https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Big_Billie/CircErotic%20Files/CircErotic_Story_01.txt
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Big_Billie/CircErotic%20Files/Circ_Erotic_Story_01_part_ii.txt

by Big Billie

### PART 1 ###

   My name is Maggie Phillips, and despite everything I am still married to
my husband, Jim.  Eighteen months after our wedding, however, Jim, who was
25 at the time, got involved with a sixteen year old girl at his office. 
For all her tender years, she was a brazen hussy and she wanted my husband
for herself.  To be fair to poor old Jim, what man can resist a beautiful,
scheming vixen when she throws herself at him, especially if she is nine
years his junior?  Jim did not know what had hit him and the bimbo in
question, who was called Jane, soon had him locked into an adulterous
relationship.

   For about six months I knew nothing about all this, but then I went out
on a hen night with a group of ladies from Jim's office (I used to work
there myself once).  My God, women can be real bitches!  During that night
on the town, when the booze began to flow, a gang of my old "friends" made
it perfectly plain to me, by their sexy innuendoes and suggestive remarks,
exactly what my husband was up to with Jane.  They seemed to delight in
stirring up trouble and, wow, did they rub my nose in it and make me feel a
fool!  They were all most amused at my discomfiture, and seemed to think
that the whole thing was one big laugh.  They did not tell me exactly what
was going on, but for most of the night they kept making nudge, nudge,
wink, wink type in-jokes to each other designed to tease and torment me.  I
was furious, and determined to have it out with my disloyal spouse as soon
as I got home.

   When confronted Jim made a clean breast of things and told me the whole
story.  He said he was sorry, swore that I was the only one that really
mattered to him, promised not to screw the bimbo again (a likely story, I
thought), and pleaded with me to forgive him.  But I was not taken in, and
told him in no uncertain terms that there was no question of forgiveness.
Then I balled him out, insisted that I wanted a divorce, and let him stew
in his own juice for a few days by banishing him to another bedroom and
refusing to speak to him.

   Meanwhile a plan was forming in my mind.  I was deeply hurt at what Jim
had done, and I concluded that there could be no excuse for his conduct.  I
agonised over just how sharply he must have enjoyed the intimacies of Jane
the bimbo's exquisite and sexy body for the last half year.  I bet he had
had an enormous amount of pleasure at my expense, and I was determined, if
I could, to get my revenge and to make him pay for it with interest.  And
yet I was torn.  The reason that I was so unhappy was because I loved my
husband, and I did not want our marriage to break up.

   So I decided to offer Jim a choice.  The first option, I told him, would
be much the easier for him.  He could have a divorce, and that would be the
end of the matter.  This, I added, was what I would do if I were him.  The
effect of this suggestion on my husband was dramatic.  He fell to his
knees, clasped my hands in his, and begged me not to throw him out.  He
would do anything, he said, anything, if I would only take him back.  I
pretended to be unimpressed.  "You have made your solemn vows and promises
to me before," I told him, "only to break them at the wiggle of a bimbo's
bottom.  How can I ever trust you again?"

   Then Jim asked me what the other option was.  This, I told him, was to
agree to be punished for what he had done.  Only if he promised that, for
the rest of his life, he would allow me to discipline him whenever, and in
whatever way, I saw fit would he stand any chance at all of getting me into
bed with him again.  At this, Jim grabbed a Bible from the nearby bookcase,
and swore on it solemnly that he would take whatever chastisement I had in
store for him, until the day of his death if that was what I wanted.  I
looked him square in the eyes.  But hang on, I replied, he had no idea as
yet of what I was going to do to him.  Whatever it was, he cried, it would
be better than having to live without me.  He could not bear that.  He had
chosen his option, he concluded, and it was now up to me to say what I had
decided for him.

   "I will tell you that tomorrow night," I said.  "Be in your office alone
at 6 p.m."

   Jim used to stay at work after hours quite often, even before he started
putting in overtime with the bimbo.  A big advantage, from my point of
view, of a meeting at 6 o'clock was that by that hour my sniggering
"friends," and the voluptuous Jane, would have gone home.

   At our meeting the first thing I explained was that there would be no
more nooky until I was satisfied that Jim had expiated his sins.  Unless or
until I instructed him otherwise, he would be sleeping in one of the spare
bedrooms, and would only enter our usual bedroom when I was there, and with
my permission.  Jim took this in silence.

   "Now," I said, "You will not like the fate I have in store for you, so I
am offering you your last chance for a divorce.  You have had an
opportunity to ponder things overnight, and now I want your final answer. I
am prepared, if you say so now, to release you from your solemn promise of
yesterday.  If you decide to go on, however, I swear that I will never let
you wriggle out of it, and that I will never divorce you unless forced by
law."

   Jim was clearly having slight doubts.

   "I think I should know what I am letting myself in for," he replied.

   "Request denied," I answered brusquely.  "I think a divorce is the best
solution in any case."

   I turned to go, as if the matter was settled.  But Jim yelled out at me
to stay.  What the hell, whatever I had in store for him, he would rather
take it than live without me.  I was touched, but still as determined as
ever to sweat him and to make him sorry for what he had done.

   "OK, then," I concluded.  "That's settled.  I will see you here again at
six o'clock tomorrow evening."

   At our second meeting at Jim's office the next day, I laid out the first
part of my programme of discipline.  His, I said, had been a physical
transgression, and he must pay for it physically.  The Bible told us that
if our hand offended, we should cut it off.  In his case it was his cock
that had sinned, and it was his cock that must be punished.  Except that I
was treating him leniently.  I did not want it cut off.  I just wanted it
circumcised.  I was therefore going to arrange a little operation for him.

   "Oh, yes, my boy," I added, "I am going to punish you at the point of
pleasure.  No more will your sensitive and lascivious foreskin be sliding
deliciously up and down young ladies' pussies.  It will be pressed between
two pieces of glass in a jar of formaldehyde on the dresser at my side of
the bed."

   Jim was stunned by this revelation, so I told him that I would be back
at 6 o'clock tomorrow with more, turned on my heels, and abruptly left.

   Jim did not come home that night, but I did not really care.  I was in a
vindictive and dangerous mood, and it did not concern me much what he did.
I did not think that he would be prepared to go through with my proposal,
and therefore, as far as I was concerned, our marriage was over.

