El Cornudo, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As soon as she had given me that warning, she placed her hands on my shoulders again, indicating with them that I was to lie on the ground on my back. I was beyond making any sort of resistance then, and complied with her wishes. She stood over me, straddling my head, and I knew what the final test was to be.

She again addressed the onlookers in Spanish, all the time pointing at me with an expression of contempt on her lovely face. When she had finished her speech, she looked down at me, saying, "I told them you're not a man to me. To me, you're nothing but my toilet. I told them you love to feed from my bowels."

As I expected, she then settled to a crouched position, with her crotch centered over my mouth. With no order from her, I opened to the widest extent possible, then waited for her to do what had to be done.

To my surprise, it was her vagina that she placed above my waiting mouth, about six inches higher. As she looked back between her legs, the stream started, and she adjusted her position slightly to improve her aim.

I had never before been given her urine to drink, and the taste was entirely new. Even though it was burning hot, and bitter to the extreme, I still welcomed it. The cum that was even then trying to work its way to my stomach was helped along by Isabella's offering, and I was more thankful than revulsed by what she was doing to me.

She had obviously been saving her urine for me, and it took many, many swallows before the last of it joined her lover's semen in my stomach. By that time, I was experiencing an unpleasant sense of fullness there. Knowing that I would soon be expected to send even more to join what was already there caused me to fear I wouldn't be able to do as my wife wished. I made my firmest resolve to make my mind completely blank, and to get through this last test.

Isabella then moved forward slightly, and I could see her anus was now in position. When she had fed her gift to me before, it had been in the dark of night, and I had never seen what was about to happen. I was sure that the addition of the sense of sight would make it even more difficult for me.

Her puckered opening began to expand slowly. Suddenly something very dark in color emerged a fraction of an inch, and then seemed to lengthen as if by magic. My mouth was opened as wide as I could get it then, seemingly with no instruction from my brain. As the thing grew longer and longer, my eyes moved from it and glanced along my lower body. Isabella had lowered her head and was gazing back at me, watching in fascination as her feces dropped closer and closer to my open mouth. Just as I returned my eyes to the fascinating sight above them, the thing broke free and dropped.

There was nothing at all unfamiliar about what was now in my mouth, since I'd tasted it for the past three nights. What was different now was that I could actually see what was happening, and most of all, smell it. The human senses have evolved to react to that particular odor as something to be avoided. My brain, what little of it remained in use, was sending signals to my mouth, ordering it to expel the foul contents. My body reacted to the training Isabella had been giving it, and I closed my mouth and began to swallow her precious gift.

As my throat worked to send her offering to its rightful home in my stomach, I felt her hands on my genitals. She began to punish them as she usually did during our lovemaking, pinching and squeezing as always. The stirrings in my groin were immediate, and I fought to overcome them. I prayed for her to stop doing that to me, since it had always been very arousing, and a sure-fire method of making my penis erect.

She had been doing such things to me for several years, seeming to increase the force and intensity of her efforts each time she did it. There was no way for her to know that she was unknowingly training my body to associate genital pain with sexual arousal. If she had realized such a thing would happen, she would not have done it, knowing that I had to keep my penis in a flaccid state. I was sure she was treating my genitals in that manner now in an attempt to help me avoid achieving erection. Most men's sexual organs would shrivel if a woman did such things to them, and Isabella undoubtedly thought the same would be true of me.

Before I could complete that thought, the second offering appeared. This time, she must have been expelling it with more force, as I barely had time to open my mouth before the thing fell past my lips. The punishments Isabella was giving my penis and testicles seemed to increase in intensity, almost as if she were also becoming aroused. That arousal seemed to communicate itself to me, and despite every effort I could make, I could feel my penis begin to stiffen.

As her third gift was deposited in my mouth, I heard hostile murmurings from the crowd. Her rough treatment seemed to increase in ferocity then, and it seemed as if she truly wanted to tear my genitals from my body. As before, that only increased my own lust, and I believe it was then that my brain simply gave up, and went into hibernation.

As her fourth gift emerged, I felt an entirely different type of pain in my groin, and looked in that direction. I could see my wife's hand just then descending in a quick motion toward my crotch, and felt the immediate burst of pain. As she raised her hand once again, I saw that she was holding a stick, and realized she was using it to beat my cock and balls. She continued to do that as I swallowed her fourth and final offering.

She continued to beat me, even after her bowels were empty. Again and again the stick struck my genitals, seeming to be in a quest to find any unvisited area. By that time my penis was more erect than it had ever been, and when Isabella at last ceased her efforts to punish it, I heard her quietly whisper, "Now he's ready."

