst of all, I had now found out to my horror that Judy

actually loved Bruce. I had no great objection to a marriage of

convenience during which I continued as her main lover. That had

been the plan, but that was not the way that it was panning out.

As it was, I looked set to be playing second fiddle, or even,

perhaps, no fiddle at all, to Mr. Bruce bloody Foster! I felt slighted

and betrayed, and if Judy had had a cock I would have wanted to

circumcise her as well, with a comprehensive penalty cut that was

just as punitive and severe as the one I had planned for Bruce.

Oh, yes! In my view, Mr. Bruce Foster was not the only one who

deserved to be chastised!


Well, on the night when Bruce was down to be cut, things got

even worse between Judy and me. In fact, we had a blazing row.

First, Judy did not want me to cut Bruce at all. Then she refused

to sentence him to a penalty cut.


“Well, he’s bloody well getting a penalty cut” I shouted. “I am

over-riding you on this one, Judy. You are clearly too emotionally

involved to reach an impartial decision.”


“Oh! And I suppose that you aren’t, are you?” screamed back

Judy. “You’re just a jealous, vicious and vindictive lesbian bitch

who wants to get back at her rival.”


Well, this was just a little bit too close to the bone for comfort. In

fact, Judy had hit the nail right on the head. I was fuming!

Indeed, I was so hopping mad that I did something that I had

never done before. I pulled rank on her.


“Look!” I screamed. “I am the doctor here, and you are only the

bloody nurse. You’re under my authority, young lady, while you

are working for this practice, and like it or not you will do exactly

what I bloody well say, or face the consequences!”


“Consequences?” yelled back Judy. “Consequences? And what the

hell might they be?”


I did not answer this question immediately. Instead, I walked up

to Judy and positioned my face about six inches away from hers.

Then I stared hard into her eyes. “Just bloody well try me!” I

answered menacingly.


To my slight surprise this negotiating ploy succeeded. There was

a lengthy, embarrassed silence. “Well?” I followed up. “What have

you got to say for yourself then?” Slowly Judy’s face melted from

defiance to compliance. “OK,” she said submissively. “You win.

What do you want me to do?”


I grinned with relief and satisfaction at this unexpected surrender.

“Well, first off” I said, “you can prepare and sterilise the

instruments and get me the surgical marker.”


Judy obediently trotted off to do my will, and soon we were all

prepared for the surgery to commence. I took the surgical marker

and drew a line all around Bruce’s cock shaft where I would have

cut him to perform a routine circumcision. Then I drew another

line, 5 millimetres further down, where he would have taken the

chop for a penalty cut. Finally, I drew a third line, 2.5 millimetres

below that.


“Additional 50 per cent surcharge. Penalty cut plus a half of one

centimetre” I announced in an authoritative, matter of fact, ex

cathedra fashion that was intended to leave Judy in absolutely no

doubt that this was not a matter for democratic debate. Then I

paused to give Judy time to take my announcement on board.

“Well? What have you got to say about that then, Miss Interfering

Busybody?”


Judy looked in fascinated horror at where I had drawn the lines

on Bruce’s cock. Then she winced and looked away. “Jeez,

Cathy,” she said reproachfully. “That’s a bit bloody harsh isn’t it?

You’re skinning the poor bastard alive!”


I gently cupped Judy’s chin into my hands and turned her face

towards mine. Then I looked her steadily in the eyes. “He must

be punished for what he did to you, my beloved,” I replied

dispassionately. Then, suddenly, I grinned broadly. “But don’t

worry, darling” I said. “I won’t spoil your love life. I’m leaving him

just enough skin to fulfil his marital duties, but not a millimetre

more. I promise you that his cock skin will be stretched as tight

as a drum skin up his erect shaft. Oh, yes! Mr. Bruce bloody

Foster will be giving you some very brisk and rasping shags!

Prepare yourself for lots of lively sex and for plenty of friction,

young lady! The course of your shaggings will never run smooth!

You won’t be getting any slow, gentle, lazy, luxuriant fucks! When

you get fucked you’ll know all about it! Your pussy will be taking

some hefty batterings I can tell you, and so will Brucie boy’s cock!