   I went along to Jim's office at six o'clock the next evening, expecting
to find it deserted and closed.  When I arrived, however, my husband was
sitting there behind his desk.

   "I thought you would be gone by now," I said.

   "I gave you my word, didn't I?" he replied.  "You can do to me whatever
you want." "Well," I said, "if I do, my boy, I must warn you that it will
be a lot more than just a circumcision that you will be getting."

   "So be it," answered my spouse.  "You're the boss."

   When I heard this profession of submission I smiled archly.

   "Okay." I said, "Sign this."

   I then handed Jim a print-off of a document I had downloaded and adapted
from a pro-circumcision site on the Internet.  It read as follows:

   *************************

   SENTENCE OF DEATH BY EXECUTION ON A FORESKIN

   To all whom it may concern, Greetings!  Be it known that the cock of Jim
B...  Has been tried, found guilty and convicted Of the felonious crime of
Adultery in the First Degree.

   In punishment whereof The FORESKIN of the said cock Has been sentenced
to DEATH BY EXECUTION.  It is further ordained that the Mode of execution
shall be by TIGHT CIRCUMCISION of the Flesh of the Foreskin Of the said
cock And that the entire FRENULUM of the said cock Shall also be CUT OFF.

   The sentence of death by tight circumcision Of the flesh of the foreskin
of the said cock And the cutting off of the entire frenulum Of the said
cock Shall be executed Before the culprit's wife At a time and a place
decided by the said wife.

   The nature of the tight circumcision Of the flesh of the foreskin Of the
said cock And of the cutting off of the entire frenulum Of the said cock
Shall be determined by the circumcising surgeon.

   This sentence of death by execution of the foreskin Of the said cock,
The tight circumcision of the flesh of the foreskin Of the said cock, And
the cutting off of the entire frenulum Of the said cock Are accepted by the
owner Of the said cock, foreskin and frenulum As a fit, meet, proper and
appropriate punishment For the felonious crime of which the said cock has
been Convicted, namely Adultery in the First Degree.

   Accordingly the owner Of the said cock, foreskin and frenulum Agrees to
present the said cock, foreskin and frenulum At a time and a place decided
by the said wife In order that the punishment To which the said cock,
foreskin and frenulum Have been sentenced May be inflicted.

   In acknowledgement and acceptance whereof The bearer of the said cock,
foreskin and frenulum Has hereunto affixed his signature.

   In witness whereof the culprit's wife Has set her hand On the date
indicated below.

   *************************

   "Here," I said, "Sign this."

   Soon the arrangements were made for the first part of my revenge.  My
best friend is called Jillian Hayes.  I have known her since we were at
primary school.  She also went to the same girls' grammar school that I
did, and, being very bright, continued on to do medicine at university. 
She was now training to be a surgeon.

   Well, I told my whole story to Jill, and then asked her for a favour.  I
was half expecting her to reject my plea as kinky.  But no, she came up
trumps.  We have always been very loyal to each other, and Jill was
appalled and outraged at how Jim had treated me.  Nothing would give her
greater pleasure, she assured me, than to see him taught a sharp,
embarrassing and painful lesson.  She would gladly circumcise him for me,
and as soon as I liked.  We arranged it for 8 a.m., at our house, on the
next Saturday morning.

   On the Friday night I decided to have a little fun with Jim.  I told him
in advance that he could sleep with me if he liked.  I wanted him, I said,
to have one last evening of passion with his foreskin on.  And who was to
know, I suggested.  If he was very nice to me, gave me a good time, and
pleaded with me very long and very eloquently, it was just possible that I
might relent, and that he might get a reprieve.  I would give him my final
decision, I said, on the first stroke of midnight.

   That night Jim came home to a beautiful and romantic candlelit supper
that I had prepared for him.  He found me dressed in a stunning, low cut
evening gown and wearing a beautiful necklace and other adornments.  I had
been to the hairdresser for a sexy, short cut style that showed off my bare
neck to full effect.  My armpits were new shaven, and I was wearing
lashings of my most expensive perfume.  My gown was the length of a very
short mini-skirt, and it showed off my bare legs and thighs (which were
also newly shaved) to full effect.  I was not wearing knickers, and when I
bent over or sat down my naked quim was on display.  I had shaved my pussy
meat completely bare and then rubbed it generously with perfumed oil.

   Jim was stunned.  After being banished from my bedroom for the best part
of a week he was very frustrated, and I think that he was finding me
distinctly over-stimulating.

   "I've only cut the hairs off my pudenda," I teased, as I caressed him
coquettishly.  "Soon I'll have the skin off yours."

   After our meal I took Jim to the bedroom.

   "Well, go on, then" I urged as I lay invitingly on the bed, pulled my
skirt up over my waist and pushed my moist, oiled quim towards him.  "Get
on with it, and it had better be good."

   In fact, it was good, very good.  Jim took me three times before
midnight, and I could tell that he was really trying to please me.  By
midnight I was a very well fucked woman.  Also egged on by me Jim gave me a
lot of bleat about how sorry he was, how he would never wrong me again, how
he was throwing himself on my mercy, how he did not want to have his
foreskin chopped off, etc., etc.  I pretended to listen carefully, even
sympathetically, to everything he said.  Wow, was I setting him up!

   At twelve o'clock I gave Jim my final decision.  I cuddled in closely to
him as we lay naked in bed and giggled as I affectionately tweaked his
foreskin.  Then I moved my lips up to his ear, and gently nibbled the lobe
while blowing down the hole.  Then, after keeping him guessing until the
last moment, I let him have the punch line.  It was whispered in such a
gentle and seductive way that it took a few moments for it to sink in.

   "The verdict," I murmured, "Is that this cock is guilty as charged.  It
is sentenced to circumcision at 8 a.m.  Right of appeal is denied."

   After I had finished saying these words, I felt the cock in question
going rock hard in my hands.  This was the first indication that I had ever
had that Jim was a masochist, and that he was being turned on by what I
going to do to him.

   "Ooooh!" he breathed in ecstasy.  "You bitch!  You absolute bitch!"

   My riposte was to yank his foreskin tight back down his shaft, as firmly
and as roughly as I could, and to flick his naked, engorged, sensitive
purple prick tip, hard, with the nail of my forefinger.  I did this several
times, with a pause between each flick to give the recipient plenty of time
to feel it.

