PAPER CUTS

Chapter 4

It was probably less than a month after that night when we took the next step.  I was feeling bitchy after a bad day at the office, and knew David was in for some pretty strong punishment that night, which was a Friday.

We spent some time at the computer, engaged in our regular "foreplay," which by then we always did in the nude.  After about an hour, I was pretty turned on, and, oddly, that seemed to increase my anger.  David was sitting beside me, with his little pecker jerking around, and the pre-cum glistening in the light.

Something seemed to snap, and I gripped the tip of his cock between my thumb and forefinger.  I pinched it as hard as I could, then stood and pulled him up with me.  I almost yelled at him in my fury, saying, "Get the bathroom ready!  I've had my fill of your worthless little dick!"

I then turned and walked from the room, leaving him standing there in shock.  As I hurried down the hallway to the office, he almost ran from the computer room, heading toward the bathroom with several sheets of paper in one hand.

With every step I took toward my destination, I seemed to become even more angry.  Somehow, it seemed to me that everything bad that had happened to me that day was my husband's fault, and I could think of nothing else but punishing him in a way he'd never forget.

When I reached the office, I turned on the light and began to set out the things we'd need for this night.  I placed a bottle of cleaning solution and a roll of paper towels on the table with the paper cutter, and then opened a drawer in my desk.  We had placed three things in there several weeks before, so they'd be in readiness when needed.  The overwhelming anger and lust that warred in my brain, and indeed in my whole body, told me they were needed right now.  I took the two lengths of wire and the pair of pliers out of the drawer and placed them on top of the desk.

David entered the room at that moment, and came to a stop as he saw what I was doing.  Neither of us spoke a word, and both seemed to be frozen in time.  The only movement in the room was his cock jumping up and down, and the only sound was our rapid breathing.

I said nothing, merely pointed to a cleared area on the desk, next to the pliers and the wire.  He was equally mute as he walked toward the desk as if in a hypnotic trance.  With no pause, he turned his back to the desk and lay back over it, both feet still on the floor.  He then spread his legs and looked at what I had placed there, again seeming to be hypnotized by what he was seeing.

I had required him to keep his pubic hair shaved for several months by that time, and the effect of his extremely erect cock, combined with the stretching induced by his position, made the thing seem larger than ever before.  His excitement was evident in the steady throbbing of the thing, as well as the string of pre-cum that trailed from it like a spider web.

We both knew what needed to be done next, and he showed no surprise when I picked up one of the wires and loosely wrapped one turn around his shaft, close to his body.  Through my ever-tightening throat, I ordered him to strain as hard as he could to make his penis grow to its maximum extent.  As soon as he'd obeyed me, I pulled the wire as tightly as I could, and then double-looped it.  I quickly twisted the ends together, then stepped away.

I said simply, "It's your choice.  Either tighten it, or take it off."

Like a snake approaching a mouse, his hand reached out to the pliers.  He picked them up, and equally slowly moved them toward his waiting cock, which was beginning to darken slightly.  He looked at me for several seconds, as if trying to judge whether or not I was serious.  Finally he placed the jaws of the pliers on the twist and started to tighten it still more.

It was fascinating to watch my husband lying there, with a wire wrapped tightly around the base of his penis, and his hands using pliers to tighten it even further.  I knew then that we had both made our decision, and the time had come for my lifelong fantasy to be played out.

As soon as he had finished, I picked up the second wire.  I placed it about 1/2" above the first and duplicated my efforts in wrapping it around his shaft.  With no urging on my part, he again used the pliers to tighten the wire until it almost disappeared from sight beneath his flesh.  His cock, which continued to darken, was almost still by then.  It was as if it knew what was in store for it, and that knowledge had calmed its frantic jerking.

David returned the pliers to the desk top, and I took one of his hands and pulled him to his feet.  No words were needed then, for we both knew our destination.  It was a matter of a few steps to reach the paper cutter, and we were soon standing in front of it, in the positions we'd practiced for such a long time.  The blade was raised high, standing straight up from the pivot point on one end.  The cutting edge gleamed in the light, mute testimony to the care David had taken with cleaning and sharpening it.

Again in complete silence, he pressed his abdomen against the platform of the cutter.  I placed my left hand on his cock, forcing it down to the surface, and was pleased to see that the tip was almost at the 7" mark.  It was ironic that his final erection would be his largest ever, a telling testament to the degree of arousal he was feeling.

I brought the handle down until the cutting edge was resting on the top of his purpling shaft, then had to tell him to back up slightly so the blade was between the two wires.  As if in a trance, I raised the handle about halfway.  Then, while holding it there, whispered, "Tell me."

No further instruction was needed.  Through his almost-closed throat he said huskily, "Please do it.  Cut it off me.  Please."

That had been my intention all along, and almost before the last word had been spoken, I slammed the handle down with all the force I could muster.

I'm sure we both cried out, I with the overwhelming pleasure I was feeling at finally acting out my fantasy, and he with the pain of the cutting, along with the mind-numbing frustration he experienced because he couldn't cum.

As we had predicted, the amount of blood that sprayed from the wound was minimal.  There was a slight amount on my left hand, but none on my right.  Both sides of the blade were splattered, as was a small area of the platform.  So far our plan was working to perfection.

I picked up his severed cock and held it there for our mutual examination.  He was whimpering softly, more from the need to cum than the pain, as his glazed-over eyes stared fixedly at his former playmate.  It was still just as hard as ever, and felt just as always in my hand.  However, I knew that if I were to pinch or slap it, he wouldn't feel it.  I'd miss that part.