Oh, yes! And another thing: lover boy will have to flex his

haunches and wriggle his bum with some vigour to bring his

chopped and desensitised manhood to orgasm. By the time he

has finished his emissions you will both be exquisitely raw and

sore!”


Judy looked back into my eyes. Then, to my relief, her face slowly

creased into an impish grin. Then she gave a saucy little giggle.

“Wow!” she said. “You kinky, vindictive old she-cat! OK! You win!

Let him have it, Cathy! Chop the bastard, and chop him hard!

Make him live to regret and rue the day that he ever dared to

trick and deflower Miss Judy MacDonald of Eubonga Springs!”


Suddenly, I clasped Judy into a tight embrace and kissed her

passionately on the lips. “Attagirl!” I said, “Let’s teach Mr. Bruce

bloody Foster a lesson he’ll never forget!”


Next, on the spur of the moment, I did something that was as

unexpected to me as it was to Judy. I handed her my scalpel.

Then I grinned archly. “There you go,” I said pertly. “You cut

him!”


Judy was flabbergasted by this suggestion. She stared at me in

fascinated disbelief. “Go on” I said. “You have seen me do it

enough times. It’s easy. Just make sure that you chop him to the

hilt, young lady, or, believe me, I will chop him even harder

myself, and then I will make you pay for your disobedience!”


“Cathy, I couldn’t” replied Judy in confusion. “I just can’t bring

myself to do it.”


Faced with this revolt I decided to pull rank again. “Now look

here, young lady. I thought we had already agreed that I am the

boss around here! How dare you disobey me yet again! If I tell

you to do something you do it! And you don’t bloody well argue!

When I’ve dealt with Brucie here I think that you and I had better

have a little chat to sort out your attitude problem once and for

all! Now are you going to do what you’re bloody well told, or am I

going to have to punish you as well as Brucie boy?”


Judy looked away, disconcerted but resentful and rebellious.

There was a long and embarrassed silence. “Well!” I said. “What

is your answer?” Judy sighed deeply. Then she broke. Her face

crumpled and fell. Then she burst into tears.


Well, that was something that I was not expecting! I said nothing.

Instead I embraced her sympathetically. “I’m sorry,” sobbed

Judy, “I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me Cathy. I’ll do it. I’ll do

whatever you say. But you will help me, won’t you?”


Well, after she had composed herself, and guided and advised by

me, Judy did do it! And she did it very well, too. As instructed,

she cut Bruce right to the hilt. And then, going beyond her

instructions, she cut him just a sliver more. Not only did she not

give Bruce a millimetre. She also took a few more millimetres

than she was asked to and cut off just a wee bit more foreskin

and shaft skin than was required of her. And as for Bruce’s

exquisitely sensitive frenulum! Well that was dead meat, every

single sliver of it. Then Judy stitched up the wound. When she

had finished, I embraced her passionately again, and gave her

another kiss, full onto and into the mouth. “Attagirl!” I repeated.

“The bastard had that coming to him. And don’t you see that it

had to come from you? You’ve made the punishment fit the

crime. Cock offended pussy, and pussy made him pay! Is that

poetic justice, or what?”


I then stretched Bruce’s foreskin and frenulum between two glass

plates and dropped them into a jar filled with formaldehyde. I

then sealed the jar, labelled it, and locked it in the safe. “This

trophy is mine!” I explained to Judy. “I shall take it out and gloat

over it when I am on my own in the early hours of the morning! I

shall envy Mr. Bruce Foster as I think of him making love to you.

But at least I shall know that he is not getting quite so much

pleasure as nature intended. He will never again enjoy you

perfectly, as I have, my darling! Instead, an important little piece

of him will be with me.” And again I locked Judy into an ardent

embrace and began kissing her passionately on the lips.


“What do you mean” interjected Judy, in between our kisses.

“What do you mean when you say that you have enjoyed me?

You still are enjoying me, aren’t you?”


“Judy,” I replied. “You know that I love you. But this Bruce Foster

thing must bring big changes. We cannot carry on in the same

way. You cannot serve two lovers. It just wouldn’t work. You

have seen the effect it has had on you tonight. For the first time

ever in our relationship, you have crossed me. And you have

done it twice too. You either have to be loyal to him or loyal to

me, and I think you have made your choice.”