   "Bitch, bitch, bitch" repeated Jim in a low voice.  "My God, that
hurts!"

   "I bet it does," I giggled saucily as I gave him another hard flick,
"but not as much as it's about to."

   Then my tone changed to that of stern dominatrix.

   "Tomorrow, young man, you will be severely punished for those words. 
Bitch, indeed!  I'll make you so sorry for yourself that you will never,
ever, dare to address me in such terms again."

   Then I told Jim to get out.  He was banished again from my bedroom.  By
7 a.m.  the next morning he must be in the shower, and by 7.45 I expected
him to report to my bedroom for the chop.  If he were as much as a second
late he would suffer additional punishment.

   Jill arrived at 8 a.m.  sharp the next morning to find Jim in bed with
his pyjamas on.  Her manner was brusque and official.  She inspected the
consent form that Jim had already signed.

   "Hmmm!" she said.  "'The nature of the tight circumcision of the flesh
of the foreskin of the cock, and of the cutting off of the frenulum of the
cock, shall be determined by the circumcising surgeon,' eh!"

   She chucked Jim under the chin with her forefinger and, using upward
pressure from her finger, lifted his head upwards.  Then she turned his
face towards hers and gazed steadily into his eyes.

   "Well, young man.  I tell you this.  To Maggie I am an Avenging Angel,
but to you I am the Devil Incarnate.  I will chastise you with the utmost
severity for what you have done.  Maggie has granted me the power to punish
your cock and I will punish it well.  I am going to circumcise the flesh of
your foreskin in a manner that is very tight and very drastic.  I will make
you gasp.  I will make you wince.  And I will make you grunt.  Oh yes!  I
will make you very, very sorry for cheating on my best friend; and be very,
very determined, and very, very afraid, never, ever, to cheat on my best
friend again or I will take my knife and give you another chopping on top
of this one."

   Jill then made Jim sign another consent form for her records.  As had
been previously arranged, Jim was then required to hand over to Jill an
enormous fee of £1,000 for the operation, in cash.

   When we had arranged this, Jill had assured me that she was doing this
for pleasure, not for profit, and that I would not be out of pocket.  Now I
found out exactly what she meant by this.A She put the cash safe in her
handbag and at the same time drew out a £1,000 cheque, payable to me and
only to me.  She told me to put this in my own personal account, where Jim
could not touch it, and to be sure that he never saw a penny of it.

   "Treat yourself to a few little luxuries with it," she said gaily. 
"Some Chanel No.  5, perhaps, and an expensive hairdo.  And how about a
designer bikini to overexcite your admirers on the beach?  You could even
take yourself off alone on a package cheapy to show it off.  I want you to
spend this money luxuriously and extravagantly upon yourself alone.  And I
want you to swear that you will do this, and the adulterer to swear that he
will let you."

   Impromptu vows were then taken, more enthusiastically by me than by Jim,
and Jill proceeded with her work.

   Jill explained that circumcising a fully-grown man was a much bigger job
than circumcising a baby.  Often a general anaesthetic was used, but she
was going to use a local one.  Oh, she added, and she thought Jim might
like to know that she had never performed a circumcision before.  She badly
needed the practice, but she was quite likely to botch it up.

   Without further ado, Jill then pulled from her medical bag a large
disposable syringe and injected Jim's prick with about 5 or 6 jabs all
around its base and its circumference.  Meanwhile the victim was taken
aback by the speedy development of this surgical initiative.  He looked
shocked, and winced visibly in pain.

   Soon, Jill had opened her surgical textbook to the appropriate page. 
Then she marked Jim's cock for the surgery.

   "I'm taking off much more than is recommended in the medical textbooks,
including not only the whole of the deliciously sensitive frenulum but also
most of the foreskin's sensitive inner mucosa" she said, in an ex cathedra
matter of fact tone that left absolutely no doubt that this was not a
question for democratic debate.

   "The tip of the frenulum I am completely gouging out to form a wicked
little triangular scar, tightly stretched across and into the sulcus, that
is, the valley or cleft that divides the glans on the underside of the
cockhead.  In addition, the circumcision will be very low and tight, with
only a millimetre or two of sensitive inner mucosa between the glans and
the less sensitive outer skin of the lower cock shaft.  I am also chopping
off so much that the skin and the hairs of the scrotum will be pulled half
way up the cock shaft when the victim is erect!  Oh wow!  This will be a
circumcision to remember me by!"

   "Bitch," muttered Jim gloomily.

   "What was that?" asked Jill sharply.

   "Oh, nothing," replied Jim quickly, obviously thinking better of his
complaint.

   Jill stopped what she was doing, put her face a few inches from Jim's
and eyeballed him out truculently.

   "Oh yes it was something!" she fumed.  "I heard that, young man."

   Then she took her surgical marker in her hand again and drew another
line around Jim's cock just below the first one.  Then she eyeballed her
victim again.

   "You have just earned yourself a quarter inch surcharge," she continued.
"What have you got to say about that then?"

   "Bitch!" muttered Jim again, defiantly.

   Without uttering another word, Jill promptly took her marker and briskly
drew a third line just below the other two.  Then she eyeballed Jim yet
again.

   "Half inch surcharge" she added pertly.  "If this goes on young man,
your cock will have more rings around it than a hornet's arse."

   This threat at last reduced Jim to silent compliance, and he said
nothing.

   Jill, however, decided to rub Jim's nose in it.  "That half inch
surcharge," she explained, "is a whole extra half inch of skin off your
cock!  And it's even worse than that.  The flesh of your foreskin is
doubled over and I am going to cut it as I find it.  So that makes it a
full inch of skin off your cock.  The circumference of your cock shaft is
probably just over 5 inches.  So the price of those two words, those two
'bitches' of yours, is 5 x 1 = 5 square inches of extra skin chopped off
and missing from your cock shaft for the rest of your life!  Now, have you
ever heard of 15 Square?  Well it is a British pressure group opposed to
circumcision.  It takes its name from the fact that, on average, about 15
square inches of cock skin is missing from the foreskin of a circumcised
adult man.  Well, from the start I vowed that I would rob your cock of a
lot more than that.  My initial plan was to take off about 20 square
inches. Then there are these 5 extra square inches that you have just
earned for yourself.  That adds up to a total of 25 square inches of
foreskin and shaft skin taken off your cock.  If I were you I would shudder
to think about it.  And all because you couldn't button your lip!  Oh, yes!
I'm going to teach you not to be sassy with me, young man!  I'm going to
make you very, very sorry for yourself!  Oh, and yes!  If it's any
consolation, you are right!  I am a bitch!"

