I was not an admirer of James Milburn. Unlike every other woman in the firm, I was not charmed by his good looks and his admittedly fabulous body. He was my boss and a partner in the firm of O'Toole and Milburn, started by John O'Toole and his father thirty-odd years ago. It is a highly respected Sydney firm of solicitors specialising in large financial transactions and when I was appointed four years ago, straight out of Sydney University, I was extremely gratified.
I worked hard and rose to be James' number two. He was in charge of the Overseas Department and he was pretty good at it, I have to admit that. In fact, he was pretty good at everything he did. He was a fanatic about squash and worked out in the gym to keep his body strong and fit. He had all sorts of squash trophies in his office. He was also a good speaker and had a ready wit. He was popular with everyone....
My lack of admiration for him stemmed from his incredible superiority complex. He had a perfectly unbelievable opinion of his own abilities and none more than that with women. Most women were taken in by his charm and his good looks. He certainly had them. Tall and very athletic, handsome in a matinee idol way with perfect, tanned skin, curly straw-blond hair, brilliant blue eyes and a ready smile, he certainly gave the appearance of debonair charm. Alas, it was all skin-deep.
He had had every single woman in the office into his bed, be they lawyer or secretary. Every one of them had imagined she was going to be the one to win his hand — and every one was finally discarded. He picked them up, charmed the pants off them and enticed them to his apartment — and thence into his bed. Then, when he tired of them, they too joined the scrap heap of his discards.
The incredible thing was they didn't seem to resent it. They were heartbroken of course, as each had thought she was going to be the one. But after a while, they regained their equanimity and if they didn't exactly stare at him with adoring eyes any more, they seemed to accept his infidelity. It sickened me but I had to work with him on a daily basis and I therefore ensured I maintained a pleasant smile at all times.
He never let up in trying to get me. He seemed to feel I was a mountain he had to climb and my polite refusals only made him try harder. I wasn't having any though. I remained polite and businesslike but I wasn't going out with him and that was that. The other girls thought I was mad. Let them, I thought. I wasn't going to be picked up, wined and dined, invited into his penthouse unit to be made love to — and then dropped like a hot potato when he had finished with me.
And so he raped me. Oh he didn't mean to. That wasn't his way. It just sort of happened, I think. He had asked me to stay back to finish a particularly important and complicated deal and I was happy to comply. I didn't for one moment suspect he had other motives. We finished our work at around eight and he asked me to have dinner with him. I refused as always and he got a little testy.
"Thank you, James. But I have things to do at home," I said.
He wanted to know what things and I said,
"... just things...."
"That's not good enough, Penny. I want to take you out to thank you for your work tonight...."
"It's not necessary, James. Now, I must be off...."
It was then he got angry and pulled me close to him, kissing me hard. Perhaps foolishly, I slapped his face — and that made him really cross. He ripped my suit coat off and tore open my blouse, feeling inside for my breasts. Like him, I love sports. I was into horse-riding in a big way and that really kept me fit and supple.
My body in fact is every bit as athletic as his in a feminine way but I still have bumps and curves in the right places. My breasts therefore are full without being too big. He grabbed them now and mauled them with his big hands while I screamed out at him to let me go.
He totally ignored me and now got my skirt off and tore my slip. My panties came next and then he had me on the floor, his thing inside me, raping me as hard as he could. I had read some of the advice of the experts on this subject and lay there without fighting him. I knew that would only make it worse. He raped me three times, keeping me down on the floor between each of his filthy ejaculations but then, when he couldn't get it up again he got up and dressed himself then walked out of the office.
I was shaking horribly now. It had been a dreadful experience. It had lasted an hour or more and I was really shaking as I grabbed the phone and called Jane, my sister whom I live with in our parents home and who runs a medical practice from there.
"Stay just as you are, Penny," she said. "I'll be there in half an hour."
That's how long it takes to drive from Neutral Bay on the other side of the Harbour, around to and over the Bridge and into the city proper. I didn't take her advice though. I went to the executive washroom and cleaned myself up as best I could and then dressed myself.
When she arrived, she was all sympathy but asked why I hadn't stayed as I was.
"I wanted to do an examination immediately then take you down to Police Headquarters just as you are. That way, we have a much better chance of conviction...."
"I'm not going to report him, Jane," I said slowly.
She stared at me in amazement,
"Not going to...? Don't be silly, Penny. Of course you are. I know rape convictions are difficult but this is surely an open and shut case?"
"Not it's not. Rape requires not only evidence of penetration — in this case, easy enough to prove; but also lack of consent. He will merely say I agreed to make love with him and then changed my mind. He will show that he has a hundred female admirers, all of whom dote on him...."
"Then what are you going to do?"
She eyed me carefully. Jane is six years older than my twenty-seven years. She is a very successful medical practitioner, operating her practice from the lovely old sandstone house our parents left us and which we still live in together. We know one another very well and she knew I was not one to merely lie down and take what that animal had dished out.