I turned away and started to cauterise my instruments and put

them away. Judy made no answer, and I presumed that she was

pondering my words. Then, behind me, I began to hear slow

rhythmic sobbing. It made me feel a complete bitch, but, even so,

I decided to stay aloof from my lover rather than rushing to

embrace and comfort her.


“Oh, Cathy,” sobbed Judy at last. “That isn’t it at all. I wish I had

never met Mr. Bruce bloody Foster. You’re the only one I want.

Give me the word and I’ll send him packing tomorrow, him and

his tightly cropped cock. I’m so, so sorry that I crossed you. I

promise you that it will never, ever, happen again. You mentioned

punishing me as well as Bruce. Well, go on! Do it! Make me pay

however you like for crossing you, but please, please don’t cast

me away. I couldn’t bear it. I would die.”


I was moved and very flattered, as any kinky old lesbian would

be, by this fervent profession of love from a stunningly beautiful

young girl. My lip was quivering, and tears welled up in my eyes.

On the other hand, I was not prepared to leave it there. The way

that Judy had thrown herself at Bruce with no thought for my

emotions had irked me. Contrite as she now appeared, I still

wanted to punish her, and to re-establish my authority over her

once and for all.


“Judy,” I replied. “You’ve hurt me, you know. I was certain that

you were kissing me off for your future husband. That was one

reason why I had him cut so hard. I wanted to get back at the

bastard for stealing you from me.”


“Nobody will ever steal me from you, Cathy,” Judy answered. “If I

hurt you, hurt me back. Punish me, Cathy, like you threatened to

do. Punish me physically in whatever way you like. But don’t

throw me aside. Don’t deny me your love.”


I cupped Judy’s face in my hands again, and gazed into her dark

brown eyes. Then my face melted into a slow, arch smile. “Yes,” I

said. “Yes, I would like that. Now. Do exactly as I tell you young

lady, and, after I have finished with you, you can count yourself

forgiven.”


Judy looked back at me, contrite and yielding. “Whatever it is,

boss, just say the word and I will do it. I promise you.”


I smiled triumphantly. “Very well, young lady. In the broom

cupboard there is an old riding crop. Fetch it for me please.”


I tried to keep calm while I uttered this order, but my heart was

pounding against my rib cage and my whole body was trembling.

But I need not have bothered. Judy silently and obediently went

to obey my command.


When I had the riding crop in my hands I opened a drawer in one

of the tables and took out an old scalpel. It was one that I had

never used for surgery. A previous incumbent of the practice had

left it, together with a number of other disused instruments.

Using the scalpel as a knife, I then cut off the leather at the thick

end of the riding crop. Next I peeled off the whole of the leather

covering, revealing a thin, supple glass fibre switch. I threw the

discarded leather into the waste bin and grasped the thicker end

of the switch in my hand. I was still very nervous and worried

about Judy’s likely reactions.


Next I went up to the bed that Bruce was lying on and pulled him

down it by the ankles until his legs were splayed akimbo over

both side ends, and his newly chopped cock was about 18 to 24

inches from the bottom of the bed. I then took a pillow and

placed it over the straight, low tubular steel bedstead at the

bottom of the bed.


“Very well, Judy,” I said. “Take off all your clothes please.” I felt a

frisson of sexual excitement run down my spine as I gave these

salacious instructions. Mixed with that, however, was a tremor of

apprehension lest my lover refuse to perform my command. But I

need not have worried. Soon Judy was standing butt naked

before me. God, but she was lovely! What a brown skinned

beauty she was with her jet-black snatch of crinkly, wiry pubic

hair, her shapely waist, her trim midriff, her neat belly button,

her long, meaty thighs, and her pert, pneumatic breasts!


Suddenly two great truths hit me. Firstly, no matter how hard

Bruce Foster’s cock had been cut he was getting the best end of

the bargain if he landed up with it inside my Judy! Despite my

best efforts the lucky bastard was still going to get infinitely more

pleasure and ecstasy than I wanted him to get, and than any man

has a right to on this side of Paradise! Sod it! Secondly, I

concluded that, after I had administered Judy’s comeuppance, I

would do my best to make my peace with her and to continue our

relationship for as long as I could. It would be more difficult when

she had two lovers, but what the hell. How could I ever have

threatened to break my relationship with such an exquisite,

gorgeous and irresistible girl?


