Blader - Clipping Michelle
Clipping Michelle By: Blader [STRAIGHT] [Female circumcision]
Do not cheat on husband!
I am by no means what you would call a woman-hater...quite the contrary, in fact. But I have learned quite a bit about nature and human nature, and where the two have wildly diverged from each other in our technological age. In my case, it seems Mother Nature needed to plant a few seeds in my head about how to steady the ground my wife and I were on. The warning signs started all the way back in my college days. Michelle and I met in a psychology class my sophomore year. I was doing well in the class and she was struggling, so she asked if we could study together. To my surprise, it didn't take long to figure out that studying was the furthest thing from her mind. Before we ever cracked open a book, we were going at it like rabbits - on the kitchen floor, in the shower, on her roommate's bed, anywhere. Come to think of it, that was pretty much the result of every study session and every date we ever had. I had never met a girl with such an enormous sexual appetite, but I could hardly complain. After all, most of the guys on campus would've given their left nut to find a girlfriend like her. For the rest of our college days, the two of us were inseparable. It just seemed logical that after we graduated, we would get married and live happily ever after. If I would've had even the slightest grasp on reality, I would've realized beforehand that a fairy-tale marriage just can't exist in nature. Mine would prove to be no exception.
Even though we were both dirt poor at the time, our families insisted that we sign a pre-nuptial agreement before tying the knot. Michelle and I agreed that it was merely a formality, but her parents were content (and mine relieved) that the agreement allotted the typical 50/50 split of possessions in the case of a mutual divorce. I had no idea at the time that this piece of paper (and the technicalities built in) would eventually turn out to be my trump card.
The first few years of marriage were tough, as they are with most people. Michelle had never worked a day in her life, so I had to scrape and scrounge every penny I could just to keep a roof over our heads. We argued quite a bit over money, but always seemed to kiss and make up. After all, she was too dependent on me to walk out the door...and I was too addicted to her ever-wet pussy to simply let her leave.
After putting away enough money, I began pursuing my ambition of starting my own software company. Before long, my hard work and dedication began to pay off. I often worked 16 hour days every day of the week, but the growing size of my paychecks kept Michelle from complaining about the fact that I was rarely home to spend time with her. I was, after all, doing it to help our marriage. When the dot-com companies took off in the late 1990's, my company's stock price went through the roof and I became a millionaire practically overnight. It was difficult being at the office all the time, especially since Michelle started to seem more concerned with spending my cash than spending time with me. The few times a week that I did get to see her, she seemed distant. She rambled on about her long hard day of shopping, how the maids never quite followed her instructions, how her chauffer wouldn't stop drooling over her body. When it came time for bed, and I would lean over for a mere kiss, she simply turned her back to me and turned off the light. It was demoralizing enough that my oasis of ass seemed to have completely dried up, but it was incomprehensible to me how she could feel no sense of understanding or gratitude for the sacrifices I had made. I provided her with every material possession she could possibly want, and she provided me with nothing but a cold shoulder. It was as if I had become her financial slave.
One evening I headed up to the bathroom with my Wall Street Journal and made a discovery that would change my life forever. Lying in the garbage can were three used condoms - and I knew damn well they weren't mine. I could feel the imaginary knife plunging into my back, nearly missing my heart on the way through. Her devious scheme suddenly became clear to me...it was embarrassing that I hadn't seen it sooner. Michelle had only ever had one objective in mind, and that was to fulfill her own desire for pleasure. At first she used her sexual power to lure me into her web, and I was enough of a fool to dive in head-first. Once I was able to provide her with her materialistic desires, she no longer needed me for sex - and she opted to find relief in that area with whomever else she pleased. Then I realized that the rules of our society are set up so that any man in my position would've stumbled blindly into the same trap. The law states that men and women are equal, even in cases where they clearly are not. Divorce laws are set up so that the woman often gets half of everything accumlated in a marriage, even if she paid for none of it. A host of discrimination laws make it easy for woman to cry foul in the workplace, even when her claims are completely unsubstantiated. And the most puzzling part to me was that these artificial equalities have been approved through the years by predominantly male law-making bodies. I tried to think of every mammal in the animal kingdom whose males had knowingly and completely pissed away their claim to dominance, and off the top of my head I could only think of one species - the human. There are many who would argue that my reasoning was sexist...myself included. But the more I thought about it, the unbiased truth was that the laws of nature seemed to support my claim by an overwhelming margin. To hell with the empty rationale of the rest of the silly monkeys in my species. Nature was calling to me, and it told me that it was time for me to restake my claim - and as we all know, the ways of nature are often considered heartless.
