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“A Cut Above the Rest”

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“A Cut Above the Rest”I am a doctor. I have been practicing medicine for 15 years. I have my own practice and I do minor surgery at one of the clinics in the city. I’m divorced. My husband divorced me in 1975. I mention this because my divorce turned me sour to men. I think that had some bearing on my decision to undertake this venture. One afternoon in 1993, a couple came into my office, a hefty woman, around 45, and a young man around 26 or so. They sat down and the conversation that was struck that day amazed me and left me speechless. The woman sat down and the man stood behind her. She introduced herself then introduced the man. She simply said, “This is my houseboy and personal slave.” She snapped her fingers and this young man knelt down beside her chair, never saying a word. I was shocked. She explained that they lived a different lifestyle from most people. She explained how her slave had given his life to her service. Now I wasn’t born yesterday. I’d read stories about this — I was fascinated. “Well, what can I do for you?” I asked. “We’re looking for a woman doctor to help us. You see, my slave here has agreed to give his manhood to me. We need a doctor to perform the surgery.” I was dumbfounded. I was going to flat out say no. I mean a doctor can lose his or her license for performing an unnecessary surgery like that. However, she told me she understood it was i*****l but was asking me to bend the rules a bit. She explained how she too would want this quiet, and she promised not to make public her visit. She tried to make me understand how significant this offer made to her was. For a slave to offer his manhood was the ultimate sacrifice every woman in her select circle of lady friends desires. Also, she said she had very personal reasons for asking for this unique surgery. She gave me her number and ask me to think about it and then to call her. Well I thought about her visit for two weeks. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Finally I called her. She asked me to come to her home for supper. I arrived at her home around 6:30. She met me at the door and directed me to the kitchen. There I found this young man totally in the nude, making final preparations for the evening meal. We sat down and her slave served us dinner, but he didn’t join us; he stood at attention behind and to her left. At dinner, she explained that her slave had been her property for five years. She worked and he took care of the house and was not allowed out of the house unsupervised. She said he was not supposed to relieve himself without permission. That was where her slave had faltered. She had bought him cock collar after cock collar, but he kept getting out of them. “There’s nothing that pisses me off more than a slave who continually plays with his ugly cock and disobeys my orders. This slave is the hornest slave I’ve ever seen,” she said. She made it quite clear that she was the boss, and that his latest infraction had violated his oath to her. She then took a plate and sc****d off the scraps on her plate. Then she took the scraps from my plate. She set the plate on the floor and her slave knelt down and began to eat them like a dog. I sat there in total amazement. “You know what he did last week?” she asked as I shook my head. “I took him out of his cock collar. He promised that he wouldn’t cum. He was lying in front of the chair and I was using his face and body as a footrest, when my foot just happened to brush against his cock. And he shot a load of cum all over my foot! It was disgusting. Well, that was it. For five years he hasn’t been able to control his urges or his cock. I made up my mind I w slave cleaned up. She said that what she really wanted was not for me to do the surgery, but she wanted me to be present so she could do the surgery herself. In other words, I was to talk her through it. That wouldn’t be so difficult. Castrations are done by farmers everyday (of course on cows and pigs). We talked some time about the operation. “You know something?” she said. “I’m going to miss his balls. You don’t know how much fun they are to torment. I like to put weights on them and watch them stretch. And when I bend him over to put a whip to his backside, it’s exciting to watch his balls dangle between his legs. It gives me something to try to hit. You know, he has some nice balls.” “Yes,” I said, “I noticed that at dinner.” “They’re so big and loose this time of year, it almost seems a shame to remove them.” “We don’t have to remove them if you’d rather not,” I said. “There are alternatives.” “I thought the only way to handle this was to remove his balls.” she questioned. “Oh, heavens no. You see, there are various forms of castration. The most common is the type that farmers do. They are trying to improve their herd so they sterilize all the bulls except their stud bull. They do that by removing the testicles. Another way is to remove the entire genitals. That can be considered a major surgery. I think we had better rule that one out. But the final way is the way that I think would fit your purpose.” With that, I drew a brief drawing of what I was talking about. “You see,” I said, “what we do is basically remove the penis. Not all of it; we’d have to leave a very small