   Jim took all of this in silence, but by now he was very upset.  Then I
saw a big, wet salty tear well up from his right eye and trickle down his
cheek.  Then a second large tear dropped from his left eye and cascaded
down his other cheek.  Next his face crumpled up and he began to sob,
quietly, helplessly and rhythmically.

   Jill observed all of this and then looked at me with an expression that
indicated pity and sympathy for the victim.  But it was not enough to
divert her from her course.  She had told Jim what she was going to do, and
now she was going to do it.  As for me, I too felt sorry for my spouse, but
my sorrow was not as strong as my anger against his adultery and his
betrayal.

   "There," Jill remarked to me quietly.  "That seems to have broken him. I
think he will be a good boy from now on." And I nodded my agreement.

   Ten minutes later the local anaesthetic had taken effect and Jill had
removed her surgical knife from the sterilising dish.

   Meanwhile, I prepared my camcorder and my high quality Japanese digital
camera and flashgun for action, since I was determined to catch all this on
film.

   The actual operation was over quickly since Jill was very brisk and free
with her knife.  Within seconds (or so it seemed), and almost before I had
time to focus my camcorder, she had cut around the lowest of the three
lines on Jim's cock.

   Soon there was an open wound about 5 inches long around the cock shaft,
and Jim's bloodied foreskin was lying in a stainless steel dish.

   Jill had threaded her surgeon's needle in advance, and now she quickly
stitched around the cut.

   "I suppose I should be taking more care, and doing a neater job" she
remarked insouciantly.  "As it is the scar will heal up all ugly, pitted
and pockmarked, and the cock will look beat up, battered and victimised. 
It's a messy job.  There will probably be skin flaps and stitch tunnels. 
But then, like most surgeons, my time is valuable and I cannot concern
myself with purely cosmetic considerations."

   Jill was clearly enjoying herself enormously, and had concocted in
advance some superb wind-ups!  When she had finished the stitching, she cut
off the thread.  Then, as I had previously agreed with her, she carefully
stretched the severed foreskin between two glass plates, clamped the plates
together, put them into a large, old fashioned pickling jar filled with
formaldehyde, sealed the jar and presented it to me.

   "There you go," she said triumphantly.  "There are about 25 square
inches of adulterous foreskin there."

   Then she pointed at the foreskin in the jar.

   "There," she commented.  "There is the frenulum.  I have excavated it
completely.  And just behind it, look.  Do you see that flap of wrinkled
skin?  Well that is the ridged band.  I was particularly careful to chop
that off in its entirety.  I have been reading up on all the latest
research on foreskins in preparation.  I discovered that the ridged band
plays a crucial role in sexual pleasure and enjoyment, and that its
excision leads to a significantly less ecstatic sexual experience.  Well,
all I can say is that after what he has done to you the bastard deserves
it. I came here this morning determined to make him pay, and I think that I
have just succeeded."

   Well, this was the last straw that broke the camel's back.

   "Aaagh!"

   Jim let out a piteous yell and then, feeling angry, frustrated and very,
very sorry for himself, he broke down into a renewed bout of helpless sobs
and tears.

   "It's too late for that now, young man," said his tormentor impassively.
"If you can't do the time, then you shouldn't do the crime.  You've had
your pleasure.  Now you are going to pay for it, every single day of your
life.  Anyway, I will be back next week, same time, same place, for a
post-op inspection.  And I warn you, young man, that if this cock offends
again, I will re-circumcise it for you by cutting off even more shaft skin
from around the scar."

   Then Jill took Jim's newly chopped cock into her hands and inspected it
carefully.  She was clearly transfixed and fascinated by her handiwork. 
Her eyes shone brightly as she ran her fingers all around the scar, smiling
in delight and satisfaction.

   "Yes," she said smugly.  "I've punished him for his adultery to you and
his insolence to me.  I've circumcised him very tightly indeed.  I enjoyed
doing that.  The bastard had it coming to him."

   Then Jill gently pulled all around the thread with which she had sewn up
the cut and meticulously scrutinised her needlework.  Jim felt nothing
(yet!), of course, because of the effects of the local anaesthetic.  But,
temporarily abandoning his helpless sobs and tears, he surely yelped at the
sexy verbals when Jill unleashed her parting shot.

   "My word, young man" she exclaimed pertly.  "I've stitched you up good
and proper, haven't I?"

   "Ayeeee!" howled the victim, and the cry was somewhere between a howl
and a sob.

   Jill then biffed off quickly out of the house.  Within seconds, the roar
off her car engine signalled that she was gone.  In all, she had been with
us for less than half an hour.  But she had played her part superbly, and
after 8.30 a.m.  Jim's cock was never the same again, and his sex life had
been changed forever!

   I instructed Jim to stay in bed for the rest of the day to recuperate
from the operation.  The next stage of his comeuppance, I told him, would
commence at 8.30 p.m., when the effects of his local anaesthetic had worn
off and he was feeling nice and sore.  I then tended and looked after my
spouse for the rest of the day.

   At 8.30 p.m.  sharp I abruptly entered our bedroom.

   I had just showered and perfumed myself and fixed my hair.  I was
wearing a lacy, cutaway black bra designed for use with low cut evening
gowns, skimpy, frilly black knickers, black suspender belt, black fish net
stockings and black stiletto heeled shoes.

   I had never dressed kinky for Jim before, and he was stunned.  He gazed
transfixed for a long time.  Then he grinned lasciviously as he sniffed my
expensive perfume.

   "Right, my boy," I said sternly, "I will soon wipe that smirk off your
face.  Get out of bed."

   I then told Jim to strip, put on a jock strap and close his eyes.  Jim
did as he was told, wincing ruefully as the tight fitting athletic support
rubbed and pressed against his sore, newly cut cock.  I then came at him
with a plastic jar of finely ground table salt, to which I had added just a
tiny bit of water to make it moist and sloppy.  I pulled open the pouch of
his jock strap and pushed his freshly chopped cock firmly into the jar,
completely submerging it in wet, sticky salt.  I then released the tight
fitting jock strap pouch so that it held the salt jar in position.