I felt as though I, like so many other men, had been handed my manhood on a plate by my wife. So it was only fitting that I do the same to her - literally. The folds of pink flesh between her legs were venomous, and I became more and more convinced that the only way to bring her back under control was to pluck off the flower as though it were a weed. It was for her own benefit, as well as for the good of our marriage. The problem was that I was hardly a surgeon, so clipping her myself didn't seem like a valid option. To compound the issue, I had never been a big fan of blood in mass quantities. I searched all over the internet for doctors who would consider doing this - no such luck. Then I found a website that inspired a solution to my problem.
The website was dedicated to male castration, but reading about one of the devices gave me an idea. I believe the device was called a Burdizzo clamp, whose form was as menacing as its function. It looked like a giant pair of pliers whose jaws were long and flat. It worked by squeezing along the base of the scrotum, crushing all of the blood vessels leading to the testicles. The testes would then slowly be absorbed back into the body or simply fall off. This wasn't quite the effect I was looking for, but a nasty clamp that could pinch off blood flow would be just the thing I needed to make Michelle's operation as clean and do-it-yourself as I wanted.
I started designing my device idea right away. It would be made of stainless steel, with two curved jaws connected on both ends by bolts (quite a bit of torque would be needed to completely crush the blood vessels). The jaws needed to be curved in such a way that they would fit snugly against her, so that the entire length of her fleshy ridge would be clamped at its very base. Luckily, I still had an old plaster cast of her cunt that I had made once while playing doctor (even fate seemed to be on my side in this endeavor). The insides of the jaws would be machined at a 30-degree angle, with the exception of a thin, flat area running along the very base of the clamp. That way, all of the tightening force would be directed to the bottom of the clamp's jaws. The flat part would totally squeeze off the blood supply, and the angles would provide a convenient surface to guide a knife. I sent the schematics to a friend of mine who could make anything and everything you could dream of with metal. I tinkered with mechanical devices quite a bit through the years, and my friend had built so many trinkets and gizmos for me that he put this one together without even asking its purpose. I played with the shiny metal device, marvelling at its horrible potential. I put my pinky finger between its jaws and tightened the bolts with my fingers, envisioning that it was Michelle's love button. I could hardly wait for her to fall out of line again so the rest of my plan could fall into place.
There was, of course, the problem of getting Michelle to consent. I knew she would never directly consent to losing the only parts of her body she ever really cared about. However, our pre-nuptial agreement provided me with just the loophole I needed. Buried deep in the verbage was a clause regarding adultery. It stated that indisputable proof of cheating would mean the marriage could immediately be annulled and the rest of the agreement was null and void. Basically, it meant that I could toss Michelle onto the street at this point without giving her one red cent. She didn't need me for sex anymore, but I was sure she couldn't survive without my money. I had her cornered - and the shiny, banana-shaped clamp seemed to smile at me as it sat patiently on my desk.
A week had passed, and I had collected all of the evidence I would need. I came home from work at lunchtime and waited in the bedroom. Like clockwork, Michelle came bouncing through the bedroom door in the arms of her chauffeur, one of the five different men I knew she was fucking. The blood drained from their faces as they saw me standing there. I fired the chauffeur on the spot, then grabbed Michelle by the hair and threw her onto the bed. Michelle panicked and began yelling, "You can't throw me around, you bastard! I'll have you arrested on seven different counts of..."
It was right about then that my temper boiled over. I had never so much as laid a finger on her before, but this time I couldn't help myself and I grabbed her by the throat. "Now you listen to me like you've never listened to anyone in your life! I just want to see you TRY explaining your way out of this...." With that, I used the remote control to turn on the TV and VCR. She sat in silent dejection watching the surveillance tapes I had made. They showed her spreading her legs and fucking the chef, then the pool cleaner, then the head groundskeeper, and so on. She fucked them all on a regular schedule, and right on the same bed that she and I had shared for years. Videotapes don't lie, and she knew she was in serious trouble - legally and otherwise.