stub, giving us room to clamp off the blood vessels. Also, that urfa escort stub will save room for the urethra. He has to pee. You see,” I said as I drew a jagged line across the drawing, “all we have to do is make a cut above the rest, leaving those beautiful balls for you to torment as much as you please.” “You make it sound so simple,” she exclaimed. “It basically is. I mean the penis is only skin and muscle. Contrary to belief, there is no bone there. The biggest problem will be to cut off the blood vessels. Once we deaden and localize the area, the muscles will go limp.” “Will he be awake for this?” “Sure. Once he’s been deadened, he won’t feel a thing.” She looked at me in amazement. “Will his voice change? You know the stories, the ones about the high squeaky voice and all.” “No. And here’s the real beauty of this type of operation… all the male hormones are supplied by the testicles. We’re not removing the testicles. What we are going to do is remove the highly sensitive underside of the penis. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a man cum without rubbing and stroking his penis. By removing the penis, there is nothing for him to stroke. The cruel part is that the juices will be bubbling in his balls. He’ll still be horny, but there can never be release. He’ll be hornier than ever, but he must suffer through it. I mean this is permanent. It’s pretty cruel, probably the worst thing you can do to a man.” “Yeah,” she answered with an evil gleam in her eye. ” But it sure is exciting to think about, ain’t it?” I had to admit that it did make my juices flow. At that time her slave came in. He knelt down at her feet and kissed both of them. We started telling her slave about the surgery. We described how it would be done and what the consequences would be. But before we finished, he began crying. He looked into his mistress’s eyes and asked, “Isn’t there another way?” She reached down and gently brushed his head. “I’m afraid not, Tony. I’ve been patient with you for five years. You just the best slave I can get. Don’t you think so?” He shook his head in agreement, but I could tell he was devastated to be involved in the conversation. Looking at me she asked, “Where do you propose we make the cut?” Motioning for Tony to come over to my chair, I proceeded to use Tony’s penis to illustrate where the final transection would take place, when I marveled, “My what an enormous penis he has. It must be at least 8″ long. It seems a sin to cut off so much beautiful cock. What a waste, when scores of men would love to have this cock. A lot of women, too, I might add.” “Yes,” she said, “too bad he has absolutely control over his urges. I want a slave who eats and sleeps thinking about pleasing me. He says he wants to be my slave, but he concentrates more on his own sexual urges than on mine. And for women who run in my circle, there’s no excuse for that. The whole essence of a female dominant lifestyle is sexual fulfillment for her and sexual denial for him. Tony refuses to be denied. It’s time he accepts denial, or I have no place for him in my domain. I’ve been patient long enough.” She seemed quite determined as I proceeded to illustrate where to place the cut above the rest of his genitals. Reaching out, I took hold of his erect penis, and with my other hand I ran my finger across an invisible line just above his balls. “I’d say we’d remove it right about here, leaving him a short little stub.” But before I could get another sentence out, Tony’s penis spammed right in my hand and a huge glob of cum shot all over my fingers. As I jerked away, this eruption spewed all over the floor. “Oh my,” I groaned, shaking cum from my hand. The woman sprang up and slapped him to the floor and started screaming at him. He was crying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” as she screamed, “Lick this mess up! Lick it up!” Then he was on all fours, licking sperm off the floor. When I returned from the bathroom where I had gone to wash my sticky hands, she had him standing in the corner yelling obscenities at him. She had produced a paddle and was smacking his ass with it. All the while he sobbed, “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it!” But she kept landing that paddle on his butt! “Doctor, it’s you who should be doing this,” she said, offering me the paddle. “It was you hand that he defiled.” Now this is not what I expected. His butt was already red, but he made me mad. I took the paddle and smacked his ass as hard as I could at least ten times. And he kept crying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” “You see, doctor, he has absolutely no control. It’s a perfect waste of a beautiful cock. I can’t even use him as my stud, for no sooner do I put that long hard penis inside me, when he shoots and then looses his hard-on. He’s got to be fixed. He’s disappointed me for the last time. I can’t even bring my girlfriends over as I could never be sure he wouldn’t make a mess on one of them.” “I don’t understand it,” I said. “All I did was simply touch it!” “That’s all it takes… what a tragedy. A beautiful cock gone to hell. I can’t ride it; I can’t even torment it. What a bunch of bullshit… You know, my sister has a slave that has terrific staying power. He’s in control of his balls and goes for weeks before he is allowed an orgasm. He doesn’t cheat, either. He doesn’t sneak urfa