darkboy - The Event
The Event
By: darkboy
[penectomy] [clitoridectomy]
A lucky couple who share the same fantasies find each other - and then find more than they bargained for...
It was two months into our relationship when we discovered we shared the same fantasies. I came home one night to find her on the computer, masturbating quietly while looking at one of my favorite penectomy fantasy sites! She was the sort of quiet, unnassuming girl no one would ever think twice about. When we started dating, I had quickly learned there was much, much more to her than meets the eye, but I didn't realize how far it went until now.
Within a few moments, I was hugely erect. I walked up behind her, watching over her shoulder. I think she knew I was there, but she didn't turn around. For a long time, we masturbated together. As she was getting close to cumming, I touched my penis to her bare back, feeling her hair brush over it. She turned around and looked into my eyes. In that moment, something powerful passed between us. Her face never looked so beautiful.
She wordlessly picked something up from the computer desk. It was a rubber band. She slipped it over my erection, sliding it all the way to the base, then twisted it over a second time, and a third. It bit tightly into the base of my penis. My eyes flicked up to the picture she had left up on the screen: a cockless man, his preserved erection leaning against his thigh. She took my penis in her mouth. Within moments, I was cumming.
"I want to show you something else." she said, after I was done. Neither of us asked any questions. Even though we had never talked about it before, there was no shock. As she turned back to the computer, and I knelt down next to her to watch, I realized how lucky a man I was. She didn't take the rubber band off me, and neither did I, but I guess it wasn't tight enough because my penis slowly sank to flaccid. I could feel the cold air on it where her mouth and my cum had made it wet.
I realized I was even luckier than I had yet imagined when she brought up a story. It was one of my favorites, about a group of women who gathered together to cut each others' clits. As we read together, I could feel both of us getting horny again. Finally she turned to me and, almost shyly, opened her legs, sliding her hips forward slightly in an invitation to my mouth. Her small, white clit nudged out of the folds of her labia eagerly.
I kissed my way up her thigh, kissed her pussy, kissed her vagina. I licked up her slit slowly, softly. She gasped each time my tongue brushed over her clit. Finally I focused there, teasing and satisfying. She was close, but I teased until she was closer. Finally I wrapped her erect clit in my lips, bit down slightly, and flicked my tongue over the flesh held between my teeth. She wrapped her hands in my hair and came. I could hear her moans through her thighs, which were pressed against my ears.
Fantasy play along these lines became a staple of our sex lives. We talked about it, and for both of us it was a fantasy, and nothing more. At least, we thought that was the case until we heard of an extreme show going on in San Francisco. One man was going to lose his cock, and one woman was going to lose her clit. There would be dancing, and probably orgies, leading up to the culminating event of the weekend. Admission was $180, and only couples were allowed.
The thing which made it truly exciting: the man and woman to lose their pleasure organs would not be paid performers (though that would have been hot too.) They would be chosen from among the participating guests. Admission would be free if you volunteered have your name entered into a drawing, from which the lucky (or unlucky) pair would be drawn.
First we talked about going, but decided we couldn't afford it. But neither of us could get it out of our head. She was the one who suggested we could put our names in the raffle. I couldn't make up my mind. It was three days later when she came to me saying she had closed out a CD she had with the bank early, and she could bankroll us going. I put in what I could afford, which was about $100, and she paid the rest.
As the weekend approached, we found ourselves tense with anticipation. I could hardly concentrate at work. I kept finding myself eyeing the asses and breasts of some of the good-looking girls in my office, or women on the street. It wasn't like me.
Finally, the day came. We had talked for weeks about how we would get all dressed up to go, but when the time came, she didn't want to wear anything but a sweater and jeans. Shy, I guess.
It was in a private home, but the lower level of the home was a dungeon. It was a vast, warm place, with probably 40 human bodies filling it to crowded, without being stifling. The tension rode high on the air. The big question everybody was asking was, who had paid, and whose name was on the list? Of the 40 of us, two would come away from the weekend with slightly less than we came with.
We met four couples in rapid succession. Only one of them had volunteered. He was a tattooed, shaven kid and she was a starkly beautiful woman with long, raven black hair and a powerful lust. They were both heavily into body mods. She had a huge tattoo down her back and nipple piercings. He had a huge piercing through his cock.
The tension in the air was overwhelming. Curiously, the women got naked first. The raven-haired woman drew a cluster of admirers, all women, and the five of them fell in a heaping mass of female flesh. Whenever one of the men drew close, the raven-haired woman pushed them away without hesitation. We watched. Finally, my girl drew herself away from the pile, sweaty and naked. She came to me, and then pulled another man to us. The other men, partners of the lesbian lust-fest on the ground joined in too, and the five of us shared her. She had one in each hole, and one in each hand. She had nine orgasms that night. I never imagined she would be so happy like that.