She then stood and helped me to the same position. Pointing at my rampantly erect penis, she spoke to the people gathered there. As I looked at Carlos, to gauge his reaction, I saw him glowering at me, one hand on his knife. Isabella seemed to speak directly to him then, and I saw his head nod. At that signal, she grabbed my erect member and pulled me to the cross that I had seen when first entering the village.

She pushed my back violently against the post, then she and Carlos pulled my arms up to the crossbar. One of the villagers handed them leather thongs, and those were used to bind my wrists in place. Isabella then knelt in front of me, pulled my ankles painfully far behind the post, and used a second thong to tie them together.

She held out her hand, and again was given a thong, about the size of a shoelace. Before I had time to wonder what she would do with the thing, she had taken my penis in her mouth. At the same time as she lightly sucked me, she wrapped the thong twice around my shaft, as close as she could get it to my body, but didn't draw it tight, as I expected. Instead, she maintained her grip on both ends of the thong and continued to stimulate my erection.

My wife had allowed my penis in her mouth on only two occasions during our entire twenty years of marriage, and then only for a few seconds. That's why what she was doing to me now was so unexpected, so precious, so arousing. My orgasm was waiting to explode in moments, and the only thought I had was to release my cum. I felt the first wave of ecstasy overcome me, and heard my throat cry out.

At that moment, Isabella jerked the cord with every ounce of her strength. As I try to recall what I felt at a moment, my mind is a blank. "Pain" is too mild a word to describe what I felt then. "Agony" may be closer, but again it's just an empty word. To have one's penis tied off after an orgasm has started has to be the ultimate form of torture, and anything that comes after pales by comparison.

I do know that I lost consciousness then, and knew nothing else until I was awakened by Isabella's slaps to my face. When she saw that I was again able to hear her, she said in a voice filled with anger, "Stay awake! Try to act like a man for once in your life! This is all your fault! Be enough of a man to accept your punishment!"

She slapped me again for emphasis, then again knelt before me. I was unable to make any sort of response, and seemed to be in a sort of dream-state then. I could see the fire burning brightly, and I knew there were people gathered around us, watching in anticipation. Other than that, I had eyes only for my beautiful wife kneeling there, looking fixedly at my engorged penis, which was being thrust back and forth by my body as it attempted to complete its orgasm.

After what seemed an eternity, she held one hand out to her side. I saw something placed in it, and through my clouded senses understood what it was. She was holding the branch that I had cut off the plant I'd been so excited about earlier this day. She began stroking the spines by running her hand from the cut end toward the tip. With each stroke, the needles lay flatter to the stem, until finally the whole thing was less than 1/2" in diameter.

She then looked up at me with the most loving expression I'd ever seen on her face. After holding that gaze for a long time, she finally said softly, "I've wanted to give you to la cactus del amante for many years. Now I will do so. She wants you with all her heart, and soon you'll feel her caresses."

She then lowered her eyes to my penis, still thrusting toward her. She loosely held my shaft in one hand, and then guided the cut end of the stem into the hole. I did not know then why she would do such a thing, but I do know that my whole being was centered on her hand as it held my erection. The constricting thong was slowly but surely producing numbness in my cock, but I could still feel her tender caresses.

She seemed to hold the stem in place, letting my forward thrust push it deeper within me. Again and again my cock pushed forward, and each time the stem disappeared a small bit more. It was nothing more than my own body "fucking" the stem, and thereby impaling my penis on it.

I have no way to know how long it took for the end of the stem to reach the place where Isabella had tied the cord. I do know that when it did, she removed her hand, and that absence was almost more than I could bear. Even though my penis was tingling and burning with the onset of numbness, I still craved to feel her caresses on my member.

It was deathly still in the clearing as she once again looked upwards. Again she paused, then said, "El cornudo, I give you to la cactus del amante." She then began to pull the stem out of my penis.

Her simple action caused the spines to try to become erect. I felt the tips of them dig into the flesh inside my penis, and then I heard someone screaming in agonizing pain. My own throat was aching in sympathy with whoever was screaming. As the screams went on and on, I slowly came to understand it was my throat issuing such sounds, and with that understanding came even more agony.

My eyes had been fixed all the time on what was happening to my penis. I saw, but didn't comprehend, when tiny bumps appeared everywhere on the shaft and the head. Again and again I screamed as Isabella slowly pulled on the stem. I think it was at that point I heard the people giving voice to their own passions, and I didn't need to understand their language to know they were urging her on.

I'm sure she didn't need their urgings, and doubt she even heard them. She seemed to be hypnotized by what was happening, and even over my own ragged cries of pain, and the encouragement from the villagers, I could hear her saying over and over, "Yes! Yes! Fuck him, la cactus del amante."

