Making Things Safe

As the fog lifted from my mind, I realized that I was still in the chair, but that there were ropes being tied. My wrists were already secured behind the chair, and as I gazed blankly upward, I could see Holly out of the corner of my eye working at my feet. My right was being bound to a chair leg. I started to kick out my left foot, but Holly was right on top of it. I was still foggy enough, that I couldn’t fight with all my strength, and so quickly lost the only battle that Holly would have to face. I sat up straight in my chair, and realized that I could probably get my arms up and over the back. I began this progression a little too late. Just as I reached the top of the chair, Holly grabbed my interlocked wrists and pulled them back down. I may have been the stronger, but she could stand back there and put her weight on one point. And then she looped a length of rope over the knot and secured it to the center post.

It finally occurred to me to speak. “What are you doing, Holly?” She seemed startled to realize that I had spoken.

“Hmmm. I forgot about that,” she said, almost as though I hadn’t spoken. She looked quickly around the office, and apparently did not find what she was looking for. Finally, turning back to me, she said, “Well, we’ll get to that in just a minute.” She tugged on the ropes a little, and then wheeled the chair to the center of the room. “Comfortable?”

“Actually, no,” I responded, a little disconcerted about the goings-on. “I’m frankly quite confused, and would appreciate an explanation.”

Holly looked at me, chewing her lip in thought, and then turned around and shut the door. “The problem is, there is nothing soundproof about this place.” I raised my eyebrows in alarm, and was starting to get a bit concerned. I struggled a little at my bonds. “I don’t suppose you would be quiet for a little while, would you?” She smiled, and let out a laugh, almost as though we were two friends just sharing a good joke. But that could not have been further from the truth. She stopped laughing and looked back at me. “No, I don’t suspect so. But we need to talk.”

“Talk?” I asked incredulously. “It doesn’t look like we’re in talking posture here.”

“True enough,” she said, nodding her head. “But with what we have to talk about, it’s better if you can’t move. You see, actually, I’ll be doing the talking.” She seemed to be wrestling with a decision in her mind. Finally, she settled herself in her mind. She still had plenty of the rope she had brought along, and now I saw something else on the desk behind her, although I couldn’t quite make out what it was. To my shock, Holly began to unbutton her jeans.

“Excuse me? What are you doing, Holly?” I asked, thinking perhaps that set-up was her scheme.

“Oh, don’t get a hard-on,” she retorted. She let her jeans drop to the floor, revealing thick, athletic thighs, and white cotton underwear covering what was obviously a healthy crop of pubic hair. Kicking off her shoes, she removed her jeans completely and set them on the bookshelf, out of the way. “This is completely pragmatic. I was going to have to do this anyway. It’s just now I’m doing it a bit early.” Having made up her mind, she moved without hesitation, methodically completing her tasks. Next she removed her underwear, turning to hold the desk as she removed them from her feet. Her rear end was loose and bouncy, but well-rounded and appealing. Picking up her underwear, she walked over to me - underwear in her right hand, rope in her left - and straddled my lap with her nakedness. I was stunned, and about to say something, but she immediately put her lips to mine, and kissed me hard. She began to put her tongue in my mouth, and I found myself responding before I knew was happening. But as I did this, she pulled away. I was left with my mouth open, grasping for her. My mouth hung agape for just a moment. A moment was all she needed. The underwear in her right hand was being pressed into my mouth. I tried to push it back out, but it was to no avail. She had time and leverage on her side once again, and before long, the underwear was jammed to the back of my throat. The rope secured it in place in no time at all.