   Wow!  As soon as Jim's cut cock hit that wet salt, he gave out a
tremendous yell of pain and fury, leapt onto the bed and lay there on his
back writhing and cursing helplessly.

   "Oh, you bitch, you bitch!" he yelled over and over again.  "You cruel,
spiteful bitch!"

   "Oh," I remarked, feigning sympathy, "So you think that I am being too
strict with you, do you?"

   By now Jim's curses had subsided into whimpers of pain.

   "Yes."

   "Well now that the effects of the anaesthetic have worn off I suppose
that your cock is very sore and tender.  Is that right?"

   "Oh, God!  Yes!  The salt is stinging like hell.  Aw!  Aw!!  Aw!!!"

   "OK.  I tell you what.  Shall I take your mind off your sore, tender,
stinging cock?  Would you like me to do that for you?"

   And Jim fell into the trap.

   "Oh yes!  Yes please!  Anything!  Anything to take my mind off it!  Aw!
Aw!  Aw!  I'm in agony here!"

   "OK.  Stand on that mat, face away from the window, bend over and grasp
your ankles with your hands."

   Jim obeyed these instructions so that his rump was perfectly presented
to me.  Then, with two long, sturdy garden click ties I quickly secured his
wrists to his ankles.

   "Hey, what are you doing?"

   I made no answer.  Instead I retrieved a thin, supple rattan cane from a
bedside drawer and swished it through the air a few times.

   "What the..."

   Crack!

   I inflicted a wicked little flick from the cane straight across the bare
meat of Jim's bum.

   The blow was like a slap from a riding crop rather than a fierce cut,
but it was still hard enough to make the buttocks shudder.  The recipient
let out a shrill, involuntary, howl of pain.

   "Come on," I urged, "Straighten your legs and keep your balance." And I
gave the bare bum another, slightly harder, little flick, to exactly the
same place as the first one had landed.

   Whack!

   Howl!

   I then stretched out the palm of my left hand and gently pushed the back
of Jim's head towards the floor.

   "Come on!" I said.  "You're beginning to annoy me."

   I then administered a third flick, slightly harder again, onto meat that
was by now all red and tingly.

   Crack!

   Yell!

   These three preparatory flicks were not particularly hard, but Jim was
quite obviously of the opinion that he did not want to take a fourth one
like that!  He was pushing his legs straight, keeping his bent over body as
upright as possible, and grunting madly to comply with my orders.  Thus, by
now, Jim was reaching and straining until the tendons at the back of his
straightened knees ached, and he was gasping from the effort of stretching.
I always do this before I cane Jim.  It stops him from flexing, hardening
and tightening the muscles of his buttocks against the strokes of the cane.
I like his rump to be soft, unprotected and vulnerable when the cane starts
to bite into it in earnest.

   Jim then took 12 strokes of the cane across his bare bottom.

   I had purchased the thinnest, whippiest rattan cane that I could get
from an Internet sex shop.  It was a so-called `junior cane' and was less,
I should think, than the diameter of a pencil.  For several days I had
immersed it in linseed oil to make it even more supple and springy.  I
really laid into Jim with it, whacking him as hard as I could.  The only
concession that I made was that after stroke number one (which I brought
down right onto the red weal created by my preparatory flicks) I spread the
strokes over the full area of his buttocks, rather than concentrating them
in one part.

   I took my time and waited several seconds between strokes, to give the
bare bum plenty of time to sting and smart.  By the time I had finished
with him, Jim had 12 deep, red, livid ridges, already beginning to turn
blue, cut into the fleshy meat of his backside.

   Again, I was amazed that Jim stood in position and took his caning like
a man.  But he did.  Swish, crack, swish, crack went the cane and at every
cut Jim howled piteously in his agony.

   Afterwards, I monitored the 12 stripes.  Much to Jill's amusement, they
were still clearly observable when she came for her post-op inspection a
week later.

   "Well, young man, I offered to take your mind off your stinging,
throbbing cock, didn't I?  Has that done the trick?"

   To which Jim made no answer.

   I then kept my husband bent over for 20 minutes, with his cock smarting
in the salt and his bum stinging from the cane, while the click ties
binding his wrists to his ankles prevented him from rubbing his stinging,
smarting bottom.

   This, I then told Jim, was the "punishment of the thirteen cuts, one
with the knife and twelve with the cane."

   Thirteen, I added, was unlucky for some, and, in this case, particularly
unlucky for him!  He had been punished fore and aft, and there was plenty
more to come!

   I then cut through Jim's click ties with a pair of scissors and
peremptorily ordered him to the sparebedroom, telling him to return for the
next stage of his punishment at 8.30 p.m.  the next evening.

   As Jim left I allowed my stern dominatrix mask to slip.  I embraced him
tenderly and puckered up my lips.  Then, as we were about to kiss, I
relaxed my pucker and pushed my moist, yielding lips full against my
husband's.  Then I gave him a deliciously teasing French kiss, darting my
tongue quickly and lightly all around the inside of his mouth.

   Despite his throbbing cock and his smarting rump Jim returned my kiss
with passion.

   "Go on, be off with you," I said coquettishly, and I gave my husband a
sharp, playful slap with the flat of my hand across the bare meat of his
buttocks.

   "Agh," yelled the victim in agony.

   I grinned again.  "Does it hurt when I slap you across your cuts?" I
asked innocently.

   "What do you bloody well think?" howled the victim.

   "Oh, oh!" I replied.  "Naughty!  We must learn to show madam proper
respect."

   And I delivered another sharp, playful slap to exactly the same place.

   "Bitch" muttered Jim involuntarily.

   This time the smack I delivered was sharp and disciplinary rather than
playful, and my tone was angry.

   Slap!

   "What did you say?"

   "Bitch!"

   Slap!

   "I beg your pardon?"

   "Bitch!"

   Slap!

   This went on until Jim had taken six hard hand spanks, at which point I
had broken him.  He apologised humbly and begged me for mercy.