Then I jerked myself out of my reverie and back to reality. “Very

well, young lady” I said. Bend over that cushion with your face

just above Bruce’s circumcised cock.” Without a murmur of

rebellion, Judy again obeyed my command.


“Miss Judy MacDonald,” I then said grandly. “You are being

punished on two counts. Firstly, you dissented and rebelled

against legal orders given to you by your employer. Secondly,

you took up with another lover without my full permission and

involvement. Have you anything to say in your own defence? Can

you give me any good reason why you should not be chastised?”


“No, boss,” mumbled Judy contritely. “I’m sorry. I promise I

won’t do it again.”


“That’s good,” I answered, “although it does not prevent your

current punishment. Bruce was sentenced to one cut, across his

bare cock. You are sentenced to six cuts, across your bare

bottom. You will take three cuts from the riding switch for

disobeying my orders, and another three cuts for taking up a

lover without my full permission and involvement. That is three

cuts on each of the two counts, or a total of six of the best. Do

you understand?”


“Yes, boss.”


“As the cuts are administered you will gaze on Bruce’s chopped

cock, and consider that if you had not been so rebellious it would

not have been chopped so hard. Not only was your rebellion

ineffective, young lady. It was also counter-productive. Come on!

Let me hear it! What was your rebellion?”


“Counter productive, boss.”


“That’s right! Now. After the first cut you are to say, `Thank you

for cut number 1, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have

cut number 2 now, please?’ You will then count up the cuts in

that fashion until you have received the full six. You will then say,

`Thank you for my 6 cuts, boss. They sting, but I deserved them.

May I get up now?’ You will then await further instructions. Do I

make myself clear?”


“Yes, b..” Swish, CRACK!!!


Before Judy could get out her reply I gave her bare bottom its

first free gift. Wow, but did I let her have it! For the last few

minutes, the more contrite that Judy had been, the more

incensed it had made me about her previous stroppiness. Judy

was a beautiful girl, and it seemed a crime, almost, to mar the

flawless perfection of her buttocks with six ugly and (albeit only

temporarily) disfiguring weals. But, on the other hand, my lover

needed to be taken in hand. She had stepped out of line and she

needed to be slapped back into it good and hard. As that switch

came down, I was very, very angry with Judy. Her present tears

and apologies were all very well, but she still needed to be taught

a short, sharp, painful lesson so that she would never, ever, dare

to cross me again. “Yes, my girl!” I thought to myself. “Now I will

get even with you! I’ll make you sting, wince and shudder! You

are sorry for what you have done now. But by the time that I

have finished with you, you will be far, far sorrier! Take that!”


CRACK!!!


“Aaaaagh!”


Wow! That first cut was a real sizzler! Judy was clearly shocked at

the force of the blow, and as the cane bit into her bum she let out

an involuntary scream of pain. Then, over the next 4 seconds or

so, as the cut began to sting and smart, she started to let out a

series of low, urgent grunts, “Ngh! Ngh! Ngh!” Then, “Oh, boss!

That stings! That really, really stings!” I could well believe my

lover’s words, for gazing down at her upturned derrière I

observed a deep, livid cut across the dark, dusky meat of her two

buttocks. However, she got no sympathy from me. “Come on,” I

said brusquely. “Get on with it. You have been told what to say.”


Judy composed herself for a short while, and then: “Thank you

for cut number 1, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have

cut number 2 now, please?”


Swish, CRACK!!! Judy’s bare arse took it again, and wow, was I a

mean and spiteful bitch to her! I was still raging and fuming

against my lover, and, in my venom and spite, I brought down

the thin, whippy fibreglass cane right into the furrow that I had

already cut across her bottom; and I brought it down as hard as I

could. It divided the atmosphere with a fearsome audible swish

and then, thin as it was, hit home with a sharp, pistol-like crack.


CRACK!!!


