What’s more fun than a day of shopping on someone else’s credit card and then having an hour long orgasm? Castrating some little shitbag who has the nerve to think he has the right to breathe the same air as I. I met one of these human herpes-sores this very evening and my mind went into overdrive!
I popped into a bookstore to pick up a birthday gift for a dear friend. I knew exactly what I wanted to purchase and where it was in the store, so it should have been a simple in-and-out, five minute errand. Unfortunately the moment I walked in I heard a pompous, windbag, know-it-all, piss-poor excuse for a man howling at the top of his lungs at a sales person. I overheard said windbag accusing the young salesman of deliberately backing into him, thereby making him twist his ankle and drop his intended purchases. He went on the humiliate the poor kid, who was undoubtedly simply trying to do his job, by calling him “Blind Bob” and suggesting he watch where he’s going. Leave it to me to turn this into a hot fantasy…LOL.
The first thing I wanted to do was rush to the kid’s defense since he looked as if he were about to cry, piss himself, or both. The second thing I wanted to do was to teach this asshole bully how it feels to be emasculated. I imagined strolling up to him, bending seductively to pick up his dropped books, and while handing them to him saying something like – I do love a man who knows his place in the world and doesn’t take shit from underlings. This seems like such a waste of perfectly good energy though. Maybe we could think of a better way for you to blow off some steam…together.
These thoughts entered my head before I could stop them and once they got going, it was not going to be easy to stop them. I grabbed a book at random and found a plush chair within earshot of the scene so I could pretend to read, listen to what was going on, and plot out my little fantasy.
I imagined “Mr. X” giving me a cheesy grin that he would feel certain was charming, but in reality would be creepy and disgusting. I just know his chest would inflate with the pride of knowing that his loutish behavior made a woman so hot for him that she couldn’t keep from throwing herself at him in the “New Fiction” section of the local Barnes and Noble. My brain flew through a million different ways to get him alone but the bottom line was that once I did, in fact, get him alone I would teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
It would start out as your average seduction scene; kissing, touching, whispering our naughty intentions to one another. The key here is the tease. When he reaches for you, you stay just out of reach or let his hand just barely brush your skin. When he wants to kiss you deeply, you pull back at the last second and give him only the very tip of your soft, moist tongue. When he wants to rip your clothes from your body and hungrily gaze at your naked perfection, tell him that he can have everything he’s drreaming of if he will do one, small, thing for you. This is where you tell him that you have a particular kink and that most men are too afraid to play it out for you. This is a challenge he will not be able to resist.
It is here that I would ask “Mr. X” to let me tie him up. I would tell him that it’s light kink, at best, and that only a man who can overcome fear would be willing to let me do that to him. He would offer up his wrists like sacrificial virgins to the slaughter in nothing flat! As I sat in the bookstore pretending to read and dreaming up this fantasy, I began to worry at this point about leaving a wet spot on the store’s chair since by now I was becoming so horny my pussy was humming like a tuning fork and I was marinating in myown sweet juices.
Anyway, I imagined that once I had his wrists tied securely behind his back I would pull out my handy, dandy, at-home castration kit consisting of a box of thin rawhide strips, a syringe with a large-bore needle attached, some saline solution, and a pair of poultry shears. I would explain in great detail to “Mr. X” that wet rawhide shrinks considerably as it dries…all the while soaking a long, thin strip with the saline. The look of confusion on his moronic face would soon turn to terrified knowing when he realizes that I am pulling his ball sac down and wrapping the dripping rawhide TIGHTLY around the base. How adorable would he become when he started whimpering and begging to be set free, the reality of his situation hitting him like a wrecking ball? The very thought of his terror makes me shiver with anticipation and excitement.
As his begging and crying became an unintelligible gurgling I would be wrapping another wet rawhide strip around his sac, just above the balls, leaving a strip of flesh between the pieces of leather. Now it’s time for the syringe and needle.
As I filled the syringe with a large amount of saline solution, I would ask “X” what could possibly give him more pain and humiliation than having his balls bound. The answer, or course, is having your balls so filled with liquid that they could literally burst at any given moment and then being kicked repeatedly in said balls with 5″ spiked heels.
If you can’t figure out what I use the poultry shears for, or just want to hear it from my very own lips, call me at the number at the top of the site. I would love to finish the story just for you!