I tossed a copy of the pre-nuptial agreement onto her chest, with the adultery clause highlighted in red. She started sobbing as she started reading it, and before she could finish I told her that I wanted her out of my house by sunset. She cried and begged and pleaded, as I had expected. There were millions of finacially independent women in the world, but Michelle was certainly not one of them. And for this, she would have to do exactly as I wished if she wanted to continue benefitting from my bank accounts. It was time for her to stumble into my sadistic web. "Michelle, I've sacrificed just about everything I held dear to me, just to provide you with everything you wanted...and this is how you repay me?! I can't trust you - fuck, I can barely look at you!"
I didn't expect her to fall to pieces like she did, but I started to feel a little bit vindicated. She literally fell to her knees and started begging, "Please, please forgive me...you're never home anymore...I just felt so lonely...I gave into my weakness...." This was turning out to be as easy as scolding a dog. "How dare you claim you were lonely! I spent hour after hour, day after day in that cold office trying to make a few extra dollars so that you could be happy. And while I sat there thinking about you, giving my heart and soul to my work for your benefit, you were home fucking the hired help...on MY bed, no less! There was a day when I would've given anything to make your life better, and now I would give anything just to get you the fuck out of my life...."
Michelle started bawling like a baby. "Oh please...I still love you...don't turn your back on me...I'll change, I promise..."
I pulled her up by her hair and growled, "The only way I could POSSIBLY think about letting your sorry ass stay under MY roof is if you can prove you are willing to sacrifice as much for me as I have for you..."
"Yes, anything...I want to change for you..."
"...Shut up and listen for once! As I was saying, there is only one sacrifice that you can make that could even come CLOSE to making up for your slutty ways, let alone try to ensure that you won't go back on your promise to change those ways." I paused for dramatic effect, half-surprised that my plan was coming together so well. "I am willing to destroy the surveillance tapes of you cheating on me if you sign this contract." The contract was intentionally as vague as possible from my end, stating only that she would have to endure whatever physical or psychological pain I saw fit within 2 weeks of signing the contract. She would have no legal recourse regarding the effects of the punishment, and in return I could not use the evidence I collected to file for an annulment of the marriage or the pre-nuptial agreement. On paper it looked rather fair, I thought. "After you have endured the punishment I have in mind, maybe then I can consider falling in love with you again. But not until then."
I could see the pain and fear in her eyes, as she had taken it for granted that I would always love her and never hurt her. She meekly posed the question, "...Well...wh...what's the punishment?"
"The contract clearly states that you won't be told the punishment until the time arrives for it to be inflicted. If you want to stay under my roof, you have to trust that my choice of punishments is sufficiently painful, yet fair, for the wrongs you have done." Reluctantly, she picked up a pen and signed. She tried to kiss me, but I blocked her with my hand. "Don't even touch me with that dirty mouth. Now undress." For the first time in a long time, she obeyed my every command. I grabbed her by the hair and led her into the bathroom. "I'm leaving you in here until 6 o'clock tonight - that's when your punishment begins. Don't drink anything, and make sure your cunt is shaved bare. Your punishment will require it." She looked down at her pussy, and then to me in fear. I slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside.
I'm sure she could hear me working as I set up all the equipment I would need to give her an appropriate and memorable circumcision. I had labored all week building the wooden framework I would use to restrain her. It fit neatly over the mattress of our bed, as I felt it was only fitting that she be given her punishment at the scene of her crimes. A small black box at the edge of the bed hid the tools I would need for the procedure: a few one-pound weights, some metal cable, three ring-tipped hemostats, an open-ended wrench, a socket wrench, my special circumcision clamp, and a small scalpel.
My watch hit 6 o'clock, and I unlocked the bathroom door. Michelle was huddled in the corner, naked, crying and shivering. My feeling at that point almost trivialized the situation, but I have to admit that I felt deja vu. It reminded me of the day I took my first cat to get neutered. The cat was nervous, as it could sense something was about to happen...it just didn't know what. There was a moment when I walked through the doors of the vet's office that I felt I was betraying my pet, my trusting little friend...knowing full well that I was solely responsible for having it de-sexed. And then I remembered how much friendlier and well-behaved that cat turned out to be after it was clipped. It proved to be for the cat's own good.
And so it would be with my cheating slut of a wife.