escort bayan off and play with himself, either. He turned his balls over to my sister and he’s happy to accept his slave status… But not Tony. He sneaks around, shoots at the drop of a hat, and denies the thing every dominant woman must have — complete control over his sex life. He’s got to be fixed.” Tony was still in the corner, crying like a whipped dog. I felt sorry for him but could understand the situation. So I decided I’d help. We made arrangements to practice so each session, that knife would slice the sausage into two parts and each time I watched, my pussy creamed, thinking about the real thing. Finally the evening came. I arrived at her house with all the surgical equipment. There were several cars parked out front and when I entered, there in the living room were six other women that I had never seen. “Well, I guess this is the night,” my hostess said, greeting me at the door. “Let me introduce you to some of my friends.” As I was being introduced, I found myself shocked and amazed at the way some of the women were dressed. Some wore leather with spiked boots, while others dressed more casually. They apparently were fellow dominants invited to watch the proceedings. There was also a man dressed in a maid’s outfit, walking around in heels. He approached me with a tray and offered me a drink which I gladly took. When we entered the living room, low and behold, there was a totally naked man lying face up in front of the couch and two ladies were resting their feet on him. They were using him as a footrest and one big old fat woman had her foot smack in his face. But the amazing thing is the complete mater-of-factness about the whole thing. Yet each lady I was introduced to was exceedingly nice and friendly. The only seat available in the room was on the couch. “Have a seat, doctor,” the fat woman on the couch said, as she patted the place beside her. I had to step over the man on the floor. And I sat down. “Don’t be shy. This slave is down there to be used . Feel free,” the fat woman said. Well, when in Rome, I thought to myself. I slipped off my shoes and rested my feet on this man’s chest. Once I was seated, the owner of the slave came over and said to me again, “Now you’re sure it won’t hurt too much, right?” “Once he’s deadened, he won’t feel a thing. Though the needles hurt some, we can’t help that,” I assured her. For the next fifteen minutes we ladies talked. They had hundreds of questions to ask and I did my best to answer them. But in no time, we were on our way downstairs. It was time for the thing to be done. Tony was already bound to a sort of X-frame with his hands bound overhead and his legs fastened at the bottem arms of the X. Across the middle, he was also bound with straps around his thighs so he couldn’t move. The rest of the ladies took seats in the chairs provided. One of the ladies I noticed didn’t even hesitate. She raised her dress, spread her legs and after sitting down, forced the man in the maid’s outfit to bury his face between her legs. She simply laid back and prepared to enjoy the so-called entertainment. I remember one other woman saying, “That looks like a good idea,” and she took the naked man who for a time had been my footrest, and pushed his face between her legs also. It was apparent that these ladies were here to have a good time. As we prepared the equipment, the slave’s owner stood in front of the assembled group of women waiting anxiously for the evening’s main event. “Tony,” she said, looking out at the women who were there to watch, “these ladies are here to watch something special. What you’re doing is the supreme, unselfish act any slave can do for his loving mistress. In a way, I’m very proud of you.” With everything now ready, I sat down with the other ladies. Slowly some of them began a soft chant… “one last cum, one last cum” The ladies in the room chorused the chant, “One last come… one last cum…” Tony’s penis was erect and firm as his mistress took her hand and gently stroked his cock. It wasn’t even ten seconds and his balls shot a geyser of sperm. His mistress shook her head and whispered, “Even now he can’t last longer than a few seconds.” The room was full of electricity. The chorus “One last cum,” the stroking of the penis and the moans as Tony orgasmed his last time. Cleaning the mess, his mistress wiped his cock and balls with alcohol. Then taking the needle, as we had practiced, all eyes watched as the needle slid underneath the skin at the base of the penis. She squeezed the fluid in, then removed the needle and injected it again, only underneath where she had made the first injection. She did quite well. Only this time it wasn’t a sausage. It would take five minutes for the area to deaden enough to proceed. Next, she took the clamp and about half an inch above his scrotum she applied the clamp and tightened it as tight as she could. This of course would restrict the flow of blood, allowing her to seal off the blood vessels once the transsection was made. His penis was perfectly limp now. It hung long and lanky. She took it in her hand, flipped it back and forth, lifted it and let it go, watching it swing freely. Looking at Tony, she took the needle and poked the base escort urfa of his penis. “Do you feel anything, slave?” she asked. “No, nothing, Mistress.” he answered. “Is there anything you’d like to say before the thing is done?” she