Chapter 7
John's first reaction to his lamentable state was a profound and shocking disbelief. This couldn't have happened to him. He had great difficulty in accepting and assimilating the fact of his castration. It was a normal reaction. Anyone else would have acted the same. It is, indeed, not easy to accept the loss of one's virility.
But with the passing of time, it is said, all wounds heal. And this is precisely what happened to John. After a month they physical wounds disappeared. It took a little longer for the psychological effects to diminish.
But eventually John's initial panic and shock, changed into a more philosophical attitude. After all, he reasoned, to be a eunuch is not the worst thing in the world. A more terrible thing might have happened. He might have been killed. He might have been struck down by some incurable disease. Thousands of more horrible things might have happened.
But they didn't. And for this he was grateful. He was grateful that he still had a comfortable home, a sizable bank account, a secure, if somewhat boring job, and exceptionally good health.
True, he no longer had the sex drive, and he no longer experienced the exhilaration of orgasm. True, the touch of a young girl's snowy white hands no longer excited him. True, he no longer lusted after the female of the species, but, if one were to be objective about the situation, one could easily recognize that this was a blessing in disguise.
While other men chased after lust, and experienced only frustration and anger, John was now able to lead a calm and tranquil existence. He no longer was a slave of his animal passions. He no longer turned around in the streets to look after the young girls dressed in their tight fitting summer dresses. He was totally indifferent to their feminine wiles and charms. They were no longer complicating his life.
For this John was indeed grateful. And he was grateful for one other thing. For Selina. He was very pleased that she remained with him.
At first, of course, John wanted to kill the bitch who was responsible for his undoing. But, by and by, he recognized the impracticability of this solution. If he killed her, he no doubt would be acquitted by a jury. She, after all, had subjected him to the most extreme provocation. Any decent, law-abiding jury would readily accept that the bitch deserved killing.
But to kill Selina would subject him to unwanted notoriety and publicity. John wanted only peace and tranquility. He had no desire to be thrust into the limelight of newspaper interviews, and press photographs.
He therefore rejected homicide as a solution. There was another way to get even with Selina. There was another, more practical way. John was determined to continue with the process which he had begun after learning of her infidelity. He would continue to degrade and humiliate her. He would continue to challenge, and eventually to destroy her sanity. He would turn her into a beast He would turn her into a wild animal. John knew enough about psychology to feel competent for this rather challenging task.
But in order to effect this metamorphosis, he would have to keep Selina with him. He would have to keep Selina from leaving him and getting a divorce. He had no difficulty with this phase of the program. Selina was more than willing to stay. It was clear to her that she had no place else to go. She had no way to support herself decently. In order to live she would have to resort to prostitution, a profession for which she felt contempt and loathing. She would prefer starvation to prostitution. Anything was better, in her point of view.
When John agreed to keep her on as his wife, however, she was thankful that she no longer had to make the awful and dreaded move into the streets. Though she was, of course, surprised when he said he still loved her and that he didn't want her to leave, she was very pleased.
"I promise I'll be a good wife to you," she exclaimed with tears in her eyes. "You'll see, John, I'll be the best wife any man has ever had. I'll do anything in the whole wide world that you want me to do."
"Anything?" John had asked incredulously, in a somewhat mocking and sarcastic tone. "Do you really mean that you'll do anything I want?"
"Of course, my darling," she nodded.
It was late at night, in the second week in September, and a little rain was beginning to fall outside. It soon started coming down in buckets. They sky blazed with lightning and shouted with thunder. John ran to close the window. It was starting to rain in.
"Well," he said, returning to Selina, "You know it will be hard to forgive you for what you did to me two weeks ago."
"I know," Selina nodded. "But I'll make every effort to make it all up to you. You can treat me like a slave. You can do anything you want to me. If you want to whip me you may. You can tie me down, and strip me naked and lash my body with all your might ... I won't complain"
Secretly, Selina enjoyed this treatment. It stimulated her. It aroused her sexuality. It gave her pleasure. She therefore would not object if John were to punish her in this fashion.
John, who was sitting across from her, was dressed in a pair of black corduroy pants, and a white tee shirt Selina was adorned in a long, slithery pajama suit which clung tightly to the excitement of her voluptuous and sensual body.
John viewed her curiously, and with a certain amount of interest. In the old days, there would have been only one thing on his mind: fucking. He would have been interested in fondling her body and in making love to her. Now he stared at his wife with the impartiality of an alien. He looked at her the way a man looks at any animal. He was mildly interested in her. But only from an intellectual point of view. There was no lust in his eyes. There was no passion in his genitals.
"I expect you to comply with my every demand," he suddenly said. "If you intend to remain with me, and if you intend to live in my house and off my earnings, I expect total obedience. Before my unfortunate accident you had something to offer me. Now I am no longer interested in your body. I am only interested that you serve me well. You will treat me as your master. I will treat you as my slave, and I will do with you as it pleases me."
"Of course," Selina nodded. "I could expect no more."