She looked up at me with watery eyes, whispering, "...please don't do this...." My mind was already made up. I ordered her to stand up, and she complied. I placed a blindfold over her eyes, and I could tell she was getting ready to complain. I warned her, "Not a word out of your mouth until after the punishment is over, understand?" She sighed, but didn't have any time to utter a response as I forced a ball gag into her mouth. I actually would've liked it better had she not been gagged, as I wanted to hear her scream. But I felt it was a responsible measure of precaution - the gag would ensure that she wouldn't accidentally bite off her tongue in a moment of agony.
I led Michelle to the bed, then told her to lie back. She did so reluctantly, as she could feel she was laying on a framework of wood and steel instead of a mattress of cotton and silk. As she held her arms out to the side, I proceeded to strap them down tight. I could tell she was getting very nervous at this point, as her breathing became faster and a few beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. I tightened two leather straps around her waist, and then attempted to pull her legs apart. Her head shook back and forth as she attempted to scream through the gag, holding her legs together with all her might. Annoyed, I swatted her tits with a leather strap to gently remind her that she had a contractual obligation to fulfill. With that, she pulled her knees up and willingly spread her legs. I cooly went about the business of securing her tightly to the stirrups. I then realized that she probably wanted to keep her legs closed as much out of embarassment as fear - she was already dripping wet.
I wanted to test the restraints, so I used the leather strap to swat her a few times right on her cunt. Michelle yelped in pain, but (with the exception of her her head) she was completely immobile. The sound of leather smacking her wet crotch was quite soothing, so I swatted her a few more times. Now that she was worked up into a frenzy, it was time to break the news to her.
I massaged her clit with my fingers and got close enough to her ear to whisper, "Now, my dear, do you want to know what your sacrifice will be?" I could see her swallow hard, and I ripped off the blindfold with my free hand. I stared coldly into her eyes and uttered the words she feared most, "I'm touching it right now...." She drew a deep breath and her eyes were wide in fear and disbelief. I moved back between her legs and opened the black box full of tools, making sure to show her each of the shiny metal instruments as I placed them on the bed. Her head bounced frantically off of the mattress, and she was screaming like a banshee through her gag. In her conscious mind, she knew she didn't want to lose such a precious piece of flesh...but I could tell her subconscious mind had other ideas. Her body betrayed her true feelings - her cunt was practically gushing, and her clit stood out like a brave soldier awaiting execution. I wondered if she had wished all along that this would be her fate...pushing me farther and farther away to see if I had the balls to give her such a cruel but justifiable punishment...wanting me to prove to her that I was in charge of the marriage. If this was her thinking, I wasn't about to disappoint her. First, I took one of the ring-tipped hemostats and opened its jaws around her rock-hard clit. It was so erect that I barely had to peel back its hood to get a good grip on it. I squeezed the hemostat to lock it in place, and the reaction of Michelle's body was more than I could've hoped for. In an instant, her toes curled, her leg muscles contracted, her back arched, and she let out a haunting wail underneath her gag. I imagine it was the same type of wail that a wolf would let out as it felt a trap snap shut on its leg...amplified about 50 times, then muffled under a ball gag.
I then locked a hemostat onto each of the quivering inner lips, which brought more complaints from Michelle. I took out three lengths of steel cable, attaching one end to each of the hemostats, and a 1-pound weight to the other end. Jutting out from the wooden framework of her circumstraint was an attachment on which 3 pulley wheels were mounted. I placed each of the cables in their appropriate wheel; the force of gravity on one end of the cables caused Michelle's clit and pussy lips to pull outward from her body. I plucked the steel cables like guitar strings, and the vibrations would've caused Michelle to go into spasms, were she not immobilized. I wanted to make sure my circumcision clamp would grip as much of her flesh as possible when it was applied, so I hung a few more weights onto each of the cables. Her lips were pulled taut, and her clit distented to the point that it looked like a worm. I had already concluded that these folds of skin and nerve tended to poison a woman's thoughts and motives; but the more I looked at it, the more I realized that it also detracted from the beauty of a woman's pussy. I would be relieved to see it gone. I unscrewed the bolt from the top end of the circumcision clamp, and slid the device into place around Michelle's outstretched womanhood. I replaced the top bolt, then pressed down on the device. Michelle howled as the pressure created some extra tension on her clit and labia, but I was elated to see how perfectly the clamp fit. When I designed the device, I assumed it would be able to grip only enough of the clit for me to remove the glans; but whether it was fate or just dumb luck, Michelle's button cooperated enough so that the clamp would be able to bite into it nearly down to its root.