It was with this second cut that I broke her. Judy had taken her

first cut bravely, but this additional indentation, laid exactly on

top of the previous one, was too much. The tingling and stinging,

incrementally added to that from cut number 1, must have felt

unbearable. Judy screamed like a banshee, emitting a loud, high-

pitched, agonised yell fit to awaken the dead.


“Ayyiiiii!” Then, over the next few seconds, as she felt the full

effects of my handiwork, Judy broke into uncontrollable sobs.

“Please, boss,” she howled piteously. “Please! No more, I beg

you, no more! It is more than I can bear! Mercy! I beg you,

mercy!”


I gave Judy time to compose herself, and then I prompted her for

the response. It took 3 or 4 minutes before she could get it out:

“Thank you for cut number 2, boss. It stings, but I deserve it.

Could I have cut number 3 now, please?”


PHHHTTT!!! CRACK!!!


Yes Judy, you can. Take that! Unfortunately for Judy, I was still

in kinky dominatrix bitch mode, and I brought down the third cut,

again as hard as I could, onto exactly the same piece of her arse.

There was now a dark red aggravated weal across the brown

meat of Judy’s buttocks, already beginning to turn blue black.

Then this third cut fell into exactly the same indentation. It was

too much for any super-heroine to endure. Judy gave another

agonised yell and then, to my considerable satisfaction, she rose

from the bed, straightened up, and began vigorously massaging

her freshly caned buttocks. The single aggravated weal that I had

incised into her flesh with my first 3 cuts was insufferably raw and

sore, and it was clear, from Judy’s pained facial expressions, that

the mere act of rudely rubbing it was, in itself, very painful. But

the throbbing was so insufferable that, for Judy, it was clearly the

lesser of 2 evils.


“OK,” I conceded. “Time out. You can have 10 minutes to

compose yourself.” During this respite, I explained to Judy that

the 3 cuts that she had received thus far were for her insolence

and insubordination. The next 3 would be for taking up a lover

without my full permission and involvement. I explained that this

was a very serious rap. It had hurt me and I was deeply

offended. So she was going to catch it just as hard for this second

half of her punishment as for the first half. However, to afford her

some small relief, it was now a different part of her bum, lower

down towards her legs, that was about to catch it; I intended, I

said, to bring down the cane just above her thighs, right across

the back of her hairy cunt slot, where the buttock meat was at its

plumpest and most tender. “That, Judy, is the part of your arse

that sinned against me by allowing the unauthorised entrance of

a male cock,” I explained, “So that is where the retribution will be

inflicted. Cunt meat offended, and cunt meat will be punished for

it. Right. Over the bed again, please!”


When I had Judy in the caning position again I decided to spice

up this second part of her chastisement with some kinky verbals.

“Position your face right over Bruce’s cock,” I commanded. “Now.

Tell me what has been done to it.” “It’s been circumcised, boss.

Very tightly.” “Describe it to me.” “Well, the cock head is bare. It

is still purple, but soon it will callous over to a pink colour.” “Just

answer the questions. Don’t play the prophet. Now, what has

happened to the foreskin?” “It has been completely cut off, boss.”

“And what is there instead?” “An annular cut or incision about 5

inches long, all around the cock shaft, boss. It is very bloody at

the moment, and has surgical stitches all around it to hold the

skin in place.” “Good. And what will happen to that cut?” It will

become a permanent, visible annular scar, boss.” “Good. And

what about the frenulum, the deliciously sensitive triangular flap

of stringy, twangy membrane that joins the foreskin to the

underneath of the cockhead? Go on. Take the cock in your hands,

inspect it closely and give me your report.” “There is no frenulum,

boss. It has been completely cut off.” “And what is there

instead?” “There is a cut along the bottom of the cock shaft, boss,

that stretches to the v-shaped dimple on the underneath of the

cock head.” “And how is the cut skin held in place. Lift the cock

up again, look at it, and tell me.” “There are a row of surgical

stitches along the bottom of the cock shaft, boss.”


Right, I thought, that just about deals with the details of the

surgery. Now let us ram the message home.


“Why has this cock been cut, Judy?”


“For entering forbidden cunt, boss.”


“Did it deserve to take the chop?”


“Yes, boss.” “What about the cunt that it entered? Should that be

punished too for entertaining forbidden cock?”


“Yes, boss.”