"Nothing," I said. "Not for now. Nothing at all. Oh he will pay, Jane. He will most certainly pay, but not for some time. I am going to make some preparations — if you agree that is.... I am going to clean out our cellar and turn it into a little prison for our fine Mr James Milburn. And there I am going to do things to him I think you don't want to know about."
"But you will be caught...."
"No I won't. He is going to disappear one night. And he will never be seen again. I, or rather we, if you agree, are going to do things to him that are as unspeakable as that he did to me. Do you know he didn't even say anything when he left me. He simply got up off me, dressed and walked out of the office. Didn't even give me a backward glance. The swine thinks he is off scot-free, no doubt."
Now her face changed from one of concern for me and worry about what I was proposing, to a wide grin that told me she accepted it.
"What sort of things?" she asked.
Her eyes were bright now.
"Oh, I haven't worked out the details. We will strip him naked — forcefully, like he stripped me. Tear up his fine clothes, put him in that little barred room Dad used for his wine. I thought we might castrate him, beat him regularly, whip him perhaps.... I just want him to suffer."
"And suffer he will. With my expertise, we can make him feel horrible pain without it even showing on that fine body of his."
"You will help?"
"Of course. No man rapes my sister and gets away with it."
I was ecstatic. Jane was not only a terrific doctor, she was also a mechanic par excellence. Even from her earliest childhood she had delighted in tinkering with things mechanical. She could strip an engine down, turn new parts for it and have it back together again in no time flat.
Part of our extensive cellars was now devoted to her workshop in which she had some of the best backyard machines money could buy including a turner's lathe, drill and even a small forge. I knew her agile mind would soon be working on devices that would have James screaming in agony....
For I was determined he was going to pay, over and over, for what he did to me. Pay far in excess of his hurt to me. He was indeed going to disappear — in time. But not for six months at least. And in that time, I would be preparing. So, I was now sure, would Jane be.
I went to work the next morning and I didn't batt an eyelid. I greeted James as I always did and didn't, in any way, shape or form even give a hint of the rage I felt towards him. Not to him and not to anyone in the firm. Everything went on just as usual and if it took a super-human effort to maintain my equanimity with him, I did it.
At home though, all Jane's and my efforts were now devoted to preparing for our 'guest'. I cleaned out the cellars and began to acquire the equipment I would be using on his body. Jane spent all her spare hours at her lathe and her other machines. She wouldn't tell me what it was she was making. All I knew was she was using bits of an old bike we had stored down in the cellar. That and other items she brought in but wouldn't show me.
When she unveiled it at last, I chortled,
"He's not going to like that one bit, Jane," I said, congratulating her on the machine.
It fairly gleamed. She had learned the process of anodising and chrome-plating metal and it shone with bright new chrome and metallic enamel. She demonstrated how it worked, engaging the various components one by one while I marvelled at her ingenuity and skill.
"And now I start on another idea," she said.
She spread the sheet back over her 'bike,' as she called it,
"You mentioned castrating him — and we will; but not before we give him weeks of intense pain in his genitals.... By the way, what did you mean by castrating?"
I looked at her in perplexity. Everyone knew what 'castration' was — didn't they?
"Cut off his balls — isn't that what you do?"
"Yes. That's usually what it means. But what about his cock — the thing he used to rape you? Without his balls, he won't be able to beget children but he will still be able to rape...."
"But I thought...?"
"You thought he wouldn't be able to get it up without his testicles?"
"Not so. In nine cases out of ten, he will. So why don't we cut off his cock as well?"
"You can do this? But how will he wee?" I asked.
"Easy. I will leave a little hole down between his legs. He'll have to sit down, like us, or risk wetting his thighs, but so what?"
"You mean he'll be quite smooth down there; his lower belly quite flat?"
"Totally smooth and flat," she assured me.
She went on to explain how the human penis begins inside his body — stands to reason when you think about it; how else would he be able to keep an erection pointing straight up — it had to be anchored right inside his body.
"When I take it off, I will do so from its root, right inside his belly. I'll research the procedure so that when he heals over, you won't even know he ever had male genitalia at all."
"Great," I breathed.
I was really excited now.
"But to get back to my other idea, had you thought of boiling his cock and balls?"
Again I stared at her,
"Boiling them? How? In what?"
"Ah, that's the nub of it. I am experimenting with a glass beaker. You remember those things we used in chemistry at school?"
"Yes, well they can be heated directly, as with a Bunsen burner. The glass is a sort of Pyrex that can take direct heat. The problem is how to get his genitals into the thing properly and that's what I am experimenting with. I have already made a few prototypes — here, take a look."
She showed me some large beakers which she had modified to allow an opening in the side.