“Now,” she said, backing up and crossing her arms under her large bosom, “we can talk.” I struggled more aggressively now, only to find that the knots were secure. Holly apparently knew what she was doing with ropes. “Do you know who David Jones is?” I nodded, and I felt my heart start to pound a little faster. I had bad feelings about where this was heading. “Good, that will save on the history lesson. The reason that I wanted to have this chat with you, Dan, is because you have some bad habits that lead somewhat to the same things that led to Jones’ demise. He eventually ran off with a board member, leaving the church wondering what happened, and that was messy.” She paced a little now, casual in spite of her nakedness from the waist down, and put her hands on her hips, when she wasn’t using them with her speech. I was enamored by her curves – hips, butt, and legs, smooth in themselves, but together an even more appealing package – but was growing a little more concerned with current events. She was much too flippant, in my mind, considering the discussion.

As I watched, with my mind going in swirling circles, she continued. “I know you think you’re discreet. You check out Alison as she passes by, or sneak a peak at Pam when she’s talking to someone else. I’ve caught you looking at me, and I’ve even seen you scanning me when we talk.” She paused, and looked directly at me, hands on her hips. “I know that’s not who you want to be. I am sure that you try your very hardest to change, and to keep your eyes to yourself. But a couple of things I know. First, you can’t. You’ll keep staring, ogling, sneaking peaks, and make the ‘attractive’ ladies feel uncomfortable. Second, I know where it will lead. Eventually, one of us will be led astray, and will ultimately run off with you, leaving the church once again destitute. I don’t want to see that happen again.” I pled with my eyes, wishing I could argue, or tell her that I wouldn’t be that way, anything. But she seemed to know what was going through my mind. “And now we come to the gag. You see, I know what your arguments would be at this point. And I’m telling you I wouldn’t buy any of them. You won’t change, because you can’t.” She paused a moment to let that sink in. “So, in part, if it helps, you can look at this as a help. Because I want to help. You . . . the church . . . you get the idea.” She smiled that infectious smile again. I started to squirm. I didn’t know exactly why, but I was getting very anxious, and could feel my breath getting shorter and raspier in fearful anticipation.

“So, now you’re wondering . . . so where is this all going? Why am I tied up with a gag in my mouth?” She crossed her arms again, put her weight on her left leg, and looked at me squarely as though I were one of her children whom she was in the process of scolding. “This is what’s going to happen. I want to prepare you, so that it is not a shock. I’m going to remove your genitals.” She said it casually, but it hit me like a death knell. I struggled against my bonds furiously, and she shook her head sadly. “You know it has to be done. It’s the only way, really, to assure that you become a better man.” I felt a tear trickle out of my right eye, but I was beyond embarrassment over little things such as that. I was now terrified. Unconsciously, I drew my bound legs together as best I could. Holly dropped her arms and shook her head. “It won’t be as bad as you’re making it, Dan. It won’t take long, if you don’t struggle.” At that, I fought against my bonds, looking for a loose knot to get my hands free from. I tried to yell, but the gag was secure, and blocked more than my breath. I stopped for a moment, as fear virtually paralyzed me. “Of course, you’ll probably struggle, and so this will take some time, and will be much less than pleasant. But that’s ok. I’ve got time.” Then she truly shocked me as she began taking off her shirt. She noticed the widening of my eyes as the shirt came up over her head and was tossed onto the bookshelf along with her jeans. “Don’t get excited, Dan. I’m not doing this for you. I simply don’t want to get blood on my clothes.” I nearly cried. Her bra followed the shirt, revealing her large, firm breasts, with large round nipples taunting me with the imminent loss of my manhood.