“This cock has been scarred and mutilated for life for its sins.

What does the offending cunt meat deserve?”


And so on. I think you must get the picture. Anyway, I got Judy

to accept, by a long series of leading questions, that she

thoroughly deserved to take 3 cuts from the fibreglass rod across

the back of her cunt; indeed, I forced her to admit that, in

comparison with what Bruce’s cock had taken, her cunt meat was

getting off lightly.


“Right, Judy,” I concluded, “Say your piece about your last cut,

and then let’s get on with it.”


Now Judy really did not want to take 3 more slashes from that

vicious cutting, whippy cane, and she answered very slowly and

hesitantly. But at last she got it out: “Thank you for cut number

3, boss. It stings, but I deserve it. Could I have cut number 4

now, please?”



Before I administered the 4th cut, however, I took my opportunity

to admire the fetching view that presented itself to me of Judy’s

shapely derrière and pussy slot. Her leg muscles and tendons

were beautifully tense and taut; on the top insides of her dusky,

shapely thighs, where they met her dark, inviting vulva, there

were two delicate, rippling concave hollows. Then, between these

hollows, the cunt slot pouted slightly open to reveal a thin,

vertical line of delicate, serrated coral pink pussy flesh on the

inner edges of her outer labia. I lustfully drank in the view; it

excited me, but it also made me very angry. I thought of Bruce

bloody Foster ramming his stiff uncircumcised cock between

those two delicate concave hollows, and between those moist,

coral pink lips, and the thought got me mad. “So! You would play

away, would you, madam?” I thought to myself. “And I bet you

enjoyed it as well! But now it is payback time. Yes, I will cool your

courage and enforce virtuous, well-governed and ladylike

abstemiousness on your hot, passionate nature! Remember, if

you shag men, you do it with my permission and involvement,

and you do with decorum and control, not with delirious and

ecstatic abandon. As a reminder not to enjoy cocks too much,

take that!”


PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!


Yet again the cane whistled through the air as I brought it down

again, as hard as I could. Judy’s cunt meat just above the tops of

her thighs shuddered and wobbled deliciously as the cane bit into

it, and her pussy hairs twitched at the force of the blow. I waited

for a few seconds, and then I noted with grim satisfaction that

another deep furrow had been cut into the plump, nubile bum

flesh of both bare buttocks.


“Aaggggghhhh!” yelled Judy with great vigour and gusto. Then,

“Oh! Oh!! Oh!!! OH!!!” she cried out helplessly. Then, “Oh,

please, boss! No more! Please, please stop!”


I waited for a minute or so, for Judy to regain her composure,

and to give me the chance to eye up her caned rump.


Then, “Look at Bruce’s cock,” I instructed my victim. “Do you

think that your cunt meat has been punished as severely as

that?”


Silence.


“Well, come on, young lady! Answer me or I will make you very,

very sorry for yourself.”


“No, boss.”


“What was that? Louder!”


“No, boss, it hasn’t.”


“Right, well let’s even up the score a bit shall we? Go on, say your

piece.”


Again, it took Judy a long time to do it, but eventually she got the

words out: “Thank you for cut number 4, boss. It stings, but I

deserve it. Could I have cut number 5 now, please?”


PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!


This was another beauty, and, again, I placed it right into the

wicked red-blue indentation made by cut number 4. Its effect was

similar to cut number 2. Judy had taken the 4th cut reasonably

well, but to get another one like that in exactly the same place

was almost insufferable. It took a few seconds for her to fully feel

the full impact, but when she did she emitted a violent, high-

pitched scream, “Aaaggghhhh!” Then, for a second time, she

started sobbing uncontrollably, and begging me for mercy in the

most urgent and pitiful fashion.


Well, by now my anger against my paramour was pretty well

vented and I was beginning to feel sorry for her. My pride would

not allow me to curtail her punishment, but I tried to give her

some help.


“O.K., Judy,” I said, not unsympathetically. “Take another time

out.” Judy lifted her head up from Bruce’s cut cock, and rose from

the bed. Then she started to massage her stinging pussy meat, at

first vigorously, and then, when she had eased the initial sharp

stinging and throbbing, she continued rubbing, but more ruefully

and gingerly. It took a few minutes, but at last she stopped her

helpless sobbing, and brought herself under control.