   But he did not get it.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and ordered
him across my knee for extra chastisement.  It took some time to get him
there since I had to manoeuvre the salt jar between my open thighs.  But
eventually Jim was in the classic spanking position just as if he were a
naughty little boy, and his bare, upturned rump was perfectly positioned
for my descending right hand.

   "Right!" I said.  "I'll teach you to be cheeky.  It's hard hand on soft
bottom for you, my boy!  You're going to get another six of the best!"

   Slap!

   Silence.

   "That's better.  Take it quietly or you will be feeling even sorrier for
yourself."

   Slap!!

   Slap!!!

   SLAP!

   SLAP!!

   SLAP!!!

   "Now get out!"

   As my husband left he was indeed feeling and looking very sorry for
himself.

   As for me, I could see the funny side.  I giggled saucily and advised
him to sleep on his side.  I also told him that this was only the beginning
of his punishment, and reminded him to report for more in 24 hours' time.

   Epilogue

   All of the above happened some years ago.  During that time I have given
birth to four children, three girls and a boy.  In bed normal sexual
relations have been resumed between me and Jim and we are enjoying a
reasonably happy married life together.

   I have, however, maintained a disciplinary regime for my husband, and
Jim is frequently slippered, strapped, caned, and subjected to a variety of
other punishments and humiliations.  He also endures, especially when we
are in bed together, a regime of constant torments and teases.  Page 15 of
16

### PART 2 ###

   Readers, welcome!  And a special welcome to those of you who are lovers
of FemDom and amused and sexually stimulated by my fate!  I am Jim
Phillips, the husband of Maggie, the adulterer who got tightly circumcised
by his wife's best friend, and then caned by his wife.  Laugh at me!  Tease
me!  Mock me!  Humble me!  Shame me!  Make me cringe and squirm!  Never let
me off the hook!  I deserve it.  It is part of my punishment.

   Another part of my punishment is that I am under strict instructions to
write accounts of my continuing chastisements and to post them onto the
World Wide Web for all to see.  I am forced to write this or my bare rump
will get strapped and caned.

   After Maggie discovered my adultery, and to avoid marital breakdown and
divorce, I swore on the Bible a solemn oath that, for the rest of my life,
I would submit to whatever discipline and punishments my wife resolved to
inflict upon me.  Maggie has enforced that regime with strictness and
vigour.  My rash commitment has kept my wife in my bed, but at a stinging
and humiliating cost.

   I have a good job, and I work hard to feed and maintain my wife and
children.  When I arrive home in the evening, tired and exhausted, I must
go straight to the notice board in our bedroom for my instructions.  If I
am lucky these will read "Free Night." Other messages, however, are less
welcome.  These include:

   10 p.m.  Bedroom.  Discipline.  10 p.m.  Bedroom.  Tawse.  10 p.m. 
Bedroom.  Cane.

   The most problematic, however, is:

   10 p.m.  Bedroom.  Privates Parade.

   This instruction requires me to report to our boudoir at the appointed
hour, strip stark naked, with my privates on display, and stand in the
corner of the room, hands on head, facing the wall.  I then wait in
trepidation for up to an hour until my wife condescends to grant me her
presence.

   Then she barks out her orders like a regimental sergeant major:

   "Face aaa-BOUT!"

   At which I turn through 180 degrees.

   "`Tennn-SHUN!"

   In reply I give a smart military salute, pull back my shoulders,
straighten and stiffen my body, and shout back: "Yeees, MA'AM!"

   Then comes the dreaded order.

   "Onnnn POINTE!"

   Now `en pointe' is a French ballet expression.  It literally means `on
point.' It describes a ballerina when she strikes a pose, tip toe on one
leg, balanced on the end of her shoe, arms outstretched, gracefully poised.

   But, according to the Urban Dictionary, in street slang `en pointe' also
means "perfect, great, awesome," or, as we might say in English, "Just so"
or "Spot on."

   For madam, my wife, the instruction `en pointe' is an order to my cock.
It must stiffen, straighten, stand proud and hold itself at attention; but
after a hard day at work, and a lengthy session of standing up, in fear and
trepidation, in the corner, I frequently fail to do that.

   So madam titillates me.  She puts slow, seductive music on the audio
player.  She strips off in a sexy routine that leaves her totally naked. 
Her palms massage what is left of my cock skin after the depredations of
the circumciser's knife, and her fingernails tickle and gently scratch the
back of my scrotum.  Tired as I am, these saucy shenanigans frequently
excite my cock to bone hard erection; and that is the best outcome for me
because one of two things then happens.  Either my wife slaps my face and
tells me that I am not getting it tonight.  Or she takes me to bed to enjoy
her bodily treasures.

   Oh wow!  My wife is beautiful, and that is my fervent wish, my greatest
delight, and my best pleasure!

   Worse for me is if my wife's bodily charms and blandishments fail to put
my cock `en pointe' and at attention.  If my cock does not attain a
stiffness that she finds acceptable she talks dirty about my adultery and
my ex-lover, Jane.

   "That little bimbo!  I bet you would be rock hard for her, wouldn't you?
You still fancy her don't you?  You wish she were here now, instead of me,
don't you?  Wouldn't you like to hold her pert little titties in the palms
of your hands?  How you ache to playfully slap her meaty little rump.  How
you long to caress her inner thighs, to run your fingers through her pubic
hair.  Wouldn't you just love to finger her tight little cunny and flick
her stiff, aroused clitoris?  What would you not give to rub your tightly
circumcised, rock hard cock up and down her sticky excited love tunnel
until you both explode in violent, ecstatic orgasm?"

   Well, dear reader, it is not really fair.  I lost my foreskin, shaft
skin and frenulum in a tight, extreme circumcision, and from that I learnt
my lesson.  I am now a good boy, and a true and a faithful husband.  But
what man would not be sexually excited by talk like that, especially
accompanied, as it is, by my naked wife's lascivious embraces, her tweaks
to my cock, and her teasing tickles and scratches to my scrotum?

   Soon I am `en pointe,' at attention, and with a cock like a rock.

   My wife then flattens her right hand and brings it across hard onto my
left cheek.

   Slap!

   "That's it!  You still love her, don't you?  Tomorrow night, my boy, you
will pay for that!"