Having informed me of her doings, she set to work. Not quickly, as though working with a deadline, but not slowly either, as if she were torturing me. She was steady, methodical, with a task at hand that needed to accomplished. “Now, Dan, are you going to cooperate?” She stepped in front of me, and putting her hands between my legs, pulled gently outward. My legs didn’t budge. Holly frowned. “So, the hard way, eh?” She shook her head again, and then set her jaw. Placing her right knee between my thighs, she began pressing firmly downward, using all her weight on the one point. I held my legs firmly together, sitting myself as far back in my chair as was possible. Once again, though, time and leverage were both on the side of my assailant, and she knew it. My legs were pinioned to two different chair legs, so compounding my dilemma. She had her knee positioned close to my knees, where my strength would be least. Right in front of them, she had her hands placed, and was pulling outward, although not with all her strength. There was no point. The knee was doing the real work. The weight made keeping my legs together difficult enough, but she was using her knuckles and kneecap to create pain in the side of either thigh. Ultimately, this made it even more difficult to keep focus on my only hope, false as it was. It seemed like forever, but it really didn’t take her long at all to accomplish this phase of her mission. Her knee finally found some give, and my legs were separated slightly. As soon as she had access, she slid the whole leg between my knees. This was followed by the left leg. This battle wasn’t nearly so difficult as her right leg, because my legs were already spread, albeit just a little bit. I knew that my hope was fairly gone, that once my legs were moving outward, that keeping them together at any point afterward would be virtually impossible. And so it proved.

Holly was now standing, knees bent forward, between my legs. She spread her legs slowly, until my thighs were pushed outside the corners of the chair cushion. I still had myself pushed back as far as I could in the chair, and so it was really just my knees overextending the chair at this point. She pulled my shirt out of my pants and lifted it up over my head so that it would not get in her way. I relaxed momentarily as she set to her next task. She reached for my belt, and I wiggled my pelvis and torso as best I could to prevent her from getting a grasp. It was fruitless, though, and almost comical, for there would be no deterring her on something so simple to overcome. She opened the belt, and then released the button and slid down the zipper. My underwear was now visible, with my erecting penis bulging underneath. Holly raised her eyebrows at me, as if mocking such a childish response. She then started to pull down on the sides of my jeans. Obviously, they weren’t going to go very far, but she knew that, and had her next move prepared as well. She reached behind me, and pulled on my bottom, moving me forward on the seat. I tried to fight, but terror was starting to overcome me. As she pulled me forward to the front of the seat, my legs were spread wider, and my groin started to stretch painfully. I was now helpless, watching my fate, almost as a spectator. She didn’t need to get my pants down far, and she had no intention of doing so. She loosened them on the sides and in back, slowly, methodically, but inexorably moving them down my thighs and buttocks enough to loosen the fabric in front around my exposed groin. She focused next on the underwear, pulling it down as far as it would go easily on all sides. The cotton was loose enough, though, that this was not a serious concern.

Reaching over to my desk, at her right, she opened the center drawer. “Now, if only you have some . . .” she began, as she laid her hand on the object she was looking for. “Good!” she said with delight, as she pulled out a large pair of scissors. Holding them in front of my face, she opened and closed them for effect. “Hmm,” she said, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head in approval. “They seem sharp, too.” She smiled at me, and said, almost soothingly. “This won’t be too difficult, then.” Putting the scissors in her mouth, she loosened the underwear around my gonads as best as possible to create the best possible exposure. My manhood was long and loose, not hard, but full. She carefully worked her left hand inside my underwear and under my masculine package. I felt myself stiffening at the touch, although not to full erection. Holly took no notice. She was simply doing a job. She scratched along the underside of my groin, looking for the connection of my scrotal sac to the pelvis. Finding it, she slid her middle and fore fingers underneath my package, while sliding her thumb over the base of my penis. She removed the scissors from her mouth, holding them in her right hand. She took a grip on my package with her left hand that was firm and secure. I wriggled and twisted, but I was stretched in too many places to effectively do anything; and her left hand now had the only grip that was necessary. My body to Holly at that point was merely a necessary nuisance. Her focus was completely on one small package of flesh. As she moved the scissors down into my stretched out groin, she pulled her tightened left-handed grip outward, away from my pelvis, and placed the blades between her fingers and my pubic bone. She slid the scissors to the side, as far as she could maneuver them, before looking at my sweating face, and saying, “I’d like you to watch this. It will help the finality set in.” She didn’t need to make such a suggestion; my eyes were locked in horrific fascination on the scene before me. “Brace yourself. This is going to hurt a little.” She spoke glibly, mockingly. She was doling out her own form of justice, and my obvious terror was part of the punishment. With that, she began closing the blades. My back and butt tightened, and my legs squeezed into her thighs uncontrollably, and I let out a muffled scream, as a pain beyond my reckoning tore through my pelvis. It is fortunate that the shears were sharp, as I was not sure that I could stand the longevity of the agony. What seemed an eternity was actually all of about 30 seconds, as Holly closed the blades firmly, opening to get further into flesh, with each bite tearing away more of my doomed manhood. As the blades closed truly together with a “snap!” that seemed to echo, I felt tears roll down my cheeks. I looked briefly down my groin, a mass of blood and hair, with a gaping wound, and felt myself drifting away.