She was a little afraid of him, but she had no other choice. He had the upper hand. She would have to bide her time. In the meanwhile, she would concede to his demands.
"Of course," she said, "Of course I will obey you. You are my master and I am your unworthy servant. You may treat me as you wish. I will not complain. I have no right to expect anything else. I am not deserving of better."
"Well," smiled John, an evil twist to his voice. "Now we have made a start. I think, my dear, with the passing of time, you will make a most excellent companion. With the proper training we can do wonders for you. With just a little time, who knows what can happen. I may even become potent again. Who knows?"
Suddenly his smile burst into a torrent of laughter. Soon Selina joined him and they were both laughing uncontrollably, violently.
"Now," said John, after the mirth had subsided, "We can get down to business. Being that you are my slave, I feel it is my duty to inspect you. I want to look you over to make sure that you are in perfect health. So please strip down, so that I may proceed."
"Is this really necessary," asked Selina. She was beginning to feel like a slab of meat, and this feeling annoyed and irritated her.
"Of course it's necessary," repeated John. "Anything I demand of you is necessary. After all, as your mate, I am only concerned with your well being. I wouldn't do anything that would do you any harm. You should know this by now. I only have your best interests at heart. So, if you will proceed, this thing can be finished as rapidly as possible."
"Alright," nodded Selina, somewhat reluctantly. "I'll strip naked and you can conduct your inspection. Please don't hurt me."
With these words, Selina began to unzip the back of her slinky pajama suit. She let the sensual outfit drop to the floor, and she stood naked before John's intense gaze, wearing only a pink half-bra and a pair of slithery black silk panties. They clung tightly to her buttocks and crotch, and John could see the triangle of crisp pubic hairs that stood out clearly against these transparent undergarments which Selina was wearing.
"You look just like a whore," John laughed, sliding his hand down the girls back and underneath her buttocks. He squeezed her softy, caressing the fleshy rump. At another time, this act might have inflamed him with passion. At another time, he might have been seduced by Selina's sensual body. But now he stood cold and indifferent. He might have been touching the rump of a cow or of a horse. It was all the same to him. Flesh was flesh. There was no sexual connotation which he derived from it. None whatsoever. Here merely stood, amused.
Slowly his hands undid the straps to Selina's brassiere. Then they fell across her breasts, stroking them delicately, even passionately. They were such soft, delightful breasts. Like the skin of a fawn. They glowed in the neon light radiantly. John was very pleased with them. They couldn't have pleased him more.
He slowly began to massage her pink nipples. He watched curiously as they stiffened and rose. They looked like round, luscious cherries. They looked so inviting, as though they wished to be eaten.
"I like your breasts," John said slowly. "Not many women have breasts like yours. You should be very proud of them;"
"I am," said Selina. "I am very proud of them. I like it when a man touches them, and massages them. It makes me feel warm and good on the inside. It makes me want to lie down and curl up on the rug."
"You're just like a bitch I once had," said John. "She loved it when I used to pet and stroke her. Do you like it when men pet you?"
"Yes," said Selina. It was the truth. There was no use denying it. She was, after all, a normal woman. And what woman doesn't like to be touched and embraced? What woman isn't excited by the exhilarating friction of a man's hand as it runs across her naked body?
"Yes," Selina repeated once again. "I like to be petted. I like the sexual stimulation it brings me. After all, I'm normal. My appetite for sex is natural and healthy, just like any other normal, red-blooded girl. It's only normal for a woman to get the hots for a man's cock."
"Of course," agreed John. "Of course, my dear. There's no need for you to get defensive about the matter. I know that all women like to fuck. I know that it gives them pleasure to put a man's cock in the cunts. I know all that So, you see, you needn't explain yourself to me."
John then proceeded with his inspection of Selina, ripping off her sheer black panties. Now she stood naked in front of him, her flesh trembling in fear.
What will he do to me now, Selina wondered, as John began to pinch and squeeze her unfettered, and yielding body. She offered him no resistance. She merely closed her eyes and winced, as John's hands wandered across her nakedness.
He made her sit down on the bed, and spread her legs obscenely, so that her delicious genitalia were exposed to his insistent gaze. Her vagina was raw red, and just a little bit wet with libidinal sweat. It was a most tempting dish, a meal for a gourmet. Under normal circumstances John would have fallen to his knees, just like a dog, licking up his wife's juicy, red pubis.
But now he merely stared at it indifferently. It made no impression upon him. It was merely an object of curiosity. What did men find so pleasing about the sticky wet cavern which was the basis for a woman's sexuality? What could be so exciting about her red clitoris, or the warm, flesh-like labia which was around the entrance to the vagina? John couldn't understand it. Is this pussy the thing that drives men wild. Is this hair covered orifice the cause for all the madness which surrounds the relationship between male and female? If it was, then John couldn't understand it Viewed from a truly objective viewpoint, the female's genitalia are less than extraordinary, and yet ...
"And yet" John started saying out loud, "If a man were to look at your body the way I'm looking at it now, he would be driven absolutely mad. He would be driven out of his mind. I simply cannot understand it at all. Not at all ..."