If Friday night was intense, Saturday was even more so. I hardly remember the daytime at all, there was no sex during the day, it was simply getting to know each other. The tools used to cut the two lucky victims were presented, and everyone got to come up and get a close look.
As the hour approached, a buzz grew in the air. We were mostly too sated to have another orgy, but there were couples or trios here and there. Finally, the hour of the show came. A half dozen women came up on the stage in various states of undress and began to dance, long, lean torsos undulating under the low, heavy lights. Every man in the room grew an erection.
Then the hostess, a small, curvy woman with no hair whatsoever made her appearance. She was nude. In one hand, she held a box, and in the other she rolled the penectomy guillotine onto the stage. Raucous cheers erupted from all sides. She waited until the cheering died down, then shook the box, and drew out a name.
The man I had met earlier stood up with a triumphant grin on his face. He walked toward the stage, nude, his pierced cock half erect and bouncing. His raven-haired partner watched him with a fierce smile. The hostess offered him the opportunity to say a few words. He told us about his cock and about his lifelong fantasy of destroying it. He told us of his favorite time having sex, of his numerous accomplishments with women (which would now be ended) and of his fascination with body modification once he discovered it. Since then, it had only been a matter of time.
I put my arm around my girl while he was talking, and slowly felt her breast through her sweater. She looked over at me with a naughty twinkle in her eye and unzipped my pants. I looked around hastily to make sure no one was watching. No one was, incidentally, but obviously nudity was not a concern in this room. Several women had their partners cocks out and were stroking them. Some of the other women and men were masturbating slowly.
Finally the hostess asked the man if he had any final requests for his penis. He grinned, and said he wanted every woman in this room to come and suck on it first, starting with her. A cheer went up from the women, and the hostess, her bald head only drawing attention to her beautiful eyes, knelt in front of him. Her big breasts swayed as she took his swollen cock in her mouth. She arched her ass so everyone in the audience could see her pussy, giving it a few good strokes with her obviously talented lips. Then she stood up and called, "next!"
The women in the room all looked around at each other and shrugged. About half of them got up right away to make their way to the stage, and one by one they took turns sucking on his doomed cock, giving it its final goodbye. About halfway through, my girl got up and took her turn. She came back to me with a curved smile on her lips, then took my cock in her mouth. What would I ask, if it had been me up there, I wondered.
His raven-haired partner was last, and went at him enthusiastically. His pierced cock was fully erect and rigid, nearly quivering with excitement by the time she let him out of her mouth with a wet pop. She guided his penis to the guillotine with a smile while he groaned expectantly, trying to hold back from cumming. Once it was secured, the host offered the raven-haired woman the cord. She took it, considered it for a long moment, then handed it to the man himself. They gazed deeply into each others eyes for a long moment, then he whispered something. She nodded, and knelt down, taking his penis into her mouth through the guillotine hole.
I heard a whisper in my ear, "you wish it was you up there, don't you?" and I felt small fingers grasping my thickly erect cock. My penis, already erect, responded eagerly. She stroked first slowly, then quickly, wrapping her fingers around to stimulate the sensitive underside. I couldn't help but wonder if she was right.
The man on stage gasped and groaned, trying to hold on for as long as he could, but the raven-haired vixen only grew more enthusiastic, pumping her head up and down while holding his cock with both hands. He gazed at her ass, thrusting in the air, and we could see her breasts swaying back and forth. Finally he let out a great cry, thrust into the guillotine/her mouth, and jerked sharply downward on the cord. The blade fell with a silver flash and a satisfying chinking sound, and it was done.
I didn't see quite what happened next, because I was fiercely kissing my partner and lost in her fingers on my manhood. I must have come, because suddenly semen was all over both of us, and my cock was growing flaccid. She giggled, trying to wipe some of the semen off the sweater over her breasts.
The man was being guided off stage, wincing but smiling tiredly, bandages tightly hugging his groin. My eyes followed that spot. There was no room for a penis under those bandages. The stage was cleared off, the raven-haired girl clutching her trophy proudly, and soon the hostess returned to the stage with another box, this time wheeling a small tray with her.
I glanced over to the raven-haired girl. She was kissing the tip of the severed penis, but when the hostess began to shake the box, she unconsciously leaned forward, and one hand slipped between her legs where she started to rub her clit softly. I wondered if she was even conscious she was doing it.
My girlfriend slipped her hand into mine, her small fingers squeezing briefly. The hostess pulled out a name and called it. I looked around for a moment, watching for the woman who stood, before I realized that I knew that name! Stunned, I turned to look at my girlfriend, who was staring back at me with morbid eyes.
"You...?" I whispered. She nodded sadly, and whispered back, "It was the only way I could afford it. I'm sorry."
She stood slowly, pulling her hand from mine, and walked toward the stage. The host greeted her with a smile which, surprisingly, she returned. When asked if she wanted to say anything, she shook her head, then took the microphone.