Holly was not finished. My genitals she placed in a plastic bag that was resting on my desk, saying, “I don’t want to leave them where you can find them again.” It was then that I noticed what else was sitting on the desk. It was the prong to an electric griddle. The griddle was nowhere to be seen, but the thick metal prong was plugged into the wall by extension cord. It was for this that she now reached. Apparently, she had been letting it heat up since I had been knocked out at the beginning of this escapade. This was a well-planned, well-time operation. The light on the prong had just gone off, indicating the desired temperature had been reached. Holly continued at her businesslike pace, setting the oven-hot prong into my bleeding groin, and drawing over the expanse of the wound, cauterizing it as she went. I let out another noiseless scream. “I don’t want you dying at my hand, Dan,” she said, matter-of-factly. I looked down again. My blackened groin was now covered by my underwear, but the smell of burnt flesh assaulted my nostrils. I was in agony, but I almost dared to hope that at least it was over. But that was not the case.

Holly walked behind the chair, and untied the knot that secured my wrists to the center chair post. Pulling my head forward, she lifted my arms, not ungently, over the top of the chair back, and pulled me to the front of my seat. I was limp, and unable to fight, exhausted as I was in pain. “Come on, Dan, just a little bit more and then we’ll be finished.” She pulled me forward off the seat, and I fell helplessly to my knees. Setting aside the metal prong, she laid me forward, so that I was on the floor on my face, and my feet were still secured to the chair legs. Kneeling beside me, she spoke to me again, telling me what was about to happen. “Now, before I go, I’m going to leave a message behind, so that everyone knows that you’re no longer a threat.” She straddled my back, sitting on my shoulders, with her soft, round behind pressing against the base of my skull. Then she pushed my pants and underwear down to my knees, with much more ease this time than previously. She picked up her heating prong again, and leaning forward over my bare bottom, said, “This could take a little time. I want to make sure that it lasts. So please, bear with me.” With nowhere to move to, I could only tighten against the anticipation. She moved the makeshift brand down to the lowest, most sensitive part of my right buttock and began writing. I thought I would die. She spelled out the letters as she wrote across my cheek. “S . . . A . . . F . . . E.” Minutes it took, but the pain was there long afterwards. She continued on to the left cheek, and on this side she seared the date, reciting it to me as she worked.

When she finally was done, she set her brand to the side, and turned around so that she was straddling my shoulders, with my head between her thighs. “When you wake up, you will be taken care of. Don’t tell them about me. It will do no good, and then any possibility of your staying will be gone. I have an alibi, and I will get away with it.” She looked sadly down at my tortured face, and shook her head. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. But I think we will all be better off now.” She stood up on her knees, and lifted my head up between her solid thighs. Then she began to squeeze. Fighting to hold onto consciousness, the irony struck me that I was being smothered by a beautiful, naked woman that I could do nothing to, nor could I ever again. With that thought, I despaired, and felt the room spin. “Good-bye for now. I hope you don’t think ill of me forever.” Still holding my head between her thighs, she reached down and closed the cloth over my nose again. And that was the last I knew.