   When I arrive home from work on the next evening there is a note on the
board: 10 p.m.  Bedroom.  Discipline.
A standard Discipline Session starts with 3 "Hail Scalpels" accompanied

by three scalpel kisses.

   After my circumcision Jill, my wife's best friend and the circumcising
surgeon, donated the scalpel that had sliced off full 25 square inches of
my cock skin to my wife.

   "Make him kiss this frequently, and pay homage to it.  It will keep him
humble and contrite."

   So first I must read out the rubric from a prompt card, slow, loud and
clearly articulated:

   "Hail surgical scalpel with thy sharp blade of carbon steel.  Hail thou
punisher of my adulterous flesh.  By thee have I been tightly and messily
circumcised.  To thee have I sacrificed a full 25 square inches of foreskin
and shaft skin.  By thee has my entire frenulum been chopped off, stripped
out and excised.  From thee has my cock received an ugly annular scar.  I
thank thee for the punishment that thou hast rightly inflicted upon me and
I acknowledge it as just; in token whereof I contritely kiss thee in all
humility and submission."

   At which Madam holds the sharp end of the scalpel, blunt side forward,
to my lips and I am required to give it a slow, lingering kiss.

   This entire rigmarole is then repeated another twice--a total of 3 "Hail
Scalpels" and three scalpel kisses.

   Next comes, 12 times, the "Hail Tawse" ritual.  I touch my toes keeping
my legs straight.  Maggie usually slaps me into position with a few
gratuitous flicks from the strap.  Then I must read out the rubric from a
prompt card, slow, loud, and clearly articulated:

   "Hail Lochgelly tawse!  Hail thou disciplinary strap of sharp slapping
leather!  Hail thou punisher of my adulterous flesh!  To thee do I offer up
my naked rump.  By thee is my rump striped, stung and tingled.  I thank
thee for the punishment that thou dost rightly inflict upon it and
acknowledge it as just; in token whereof I most humbly offer up to thee the
naked flesh of my bare buttocks.  Please inflict across them the first slap
of my 12 of the best."

   Crack!

   "Hail Lochgelly tawse...  the second slap...  etc."

   Then, after the twelfth and final slap, I am required to read from a
prompt card, slow, loud and clearly articulated:

   "Hail Lochgelly tawse!  Hail thou disciplinary strap of sharp slapping
leather!  Hail thou punisher of my adulterous flesh!  To thee have I
offered up my naked rump.  By thee has my rump been striped, stung and
tingled.  I thank thee for the punishment that thou hast rightly inflicted
upon it and acknowledge it as just; in token whereof I most contritely kiss
thee in all humbleness and submission."

   Madam then holds the business end of the tawse, slapping side, to my
lips, and I am required to give it a slow, lingering kiss.

   Next comes, 6 times, the "Hail Junior Cane" ritual.  I touch my toes
keeping my legs straight.  Maggie usually whacks me into position with a
few gratuitous flicks from the junior cane.  Then, I must read out the
rubric from a prompt card, slow, loud, and clearly articulated:

   "Hail Junior Cane!  Hail thou disciplinary rod of sharp cutting rattan!
Hail thou punisher of my adulterous flesh!  To thee do I offer up my naked
rump.  By thee is my rump cut, stung and made to throb.  I thank thee for
the punishment that thou dost rightly inflict upon me and acknowledge it as
just; in token whereof I most humbly offer up to thee the naked flesh of my
bare buttocks.  Please inflict across them the first cut of my 6 of the
best."

   Crack!

   "Hail Junior Cane...  the second cut...  etc."

   Then, after the sixth and final cut, I am required to read from a prompt
card, slow, loud and clearly articulated:

   "Hail Junior Cane!  Hail thou disciplinary rod of sharp cutting rattan.
Hail thou punisher of my adulterous flesh.  To thee have I offered up my
naked rump.  By thee has my rump been cut, stung and made to throb.  I
thank thee for the punishment that thou hast rightly inflicted upon it and
acknowledge it as just; in token whereof I most contritely kiss thee in all
humbleness and submission."

   Madam then holds the business end of the junior cane to my lips and I am
required to give it a slow, lingering kiss.  I am forbidden to rub my bum.
Instead I am stood in the corner, hands on head, face to the wall, for 15
minutes while my bum stings, tingles and throbs.

   I then have to put away the scalpel.  I am then required to lubricate
the tawse and the cane with linseed oil.  Then I put them both away. 
Finally I take the "Record of Discipline" book from the drawer and enter
into it:
(Date): Tawse 12, Cane 6.
When I have put away the book my punishment is over and I am allowed to
get into bed.  If I am lucky I might find my wife forgiving and open to my
amatory advances.  If I am unlucky I get my face slapped, my wife turns
away from me, and I go to sleep with a sore bum, rueing my adultery and

feeling very sorry for myself.

   Ever since my adultery was discovered my wife's best friend, Jillian
Philpott, has made my life a misery.  At the time Jill was a medical
student.  It was she who, at Maggie's request, circumcised me; and she cut
me extremely tight.

   For a standard cock chop the cut is made about 1.5 inches from the tip
of the foreskin.  The foreskin is a double fold of flesh.  This means that
about three inches of foreskin are removed.  The cock is about five inches
in circumference when erect, so about 3 x 5 = 15 square inches of skin is
routinely cut off.

   Jill, however, to punish me and to teach me a lesson, marked my cock for
the surgery with a line 2 inches up my foreskin.  This would have removed
about four inches of prepuce and 4 x 5 = 20 square inches of cock skin.

   However, to chasten me for a couple of lippy remarks that I made to her,
Jill decided that I should be stripped of a further half inch of doubled
over skin and drew the final line 2.5 inches down my prepuce.  This removed
about five inches of prepuce and 5 x 5 = 25 square inches of cock skin. 
Then, in addition to that, she completely stripped out and excavated my
deliciously sensitive frenulum so that not the slightest vestige of it is
left and the underside of my erect cock is now smooth and tight.

   Now the 20 square inches and the excision of the frenulum were fair
enough.  I had committed egregious and wrongful adultery against my wife
and I deserved to be severely punished for it.  But that extra 5 square
inches for talking back have left me boiling and fuming with anger.  You
have probably read the story for yourself, dear reader.  If you have you
will know that, when roused by Jill's kinky taunts, I called her a bitch a
couple of times.  Well just for that an extra 1 x 5 = 5 square inches has
been hacked off my cock.  Wow!  A square patch of flesh 5 inches by 5
inches!  Twenty-five square inches!  Chopped off my cock!  And I will never
get it back.