John then went to the closet and got out a camera.
"You're not going to take pictures of me like this," said Selina indignantly. She closed her legs, so that John could no longer glimpse her vagina, and her hands were upon her breasts, covering her hippies protectively. She was like a woman who had just discovered that she was being watched by a peeping torn. She was desperately trying to cover her nakedness.
"Well," she asked again of John, who had just completed clicking his first photo.
"You're not going to take pictures of me like this?"
"Uh-huh." nodded John. "I am. I think they'll be kind of good for a giggle. Do you realize that when someone asks me what my wife looks like, I haven't a single photo to show them. It's about time things changed. After all, you've got a lot to show. And I am sure that they'll be very interested in seeing it all. So if you don't mind, please spread so I can take a decent shot of your pussy."
Selina complied. What else could she do? She saw no way out of her terrible plight. She would have to take the madman's orders. At least until something else turned up.
John was appreciative of her obedience. He took a whole slew of pictures, photographing Selina from a dozen different angles, and a dozen different poses. He took shots of her fingering herself. He took a shot of her masturbating. He took one of her sitting on the toilet bowl, wiping herself.
He made her put on a dress, then, ordering her to lift it he took an erotic shot of her pussy. All counted, he took two dozen shots of her, in the most contorted positions he could imagine.
"This is the last one," he said to Selina who was running out of patience. "I promise this will be the last one."
After saying this, John opened up his zipper and pulled out his cock. It was a shadow of its former self. It was small and all shriveled up, like a tiny worm.
"Look at it," said John, "Remember when it was big as a tree. I recall a time when all I had to do was touch your tit and my cock would erect Just looking at you would give me a boner."
"But now," he said with a sigh, "Now, there's nothing."
John began to undress, removing his pants, jockey shorts, and tee shirt. Selina looked at his naked body. Everything was still the same. He was still hard and muscular. Then she looked down at his crotch. She looked at his genitals. The sac from which his testicles once hung, was now empty. She had done this. She had disemboweled him. She had castrated him. She was the one who had created this eunuch.
She watched as he walked across the room, and cocked the shutter to the camera, putting it on automatic. He then returned where Selina was standing.
"Come over here," he ordered. "I want you to kiss my cock."
"You're not going to take a picture of that!?" she asked with disbelief in her voice. "Surely you won't take a picture of that"
"You're goddamn right, that I will," he roared, "So get the hell over here and kiss my cock."
She obeyed. The shutter clicked. The picture was now recorded for all posterity.
"Just one more," he said, resetting the camera.
"But," protested Selina, "You said that that one would be the last."
"Well," he replied, "I was mistaken. I have just one more picture to take."
"Please," she pleaded. "Can't we do it some other time. I've had it up to here with taking pictures. I want to go to sleep."
"I'm sorry, honey," he intoned. "But I've gotta take just one more. I promise that this one will be the last alright?"
"Well," Selina said reluctantly. "I guess you can take one more picture of me, if you promise that it'll be the last one."
The truth of the matter was that Selina was thrilled at the idea of being photographed naked. Like most healthy young women, she was an exhibitionist. She was sexually stimulated when men looked at her lustfully. She had often left the window shades to her bedroom open, so that old mister Barton, a lawyer who lived next door, could watch her as she did her morning exercises. Once, while Barton was watching her, Selina had masturbated with her fingers. She didn't mind that he was looking. It only heightened her pleasure. It only made the physical act of auto-erotic stimulation more titillating.
The pictures that John was taking had the same effect on her. She secretly wished that he would show those pictures to his friends. She secretly wished that the whole world could gaze upon her nudity. That would be the greatest thrill of all. That would be the greatest pleasure in the world.
She imagined her picture appearing in the centerfold of a magazine like playboy. Selina knew what men who bought those pornographic magazines did. When they went home they would lock their doors, and draw their blinds. Then while staring at the titillating photograph they would manipulate their genitals. With nimble fingers they manipulated their genitals. All the time they kept looking at the girl in the picture and dreaming about her.
Selina was thrilled by the thought. Her vagina was becoming wet with pussy juice. She was sexually stimulated. She was erotically aroused. The sweetest thing in the world would be to be desired by every man. How good it would be to have all the men in the universe stare at her with lust. It would be as good as an orgasm.
"Cut the daydream," John suddenly said, interrupting Selina's secret thoughts. "We've got one last shot."
With the camera on the bureau, across the room, set to take a picture automatically, John took a basin from the bathroom, and pissed into it.
"Now drink it up," he ordered, as the hot yellow urine came flowing from his penis. "Drink from the fount."
Selina braced herself. Her back tightened. She didn't want to do this perverted act. But she had to. She had to comply with John's crazy demands. She got down on her knees, shuddering. The flesh on her voluptuous body was quaking with anger. She opened her mouth, and closed her eyes. She was trembling as the first yellow squirt of John's urine came barreling into her mouth.
"Smile," he said. "You're on candid camera."