As for me, I was no longer taking much delight in this kinky sport.

By now the lady that I loved was in genuine distress, and I did

not really want to hurt her any more. I had to inflict the 6th cut as

a matter of integrity and principle, and I had to inflict it hard; but

I tried to make Judy’s ordeal as bearable as I could.


“Come on, love,” I said in a kindly and concerned tone. “Let’s get

this over with and then let’s go to bed.”


“O.K., boss,” replied Judy, and she sounded brave and resolute.

Soon she was over the bed again, and chanting the mantra:

“Thank you for cut number 5, boss. It stings, but I deserve it.

Could I have cut number 6 now, please?”


PFFFFTTTT!!! CRACK!!!


Oh, yes! I let Judy have it as hard as before, that is, as hard as I

could. There was absolutely no mercy, no respite from cut

number 6. It was every bit as fierce as the others, and, yet again,

it fell into the single aggravated weal just above the thighs that

had been inflicted by cuts 4 and 5.


Judy yelled piteously at the sharp initial impact, and then, as the

pain escalated over the next few seconds, she took up again her

loud, helpless sobbing. At the same time, she rose from over the

bed and hopped around on both feet, vigorously rubbing her cunt

meat in her efforts to dissipate the horrendous sting in her tail. I

must admit, she looked quite comical, and I permitted myself a

wry smile at her vigorous, cavorting, clown-like antics.


“O.K., love,” I said, when the worst of the initial stinging had

been massaged away. “Bend over and narrate the final response,

there’s a good girl, and then it will all be over.”


I reminded Judy of the wording, and, prompted by me, she bent

over the bed again and contritely repeated the necessary: “Thank

you for my 6 cuts, boss. They sting, but I deserved them. May I

get up now?”


“Yes, Judy, you may. And then I want you to turn and to face

me.”


Judy did as she was told. She stood there at the end of Bruce’s

bed, naked and ravishing. “Right,” I said, “Now I want you to

thank me again for the discipline that I have justifiably inflicted

upon you.”


“Thank you, boss,” replied Judy demurely. Then, of her own

accord, she added, “I richly deserved it, and I had it coming to

me. Please punish me again whenever I need it. It will do me

good, and I promise that I will always submit to it.”


Well, after all that I had put Judy through, I found this profession

very moving, and tears welled up behind my eyeballs.


“Now,” I said, “Next I want you to kiss me.” Judy, her eyes

shining and her face now radiant, came up to me and gave me

one of the most gentle, tender and romantic French kisses that I

have ever enjoyed. In that kiss were love, respect and surrender

to my will. After it I knew that, whether Judy married Bruce or

not, there would always be a place for me in her heart and in her

bed.


“Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s go to bed and celebrate.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Epilogue by Amanda


Since Cathy wrote this story there have been developments in

our relationship. For 2 or 3 years I had suspected, and hoped,

that we might be more than merely friends. Then during one of

our afternoon tea drinking sessions I raised it with her. Well, it

took several afternoons, and many pots of tea, for us to talk

through our feelings for each other, but talk them through we did

and at the end of it all I knew a lot of things that I should have

realised 30 years ago.


This is not the time or place to explain how my relationship with

Cathy is deepening, or how Judy fits into the picture. I would like

to write it up some day, but, for the moment, the ball is still in

spin.


When I read Cathy’s story, and when I learnt why she had

unnecessarily circumcised my 4 sons, and how and why she had

tricked my husband Bob into letting her circumcise him, I was

appalled and fascinated in more or less equal measure. After all,

there are 5 men in my life and, thanks to her, they do not have a

foreskin between them. The lady has wreaked penile havoc

among the men folk of the Douglas family, and I do not know

whether I like what she has done, or, if I do not like it, whether I

can ever fully forgive her for it.


Anyway, all this, in the words of the Bard, is from the present. My

current purpose is to give you an account of the aftermath of my

husband’s circumcision.


It took Bob over nine weeks to fully recover from the pain and

shock of his surgery, and for the first few days after his operation

he was exquisitely raw and sore, and very, very grumpy. As for

me, I was stunned by what Cathy had done to him. I found my

husband’s newly trimmed wick and completely bald, desensitised

cock head fascinating, and I could not wait to try them out.