The spines at last broke through my skin, accompanied by tiny spurts of the blood which was under so much pressure. That flow quickly stopped at the spines filled the holes. Isabella kept withdrawing the stem, stopping only when the dozens of needles were completely erect, and their tips were protruding by at least half an inch.

It was at that moment that I saw her hand drop to her crotch, and immediately heard her wordless cry. Her orgasm was so intense that it threatened to make her fall over, but Carlos moved to steady her, offering his support as her body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

At last she quieted. She looked once again at my face, making sure I was still conscious. She said something to Carlos then, and he walked away to do her bidding. When he returned he was holding a burning brand from the fire. He very carefully handed it to her and then stepped back so everyone could see what she was about to do.

My brain was beyond any rational thought by that time, and it never occurred to me to wonder why she was moving the small fire toward the stem and needles that protruded about six inches from the head of my cock. As soon as the flame touched the stem, it blazed brightly from the resins it contained, and the fire seemed to leap toward my body as it burned.

In a split second, the flame had consumed the parts of the plant that were exposed to the air, and then they began to smolder as they followed the stem inside me. If I had thought my body to be beyond pain by then, I was proved wrong. Again screams tore from my ragged throat, but they were cut short as I blacked out for the second time.

Isabella's resounding slaps to my face again awakened me. She was standing there, and I could see her mouth moving as she cursed me as a coward and a weakling. When my head cleared sufficiently to allow me to understand what she was saying, I caught only the last part, hearing, ". . . as a man. Since you love being treated as a woman, that's what you will become. Since you love being my toilet, that's what you will be."

She then slapped me again to be sure I was fully conscious. Assured that I knew what was happening, she knelt in front of me once more. She then held out her hand to Carlos, saying, "Give me your knife. I'll castrate him for you."

I had eyes only for my wife, squatting there asking for a knife to use to remove the last vestiges of my manhood, and didn't hear any response from Carlos. He must have refused to do what she wanted, for she again said, "Please, give me your knife! You promised I could castrate him, my love. I want to free his balls from his sac and see them dangling from his crotch. I want to hold a torch beneath them, so he can experience that pleasure as the last thing he'll ever feel. His screams as they cook should be very pleasing to you, my husband."

Even her referring to him as "my husband" could not force any reaction from me. I could feel my body slowly closing down, starting with my feet. The last thing I heard was him saying, "No, my wife. It's not important that he be castrated. He'll never again be able to fuck you, or anyone else. Leave his balls, and let them drive him crazy with their demands for sex, with no way for him to provide that relief."

If anything further was said then, I don't know what it was, since it was then that the blackness overtook me. If I had been capable of any rational thought then, it would have been to welcome death as a freedom from the racking pain.

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I have scattered memories of being in a vehicle, and it bouncing as it negotiated a very rough road. I remember at one point standing outside the car, with Isabella and Carlos on either side of me, providing support by gripping my arms. She was telling me to piss, and I was trying to do so to ease the pain in my bursting bladder. In the light of the headlights, I saw my stream begin by shooting a great distance. Then I saw dozens of tiny little fountains spraying in every direction through the wounds where the spines had protruded from me. The pain and burning that produced was enough to again bring the blackness, and I faded away to the sounds of their laughter.

My next memory is of being carried, and through heavy-lidded eyes I could see it was still dark. We entered a building, which seemed to be filled with blinding light. I remember lying on a bed, with Isabella standing there holding my hand. She was speaking to another woman, and I was sure I recognized the voice, but couldn't move my head to look at her.

The woman said, "It looks like he had his visit with la cactus del amante. I can tell she enjoyed fucking him. He's needed that for so long. I don't know how you were able to wait as long as you did. Was it good for you to do that to him?"

When Isabella replied, I knew the identity of the other woman, for she said, "Yes, Mama. It was the best ever. You told me many years ago it would be that way, and now I know you spoke the truth. When the spines broke through his penis, my orgasm felt like death had claimed me. Was it that way for you when you did Papa?"

Her mother replied softly, "Yes, dear heart. There is nothing that can compare with doing that to your husband. I have considered several times doing it to other men, but I know it would not be nearly as special." After a pause, she continued, "You know his penis cannot be saved, I assume? The damage from the spines could be repaired, I suppose, but when he pissed, everything became infected. He'll get gangrene if I don't remove it."

As I once again drifted into unconsciousness, I heard Isabella's voice faintly saying, "Yes, I know. I was afraid you'd try to save it, so I burned la cactus del amante when she was still inside him. I knew that would leave little holes where the spines had been. I was sure his piss would create an infection, and then you'd have to remove his thing. It's not worth saving anyway. He doesn't need it. Cut it off."