asked. “Mistress, I would like to say that I understand.” With courage, he looked out at the ladies who were creaming with excitement from what they were seeing. He stoically said, “And all you other ladies here, I want you to know that I’m giving my mistress my penis because I love her, and I want her to be happy. As my mom told me, I’ve always wanted to be a slave, ever since I was in junior high school. But I haven’t been a very good slave. I have been too selfish and uncontrollable. I hope this will make me a good slave.” “Tony,” his mistress said, with a proud look in her eyes, “I’ll bet after this you’ll be the best slave that any woman can have. It’s a great sacrifice you’re making for me and today you’ve made me very very proud.” With that, she picked up the knife. It wasn’t a surgical knife. She had insisted she use one of her kitchen knives. “It adds excitement to it,” she said to me. And I guess that’s true. I’ll bet there’s not a woman out there who has cut through one of those thick hot dogs or sausages and hasn’t in her mind thought, “what if this were what’s-his-name’s cock!” Besides, I had taken the knife to the clinic and sterilized it. Reaching out with her left hand, she took the glans of his penis and stretched it straight out. She held the knife in her right hand and brought it within inches of his penis. Now I have to relay what was happening from the audience. all eyes were on the knife, but each lady had either a hand or a face in her pussy. The woman next to me had taken her breasts out of her outfit and was rolling her fingers and kneading her erect nipple and with her other hand she was furiously rubbing her pussy. Her eyes, as big as saucers, were fixed on the knife and from from her lips the words, “Doit, do it, doit,” could be heard. In fact, every woman was on the verge of sexual explosion as each one got so wrapped in it. I too slid my hand down into my panties and rubbed my clitoris. I couldn’t help it. And soon, more of the ladies took up the chant, “Do it, do it, do it.” And we watched. And we watched. Pulling his penis even more, she let the knife blade slowly descend until it came to rest on that invisible line that lay ‘a cut above the rest.’ In less than a few seconds, there would be no long heavy cock hanging in front of us, just empty space. Then, when she was sure everyone was looking, I saw her fingertips on the knife turn white and I knew she was pressing it into that cock – she was going to really cut it off. I started rubbing my pussy really hard then, loving what I was seeing…and then, loud gasps and moans of ectasy went out througout the room as we all watched her saw that knife back and forth through his cock. When the knife was halfway through his meat one woman shouted out in her orgasm, “Oh fuck YES!”. I could feel my own cum mounting in my cunt as I realized how much I was loving seeing a huge cock get sliced right off. She kept sawing away at that now useless cock, and sooner than I liked, it was done. The cock fell onto the floor with a soft ‘thud’ and the room erupted in cheers and applause and cum…. She bent down and lifted it for all to see. From her left hand hung the ‘penis of many troubles.’ It would cause no one trouble anymore. The women all moaned and seemingly erupted. They literally shook in their chairs as they orgasmed to what they had seen with their unbelieving eyes. I too uncontrollably exploded in the best orgasm I had had in years. It was purely Freudian. But it was more than my libido could stand. Call it penis envy. Call it sadism. Call it anything you want, but my pussy shook and I simply closed my eyes and blacked out for nearly a minute. When I came to, I found my hostess busy preparing the wound; so I jumped up to help. When I was finished, we released Tony who looked beaten but in good shape. I took him upstairs to lie down and rest. I administered him a shot to make him sleep. Then I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. Returning to the dining room, I found all the ladies around the table. Someone had washed Tony’s penis, and it lay on a tray. Each woman reached out and squeezed it or touched it in some fashion. There before them lay the ‘penis of many troubles.’ Tony’s mistress seemed to have a little regret in her voice as she said, “I wish I hadn’t had to do it.” “He had the most beautiful cock,” she said, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger. “I just wish he could have controlled it.” “What are you going to do with his penis?” one of the ladies asked. “I’ve got a beautiful decorated jar. I plan to keep it as a reminder of this day. That way Tony can, from time to time, look at it and remember. It will help remind us both of what was sacrificed this day.” I checked on Tony off and on for a few weeks. He healed fine and the skin covered over the wound, giving him the tiniest little stub. Tony’s problem was solved. There wasn’t enough for him to accomplish an orgasm. I haven’t seen them for years. However, that Christmas I received a nice Christmas card from Tony and his Mistress. From what Tony wrote on the card, I could imagine that things were running smoothly at their home. Tony wrote, “Thank you for all you help. Come this Christmas season you will have truly helped me to understand that it is more blessed to give than to receive.”

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