In contrast, Bob disliked his new chopper, with its cut off foreskin,

its long ugly scar and its cornified knob, once a rich purple but

now the same pink colour as the rest of his cock skin. At first I

tried to cajole and comfort him, but when that did not work, I

started to tease him. The first time that I did this was while we

were in bed and making love, and I got a shock. Bob became

very angry, but also very sexually excited. Muttering heatedly

about his mutilation, he put his stiff circumcised cock into my

vulva and gave me one of the sharpest shaggings I had had for

years.


Well, since then, after I found out the dramatic effect that it has

on him, I have never let Bob wriggle off the hook. When I get him

into bed with me for a fuck, I torment him mercilessly about how

he has been “cut to size,” “brought into line with the other males

of the family,” “skinned alive” and so on. Oh, yes! I really stir him

up. The result is that, despite its advanced age and its

desensitising and disfiguring mutilation, Bob’s cock goes as stiff

as a poker. Next Bob bangs my vulva very, very hard! As part of

my developing relationship with Cathy I give her full and regular

reports on Bob’s performances in bed, and I tell her that I am

eternally grateful to her for what she has done to spice up my sex

life.



I can vouch that, as she has boasted, Cathy has done a very

thorough job on poor old Bob’s cock. When it is flaccid there is

just about enough skin to stretch and fit over it. But when it

becomes engorged the skin is pulled very taut; in short, it is a

very tight squeeze for it to cover and encase the stiffened shaft,

which can only just be crammed into its denuded housing.


I also give Cathy regular reports (which she thoroughly enjoys)

from the bedroom. In particular, I divulge the most intimate

details of how I bait and heckle Bob. I get a real sexual buzz from

teasing him, and from talking about it to Cathy, a lady with whom

I have long had an intimate friendship, and towards whom I have

developed a strong sexual attraction. Here is the gist of one of

my typical teasing sessions, as recently reported to Cathy:


You, Bob Douglas, were getting lazy and complacent, and

you needed a short sharp shock to jolt you out of it. Your

pleasures were just a little bit too generous, free, luxurious

and lascivious. They needed to be trimmed, tightened and

brought under stricter control. Your fun and games needed

to be licensed and rationed. A sparser allocation was

required. You were acting as if anarchic, abandoned and

ecstatic bliss was your birthright rather than something that

was under my discretion and which I graciously

condescended to grant you as a privilege. Well, now your

lusts and desires have been checked, disciplined and

brought under control, and you will be a more virtuous and

a better-governed gentleman as a result of it.


As you can readily imagine, dear reader, 20 minutes or so of this

sort of persiflage gets my husband going nicely. Then, when he is

cursing, muttering and raging in anger and frustration, and his

cock is rock hard, I really let him have it:


Ah diddums! Did naughty Auntie Cathy chop his poor little

willie for him? I bet he can’t get a hard on now, can he, the

pathetic old bastard? Here, let’s hold his willie against hairy

pussy and find out. There he goes. In between the lips of

love. But is he up to it? Does he think he’s hard enough? I

bet he isn’t. I bet he’s just a floppy pussy himself now. Go

on, get out of there. You’re not man enough any more.

You’ve got no edge, no poke. Auntie Cathy has cooled your

courage for you. She’s cut you to size and brought you to

your pipe and slippers, and no mistake. She’s taught you a

lesson you’ll never forget!


Meanwhile, during this diatribe, the very opposite of what I claim

is happening is going on. Bob is trip-hammering my pussy

mercilessly with his big, circumcised, but still very active mutton

dagger. When Bob reached 70 years of age I was expecting our

sexual liaisons to become more sporadic. I also accept what

Cathy says: from a purely physical point of view, circumcision

does make the cock less sensitive and sex more difficult for old

men. But there is more to sex than the physical; and from a

psychological viewpoint Cathy’s saucy snipping has considerably

pepped up our sex life. For a boring old married couple aged 70

and 58 to still enjoy regular bonks is a great thing; and thanks to

Cathy I have hopes that the bonking will continue for a few more

years yet!




 

10 Cathy Hartes Outback Cuts