Her mother said, "I'd have done it anyway, daughter. There are far too many penises in this world to go to the trouble of saving one more. I see you let him keep his testicles. I wish I'd done that with your father. It would have made him so much more enthusiastic when he services me. As it is, I sometimes have to whip him to the floor to do his duty. You made the best choice."

Isabella then said, "I can see now it's for the best, but at the time I wanted very badly to castrate him. Carlos said it would be better this way, for then his torture will never stop. I'm glad he still has them." She paused then, and through heavy-lidded eyes I saw them hugging, as my wife said, "Thank you, Mama, from the bottom of my heart, for making the arrangements for this to happen. It's the best anniversary present I've ever had."

That was the last I heard for many hours.

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As I write this, it is several months after we returned to our home. Yes, I lived through what was done to me, and have made a complete recovery, in most ways. My return was delayed because of the two-week stay in the clinic. Isabella and Carlos returned before that because of their commitments here at the institute, and also, as they put it, to "begin their new life and husband and wife."

Yes, that's the situation now. They live in the main house, in all ways acting as a married couple. I'm still kept here for appearances, just in case a visitor comes who expects to see me in the role of "man of the house." Of course, I now live in the guest house.

I spend my time preparing materials for my classes at the college and reading the latest publications in my academic field. Most of all, though, I listen for the buzzer to sound, for I know that means my services are required in the main house. I've learned to drop everything and run at my best speed to answer Isabella's summons, and that way avoid the whipping that will be administered if I'm tardy. When she feels the urge of nature's call, she doesn't like to be kept waiting. It seems I live more and more for those precious moments when she is squatting over my face, and I can gaze in rapture at her delicious crotch, and see her wonderful gifts as she offers them to me.

She still continues to abuse my testicles, usually by whipping them or running needles through them. She also delights in whipping the scar tissue where my penis used to hang. A few times she has continued her attentions to the point where I actually ejaculate from the small hole in my groin. It's odd, but sometimes I'm sure I can feel my penis still attached there. All I have to do is look, though, to reassure myself that it's gone forever. I've come to accept that it's for the best. Otherwise, Isabella wouldn't have gone to such lengths to remove it for me.

I have come to understand that some of the things I seem to recall from the ordeal were just figments of my imagination, undoubtedly induced by the tremendous stress. Once when she was in a very good mood, I asked Isabella if she had really wanted to castrate me. That led her to question other false memories I had, and she was able to correct my memory on several points.

She assured me that no matter what she had been forced to do to me, her only motivation was to save my life. She said the villagers threatened to kill me if she didn't insert the cactus branch in my penis, and then they made her slowly pull it out of me, causing the spines to erect. What I had thought was an intense orgasm was actually her reaction to the extreme horror she felt at that time.

Isabella told me that the only reason she set the branch afire was to sterilize my wounds with heat, and she had no way to know it would cause such horrible pain, and even necessitate the eventual removal of my penis. She convinced me that my memory of her wanting to cut off my testicles was not true, and was probably an hallucination caused by the extreme pain I was feeling.

When I recounted what I remembered as a conversation with her mother, she told me I was unconscious when they delivered me to the clinic, and couldn't possibly remember anything from that time. As for any "arrangements" being made to do those horrible things to me, she again assured me that everything in Mexico happened of its own accord, and she had nothing to do with it.

I now know that my memories of that terrible time are flawed, and feel a great deal of gratitude toward Isabella for helping me to correct them. I know we love each other more than ever, and it's only because of Carlos that I'm in this situation. Sometimes when he is using me as a woman, I would like to strike him. It's only Isabella's restraining hands that prevent me from doing so.

Isabella has told me she and Carlos want to have a baby, and so she has discontinued taking the birth-control pills she'd used since before we were married. She is hoping for a girl, so that she can raise it in the manner her mother did with her. The feelings of female liberation run strong in her family, and she wants to pass them on to her daughter. She has also said she hopes her daughter can find a man just like me, who will be a good provider. That makes my chest swell with pride.

In case you're wondering about the "new" species of cactus I found, I should tell you it was not an unidentified plant, just waiting to bear my name. It was a species long known in that area, and had been catalogued almost a century ago. Its rarity, and the fact that it's jealously guarded by the local populace, have kept it relatively unknown.

When I first saw the plant, it was in a unique phase that occurs for only two weeks of the entire year. Before and after that, it is just a normal cactus, and not suitable for the special use to which Isabella was forced to put it. I have often thought how very coincidental it was that we were there during the very small slice of time when la cactus del amante could be used in that manner. And of even greater coincidence is that both our visit, and the special phase of the cactus, should happen on our 20th wedding anniversary.