She looked at me and said, "I want to thank my boyfriend, who brought me here today. I want you to know..." she flushed, embarrassed. She never was any good with public speaking. Then she continued, "...my vagina will always be yours. I just hope you don't miss my orgasms. I'll have to make you come for both of us." She shrugged a little apologetically, then gave me a tentative smile. She mouthed the words, just for me to see, "I'm happy."
The she unbuttoned and slipped off her jeans, then slipped off her panties. She did not remove the sweater. She walked bare legged to the chair which had been provided and settled into it, spreading her legs wide enough to fit. It exposed her pussy completely. I could see the wet gleam of arousal on her, the fold of her clit glistening. Despite myself, I felt myself growing hard again.
The hostess asked, "Do you have any last requests for your clit?" My girlfriend simply shook her head.
The hostess pulled off the covering from the tray and said, "We have a variety of methods you can choose from. There is the straight razor, the scalpel, burning, even acid." She held up a small clear container, then continued, "We can rip it out with pliers or I could bite it off for you. I won't go easy on you though." She winked, and said, "Finally, there is the spring activated clamp. We simply set it up; when you're ready, push a button and whoosh, it's gone."
She looked at the assortment of tools for a long moment, then picked the straight razor.
"Make it quick, if you can," she said imploringly. The hostess nodded a little sadly. The hostess picked out two long razors, their edges sharpened specially for this. She knelt down, turning the chair so that the audience could watch, and placed one razor flush against the side of my girlfriend's clit to use as a guide. While doing so, she grabbed the clit between two fingers to position it and my girlfriend said, "Wait! Do that... for just a moment. It feels good."
The hostess gently slid her two fingerpads up and down, masturbating her clit like a small penis, giving it its last pleasure. She released a long, shuddering sigh, then said, "Okay, go ahead."
The hostess leaned in close, her breasts swaying and her naked ass lifting slightly. She folded the clitoris over the first razor slightly, to hold it in place, then placed the second razor along side it. My girlfriend watched avidly, her breasts heaving with quick breaths under her sweater. Her hair fell down her chest and shoulders, and her hands gripped her naked knees tightly, holding them apart. I could see new droplets of arousal leaking slowly from her vagina, and her clitoris became hard to hold folded over as it grew very erect.
The hostess bit the two blades into the base of the clitoris, not breaking the skin yet, then readjusted to get more of the shaft of the clit between the blades. She edged some of the labia flesh out of the way with her thumb. When she was satisfied, my girlfriend's clit stood pinched sharply between the blades, its entire external substance caught there, and nothing else. The hostess' big brown eyes flashed up toward my girlfriend, who met them briefly, then looked down. The hostess looked back at her work, and moved the blade in one hand closer to the other, pinching tighter and tighter. My girlfriend's clit bulged as it was cut off from the flesh at its base. Then, with a single swift, sure motion, the hostess brought the blade in her right hand down across the blade in her left, slicing off my girlfriend's clitoris.
She cried out in pain briefly, then bit off the sound with a controlled whimper. The hostess quickly pressed a bandage to the open wound to stem the bleeding. She reached down and picked up the clit I treasured so much from the floor where it had fallen, and handed it to my girlfriend.
I was still in shock when we went home the next day, but she seemed nearly giddy. She did have trouble walking, but she couldn't stop looking at me, and touching me, and rubbing me through my pants. Her good mood rubbed off on me, and by evening Sunday we were in bed like new lovers. I had to avoid touching her pussy, but we had a good time anyway. It was two weeks before we had sex again. She cried a little, I couldn't tell if it was from the pain or from the loss of pleasure, but she looked up at me, smiling through her tears, and kept thrusting. She watched me with loving, observant eyes as I came in her, lost in the throes of orgasm. When I recovered she was still watching me. It was obvious there was not even a hint of the throes of pleasure for her, but she was looking at me with observant love and even wonder. She threw her arms around my neck and said, "I love you, I love watching you cum in me."
I do miss getting to watch her orgasm sometimes, but she seems to like the new impartiality she has during sex. She only misses it sometimes. In all other ways, our sex life is better than it ever has been. She's always semi-horny, never more nor less, and becomes wet for me simply at my touch, even though she can't go anywhere with it. I can have her any time I want, as many times as I want, and can take as long as I want too. Sometimes, when I feel like just thrusting a few times and then cumming, I can and she doesn't mind. Other times, if I feel like long, passionate lovemaking, she can come to a sort of emotional orgasm, but it's not the same thing. That's nice too.
I had hoped to keep her clit, but she gave it to the bald hostess after the event, saying she didn't have any use for it anymore. From the look on the hostess' face, it was a good move. Last I heard she had preserved it to use as a piece of jewelry and was trying to decide whether to mount it as a ring or hang it as a necklace.