   Even worse, Jill and Maggie constantly tease me about it.  The
"surcharge" Jill tells me was well deserved.  She adds that, by cutting an
inch deeper, she has "squared the oblong."

   Now the "Cock Skin Display Jar," more usually referred to as the
"Display Jar," is a large old fashioned glass pickling jar filled with
formaldehyde.  It contains my severed cock skin clamped between two glass
plates.  Jill did the clamping immediately after my circumcision.  Then she
sealed the jar and presented it to my wife.

   This jar is on permanent display on the dresser at Maggie's side of our
double bed.  During foreplay my wife will take it from the dresser, hold it
in front of my face, and mock me with it.  And oh, but she has perfected
some infuriating, wicked teases and torments; and while she inflicts them
she giggles, grins and laughs at me.  To her it is all one big joke, but to
me it is maddening.  Yet I dare not say a word out of place in anger or
resentment.  If I do I get the strap, or the cane, or both.

   Then sometimes, when Jill is present, Maggie instructs me to fetch the
Display Jar from the bedroom.  Then the two ladies scrutinise the contents
of the jar and fall into a discussion as to whether the pickled cock skin
really is square shaped, or slightly oblong.

   "You know, Jill, it looks pretty square to me.  If there is any
elongation I would say that it is in the depth rather than the width.  I
suspect that you might have cut into the skin by a smidgeon more than the
2.5 inches you were aiming at."

   "Yes, Maggie.  I agree.  The shape seems to be more or less exactly
square to me, but at all events the width is definitely no longer than the
depth.  How do you see it, Jim?"

   By this time I am seething with anger, but I have to disguise my fury
with a suitably polite, contrite and anodyne reply.

   "It's too close to call, Jill.  I would rather not say."

   At which Jill will smile at me.

   "Yes.  O.K."

   Then, turning to my wife, she will add, in an approving, indulgent and
patronising tone:

   "I must say, Maggie, your husband is a lot more courteous now than on
the day he was circumcised."

   Of the various punishments that Maggie inflicts upon me the most painful
are the cane cuts.  The rattan is light, but very thin and whippy, and I
always take a minimum of six of the best.  The cuts are closely bunched
together.  They are sometimes inflicted across the sweet spot just above my
thighs, next to my perineum and between my scrotum and my anus:

   Swish, crack!  Swish, crack!  And so on.

   Alternatively, I sometimes get the tawse first.  That inflicts red
stripes across my sweet spot.  Then the cane strokes are applied just above
the stripes from the belt, across the middle of my bum cheeks.

   When I object to these canings Maggie is infuriatingly dismissive.  She
laughs off my complaints.  It is only a junior cane, she will say.  In the
old days it was used to discipline children in primary schools up to the
age of eleven.  If she were using a thicker, heavier, senior cane I might
have something to complain about; but she is merciful and kind hearted, she
will claim, and she is letting me off lightly.  Well my wife has a point, I
suppose.  But, on the other hand, that thin, whippy rattan really cuts into
my hide, and its sting is horrendous.  Sometimes the pain is so sharp that,
despite my best efforts, I can take it no longer and I burst into tears. 
When that happens my wife mocks me, and calls me a cry baby and a wimp. 
But she does delay the completion of my chastisement until the following
evening.

   My dear reader, are you familiar with the Ode to Melancholy by John
Keats?  "In the very temple of Delight," writes the poet, "Veil'd
Melancholy has her sovran shrine." The point he is making is that pleasure
is fleeting.  We all know this, and it causes us twinges of sadness even in
our most joyous moments.

   But with me there is an extra dimension to my regrets.  My wife is
exquisitely beautiful.  I love her and, despite the depredations of the
circumciser's knife, sexual coitus with her drives me to paroxysms of
intense bodily pleasure.  And yet!  And yet!  As I hover on the brink of
orgasm, as I pause and savour the moment before I enter Nirvana and Seventh
Heaven--well!  My tight immobile cock skin tugs hard up my stiffened shaft.
In, out, in, out goes my ramrod.  But the cock skin has no give at all, and
my cock, already numbed by circumcision, now becomes raw and sore as well.
Meanwhile my frenulum has been completely excavated and delivers no
sensation at all.

   I may be lucky.  My wife and I sometimes climax together.  Wow!  That is
by far my greatest pleasure in life.  But then I ponder on what my adultery
and my circumcision have robbed me of.  I think of a purple, unkeratinised
glans.  I think of the sybaritic delights of a wrinkled ridged band.  I
think of a foreskin packed with tens of thousands of nerves and pleasure
receptors.  I think of an intact, exquisitely sensitive triangular frenulum
harnessed to the dimpled ridge on the underside of my cock head.  I think
of the cock, I think of the coitus, that I might have had.  And, when I
think of all that I am missing, it brings me close to tears of frustration
and self-pity.

   However, Maggie's disciplinary regime is not always so strict and
severe. As time has gone on sometimes even the canings are not as hard as
they once were.  For madam is capricious.  She can quickly change from
strict dominatrix to romantic, loving spouse.

   "You are booked for a caning tonight aren't you, my boy?"

   "Yes, ma'am."

   "Oh, well.  You are forgiven.  Take me to bed and make love to me."

   One reason for my wife's gentler touch of late is her desire for
pregnancy.  At the time of my adultery with Jane we had no children.  Now
we have three, and Maggie wants more.  She tells me that this is part of my
punishment.

   "I will give you many children, my boy.  I will make you pay for your
illicit pleasures.  I will make you toil.  I will make you sweat.  I will
make you mop your brow as you slave away to maintain me and your offspring
in the comfortable middle class station to which we have become
accustomed."

   But there is more to it than that.  My wife and I both love children,
and I am prepared to give her as many as she will take.  For me an added
bonus is that when my wife is pregnant, and for a short period after every
birth, I am released from the disciplinary regime which I am usually forced
to endure.  I recently asked my wife whether she would ever release me from
my domestic bondage.

   "Oh no," she replied, "Of course not.  I love disciplining you, and I
love teasing you.  You are a good sport; and it is excellent fun."