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.
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, smugly and with a self-satisfied,
triumphant grin on my face. "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.
As I have said, Judy and I cut Bert Bulstrode “low and tight.” We
hacked out the vast majority of his sensitive inner foreskin to
leave only a thin, vestigial strip. Now the opposite of "low and
tight" is "high and tight." Here more of the inner foreskin is
spared but a greater amount of outer foreskin is excised. Which
of these two styles is the more punitive is a moot point. On the
face of it "high and tight" is worse for the victim since his "sore
strip" (as I call it) is nice and thick. It is also more sensitive to
pain and friction, especially when a drastic cut pulls it as tight as
a drum skin up the stiffened shaft. The "high and tight" victim
thus emerges from the jousts of Venus with a sore and tender
cock.
So why then, you may ask, did we cut Bert "low and tight" and
virtually eliminate his "sore strip"? Well we did it that way
because the "sore strip" is also the "sensitive strip." After
circumcision the inner foreskin, like the glans, callouses over
and loses much of its sensitivity; but it is still more sensitive
than the outer foreskin, and this greater sensitivity enhances
coital pleasure.
In short, the "high and tight" guy gets more pain, but also more
pleasure, than his "low and tight" brother. Bert's case was
difficult to call, but we finally decided that our top priority was to
cut off as much of his pleasure as we could, even if that meant
sparing him a bit of pain. You see, Bert was over fifty years old.
His sexual potency was on the wane and we wanted to push him
towards impotency. If he had been a vigorous twenty-year-old
the decision would have been different.
Incidentally, I find this whole debate confusing. The description
"high and tight" refers to the cock when it is in a flaccid
condition and its tip is pointing downward. Under those
circumstances the scar is indeed higher than the scar of the "low
and tight" man. But when the cocks are erect it is the other
way around.
There are a number of offences of a moral or sexual nature that
attract an automatic penalty cut. For example, a man gets it if
he is living with a woman out of wedlock, or if any of his
children were born out of wedlock. Then, if his partner is more
than 4 years younger than him, he takes a penalty cut for being
a dirty old man. For example, if he was born on, say, June 24
and his partner was born on June 25 four years later, then, on
his birthday, his age is 5 years more than the age of his partner.
True, it is only like that for 24 hours, but that is long enough to
attract a penalty cut. I suspect that, in this case, some men get
it when they do not qualify. For example, if a lady is not honest
about her age, and claims that she is younger than she really is,
her man gets a penalty cut on the basis of the information that
she has given us! She’s the liar, but he’s in the mire!
When I am performing a circumcision, the older the man, the
more I cut off. Anyone over fifty gets an automatic penalty cut,
and I am also pretty drastic with men in their forties and
younger. This is what I refer to as my “remission surcharge.”
After all, from a physical point of view, a man of fifty has had
the opportunity for the best part of half a century of perfect sex;
it is only right that he should be made to pay for that exquisite
pleasure with interest. Oh, yes! If ever I am lucky enough to get
a man like that under my knife I give him good cause to regret
the lost, exquisite delights of yesteryear!
In our practice we have a number of ladies who are seriously
obese; the fattest of the lot, however, is called Pauline 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 Cathy, they do not
have a foreskin between them. The lady has wreaked penile
havoc among the men folk of the Douglas family. To make
matters worse, she is pleased and proud of what she has done,
and openly teases me about it. "As for the Douglas males," she
will joke, "I have not amputated their foreskins." Then she will
pause before administering her punch line: "I have amputated
their five skins! _Chop!_ _Chop!_ _Chop!_ _Chop!_ And here
is a very tight one for you, Bob ..._Chop!!!_" Ouch! That gag
can always be relied upon to make me wince! In short, I do not
know whether I like what Cathy has done, or, if I do not like it,
whether I can ever fully forgive her for it.
Anyway, all this, in the words of the Bard, is from the present.
My current purpose is to give you an account of the aftermath of
my husband’s circumcision.
It took Bob over nine weeks to fully recover from the pain and
shock of his surgery, and for the first few days after his
operation he was exquisitely raw and sore, and very, very
grumpy. As for me, I was stunned by what Cathy had done to
him. I found my husband’s newly trimmed wick and completely
bald, desensitised cock head fascinating, and I could not wait to
try them out.
In contrast, Bob disliked his new chopper, with its cut off
foreskin, its long ugly scar and its cornified knob, once a rich
purple but now the same pink colour as the rest of his cock skin.
At first I tried to cajole and comfort him, but when that did not
work, I started to tease him. The first time that I did this was
while we were in bed and making love, and I got a shock. Bob
became very angry, but also very sexually excited. Muttering
heatedly about his mutilation, he put his stiff circumcised cock
into my vulva and gave me one of the sharpest shaggings I had
had for years.
Well, since then, after I found out the dramatic effect that it has
on him, I have never let Bob wriggle off the hook. When I get
him into bed with me for a fuck, I torment him mercilessly about
how he has been “cut to size,” “brought into line with the other
males of the family,” “skinned alive” and so on. Oh, yes! I really
stir him up. The result is that, despite its advanced age and its
desensitising and disfiguring mutilation, Bob’s cock goes as stiff
as a poker. Next Bob bangs my vulva very, very hard! As part of
my developing relationship with Cathy I give her full and regular
reports on Bob’s performances in bed, and I tell her that I am
eternally grateful to her for what she has done to spice up my
sex life.
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!