As I kept pressing with my left hand, I used my fingers to start tightening the bolts. By the time the clamp was tight enough to stay on by itself, Michelle was grunting and squealing like a stuck pig. It was time to bring out the heavy artillery. I placed the open-ended wrench on one side of the bolt that was closest to her ass. Then I put the socket wrench on the opposite side of the bolt and started to push upward on its handle. The jaws of the device slowly tightened together harder and harder. Michelle's pussy folds may have been powerful enough to control my life for a few years, but they were certainly no match for steel and muscle.
I repeated the process on the bolt nearest her belly. Her body was drenched in sweat, and I could tell by her dog-whistle screams that tightening this side of the clamp was quite excruciating. I could see the color fading in her clit as I tightened the device, a sign that the circulation was being cut off. I felt a brief moment of mercy, as the river of tears flowing down her faced proved that my invention was far from a picnic for the woman it was being used on. But then again, it wasn't supposed to be...she had misused her sexuality and needed a punishment she would remember. Besides, taking the clamp off was not an option, as it was not only dangerous but would be 10 times as painful. The most merciful thing I could do for her was to be even more cruel, to tighten the device down on her with all my might so that the nerves and blood vessels between her body and her agonized girl flower would be piched off for good.
My body shook almost as much as Michelle's as I put the last ounces of torque on the wrenches. Her wild screaming quickly dissipated to prolonged moans. I knew my circumcision clamp had done its job. I unlocked the weighted clamps from her clit and labia, and the flesh retracted as much as it could. It was quite a sight - the decorative folds of her once-proud pussy were now a pale white rose, strangled by two hungry strips of shiny steel and a couple of bolts that had been sitting around my garage for years. I playfully flicked at the ghostly clit, with no response from Michelle - just as it should be. Knowing how easy this turned out to be, I wondered why I hadn't thought to do it sooner. I wondered how much better off Michelle would've been if someone had this done to her when she was in her teens. I wondered how much better my marriage would be after her circumcision was complete. I wondered if it would be natural for all marriages to benefit from such circumcisions. Michelle lay there in her circumstraint, dazed and sweating. I decided it was safe to remove her gag at this point. She kept mumbling over and over, "...oh I love you...I love you so much...." Those certainly weren't the words I was expecting out of her mouth, but I was relieved that she seemed to understand why it was all necessary. The ordeal drained her quite a bit, and she fell asleep right there in her restraints.
I thought it would be best to leave the clamp on for at least 8 hours to make sure the broken blood vessels had a chance to clot and heal a little. After four hours, I decided it was safe to finish her circumcision. I pushed the clit and labia off to one side, and positioned the scalpel so that it would ride along the inside of the clamp's angled jaws. The blade easily made a clean cut along one side, then the other. By far, the worst part of the ordeal for Michelle was appying the clamp; after that, it took only a few mere seconds to separate her from her womanhood. It was almost a completely bloodless procedure, and she never so much as flinched in her sleep as I performed the actual circumcision.
The next morning, I was right beside her when she woke up. She moaned a little as she (understandably) felt quite sore between her legs, but after a short while we were laughing and joking like kids. I unbolted the clamp, and I must admit the results weren't exactly beautiful at first. She was quite swollen, and the areas of skin where the clamp had squeezed left thin, black scabs. Michelle cried a lot those first few days - partly from pain, partly from the feeling of loss, partly from the feeling of relief. After a few weeks, the healing was almost complete - the scabs had disappeared, and all that was left was a smooth, clean slit. It was almost like nature intended for her pussy to look that way, but waited for me to stake my claim...to earn the right to prune back her flower. To this day, the mere sight of her cleanly-clipped cunt is enough to drive me wild.
Sex with Michelle is 10 times more intense than before, as she takes time to concentrate on my pleasure instead of trying to race to an orgasm for herself. We haven't had a single argument since I circumcised her - hell, now she even helps take care of the house while I'm at work. She's a changed woman, one that learned how to be a good wife and lover out of the ashes of her lust. She thanks me every day for caring enough about her to do what I did. And even though she would've rather done it without all the pain, she'll freely admit that it was a lesson she needed to learn for her own good - and would endure again to feel the sense of relief and humility and unselfishness and femininity it taught her.
After all, it's a fact that nature's most valuable lessons are hard-learned.