After several seconds, I handed the thing to him to hold while I quickly cleaned the paper cutter and the table of all traces of blood.  That was soon accomplished, and without a word we left the office, heading for the bathroom.

When we arrived, I saw that everything was in readiness.  David had set out the butcher knife that he had sharpened, along with a second pair of pliers.  The papers he'd been carrying a few minutes earlier were scattered on the floor.  We had been printing those papers for many weeks by that time, knowing they would be an important part of this night.

Each sheet bore an image of one of the photos we'd found on the Internet.  Every image showed cock after cock being prepared for removal, being removed, or the man's empty crotch after removal.  I knew that anyone seeing those images would realize David had borne a long-time fascination with the subject.

By then my own arousal was interfering with my ability to think straight, and I knew I had to cum right away.  David had assumed his position, kneeling at the edge of the open toilet bowl, with his bloody crotch pressed against the porcelain.  I dropped the bloody paper towels in the toilet and flushed it.  We both watched the things swirling around and then disappearing, knowing that something much more solid would soon be joining them.

As David looked upwards I said, "Fuck me with it.  It wants to fuck me one last time."  I then spread my legs and stood close to him, soon feeling the thing enter my burning pussy for the last time ever.

I barely had time to react to how cold it felt, as compared to the countless times it'd been in me before.  Seemingly even before he had pushed the head in, my orgasm began.  I'll never know how I was able to remain standing as the powerful emotions swept over me.  Over and over I recalled how it had felt, how it had looked, and most of all how it had sounded when the blade impacted his cock, and then continued on as if nothing were there.  Wave after wave of lustful arousal coursed through my body, seeming driven to new heights when I looked down at his ruined crotch.

Finally I regained my senses, and my breathing evened.  I knew it was time for the final step.  I picked up the pliers in one hand and took his cock from him in the other.  After I had knelt beside him, he held the knife blade against his stump.  I held the severed end of his thing against the other side of the blade, and then untwisted the wire.

As the wire loosened, a torrent of blood rushed from his cock.  It splashed against his crotch, the knife, and his hand, then ran down his body to the floor.  I had been careful to not get any blood on my hands, and they were clean as I dropped the shriveling tube of flesh in the water.  At my quiet, "Flush it," he pulled down on the handle.  Again we watched in rapt fascination as the bowl emptied, and the shriveled pink turd disappeared from sight forever.

________________

There is very little to add to my story, except to say that I quickly called 9-1-1 and gave my very best imitation of a hysterical woman.  I knew that part would be hard to fake, so I put myself in the proper frame of mind by thinking of the time when my very favorite kitty, Miss Fluffy, had been run over by a car.  The tears were genuine, and the emotion in my voice must have been pretty convincing as I described finding my husband in the bathroom, and saw that he had done "something horrible" to himself.  The dispatcher must have decided the best way to deal with me was to immediately send a police officer and ambulance, and that's what he did.

I rushed to the bedroom and put on a pair of thin panties, along with my sheerest nightie, which was also part of our plan.  We were both sure that the men who responded to my call would be more than a little distracted by my easily visible breasts, and the hint of my pubic hair.  That should make them overlook any small detail we had forgotten, and maybe mask what had actually happened. 

I then went to the front door and switched the exterior light on and off as instructed by the dispatcher.  In no time at all, I heard the sirens and saw the flashing red lights.  When the policeman ran to the door, I threw it open and tearfully took him by the hand and literally dragged him to the bathroom, where David was slumped on the floor.

The E.M.T.s arrived then, and I was told to stand back as they loaded him on a stretcher and took him to the ambulance.  I heard the cop say, "He must have flushed it.  I don't see it anywhere."  To myself I said, "Damn right we flushed it.  We didn't want some hotshot trying to sew it back on him."

The police officer told me to get dressed, and then he took me to the hospital.  He sat with me in the waiting room until a female officer arrived, and then he left after speaking with her for a few minutes.  I figured that meant my interview was ready to begin, and it did.

Again I played the distraught wife, completely out of my head with grief and disbelief with what my husband had done to himself.  The woman comforted me, and slowly got my story, which was that I'd been asleep when I'd heard my husband scream in pain.  I ran to the bathroom, saw him surrounded by all those horrible pictures, and realized what he'd done to himself.  Then I had called the police.  I didn't know anything beyond that.

That was pretty much the end of it, at least in terms of police involvement.  The official ruling was "Self-mutilation during sexual experimentation," which was what we had hoped for.  David had to undergo some counseling sessions, but other than that, we were left alone.

I waited a couple of months before inviting Chris to our bed, and took a couple more to get him used to the idea of David being there with us, and doing his part after we had both cum.  He was shy at first about letting David lick him clean, but after a few times seemed to enjoy it.  After about four months, I made David get completely undressed, so that Chris could see what the little pervert had done to himself.  Again it took him awhile to get used to that sight, but then seemed to find it somehow arousing.

As for me, I'm enjoying Chris' much larger cock.  He's also able to last longer than David ever could, so it's a much better situation all around.  David has developed a taste for another man's semen, and has on several occasions taken my lover's cock in his mouth and sucked it until he got his reward.  All in all, the three of us are pretty happy with the way things turned out.

There is one thing, though, that may cause a change sometime in the future.

More and more, I've been finding myself standing at the paper cutter, imagining a cock laying there waiting eagerly for the blade.  The only difference is that now it's Chris' cock.