"The real problem is not making the opening; I can do that fairly easily. It's to provide for a seal around the root of his genitals once we get them into the thing."
"What about a rubber grommet of some sort," I asked.
"Yes, that's what I am looking at now. I have no doubt I'll be able to come up with an answer, it might just take a few days."
In the meantime I continued on with my cleaning up. The cellars under our house were extensive. In fact they covered most of the ground floor area of the large house. It had been built in the late eighteen hundreds and sat in a large block overlooking Sydney Harbour. Our father had been a stockbroker and had made quite a pile.
He had bought the place when we were both very young and we had lived in it all our lives. Over the years a lot of junk had accumulated in the cellars and it took me weeks to clear it out and turn the various rooms into our 'home away from home' for Master James Milburn.
I started of course with his cell. This was ready-made for us fortunately in the shape of Dad's wine cellar. Most of the wines were gone now since neither Jane nor I were that interested in wines, and we had not kept it up. The few bottles that remained could easily be stored elsewhere.
What I was left with was a plain room, paved with flagstones as was the rest of the cellar floor but without other adornment. It was in a corner of one room of the cellars and its two inside walls were made of iron bars, just like the cells in sheriff's offices in western movies. It was perfect for our purpose.
Having emptied and cleaned out the cell, I next started on the room of which it was a part. That contained old timber as well as accumulated junk. It took quite a while but I got it finished at last then moved on to other rooms, many of which we would be using for various purposes.
Jane's 'bike' however, was installed in the cell room. It was going to stand right outside his cell so he could look on it in fear — for he was going to come to fear that machine more than he could imagine. He would be using it every day, just like one of those stationary bikes people use for exercise. He would be exercising on it alright — and how!
It wasn't at all difficult to kidnap him. Jane armed herself with an automatic syringe. One of those things that releases automatically as soon as it is pushed against the flesh. The spring-loaded needle darts forward and then the plunger moves down, injecting a measured dose of what you want into the flesh of the 'victim'. In this case she filled it with a knock-out drug of some sort — she's the doctor, not me, and we waited in a place we knew he would be passing.
I had made a careful study of James' habits since he raped me and I knew every Friday night he went down to this bar in Redfern, a suburb near the southern boundary of the city's CBD. It was low dive and featured scantily-clad women doing very erotic dances on the bar and on the catwalk that led from the bar-top to various places in the smelly room. He had a habit of going there for the early part of the evening after which he moved to more salubrious venues and usually picked up a girl to take home for the night or the weekend.
It was perfect for us because the car-park was dark and there was no watch kept on it. All we had to do was wait until the parking space next to his Jaguar became vacant and move the inconspicuous van we hired into it, then wait and watch. As he moved up to the driver's door of his Jag, Jane came up behind him silently and shoved the syringe through his pants into his buttock. He dropped to his knees very quickly, his eyes glazed over and already unconscious. I had the side door of the van open and we manhandled him into it without anyone seeing anything.
We had him back home within the hour. My car was already outside the garage and so Jane drove it straight in after which we closed the electrically operated door then got James out and down into the cell. The van could stay in the garage that night and I would return it to the dealer the next morning.
We locked the cell door, leaving James lying on the bare stone floor. He was dressed in the same clothes he had gone to the bar in: smart silk shirt and casual trousers. We didn't cuff or tie him up and neither did we gag him. Jane and I had tested the cellar for sound and even when I screamed at the top of my voice, she couldn't hear a thing from anywhere around the house.
Added to that, our gardens are covered in fairly dense shrubs and they are large, covering two normal size blocks. No-one would hear him if he screamed when he woke up. We turned out the lights, leaving him in utter blackness. He was going to be one very worried son of a gun when he did come out of it and Jane assured me he was going to be feeling quite sick from the drug as well.
The next morning, Saturday, when we ventured down into the cellars he was standing at the bars of his cell since he had heard the key in the lock of the cellar room turn.
"Hello, rapist," I said to him, smiling broadly at his dishevelled state and shocked expression as he recognised me.
"Penny!" he snorted. "What the hell is going on? Get me out of here, will you?"
Clearly my term of address for him hadn't sunk in,
"I don't think so, RAPIST," I said, enunciating this last word very clearly.
Now it sunk in.
"You have kidnapped me," he said slowly. Then, "what are you going to do to me?"
"Why, lover-boy, we are going to punish you. You are going to pay, over and over for raping me, you filthy swine."
"Penny, please. It was all a mistake. I didn't mean to...."
"You didn't even say sorry, you filth. Not a word of apology in all these seven months. And so you pay now, slime."
He tried everything. Begging, threats, more pleading. I wasn't interested. Neither was Jane. She had stood beside me, staring in at this man who had raped her younger sister. Hate was very apparent in her clear grey eyes and in the way she tossed her head, sending her fine silvery hair tossing about her head.
"First you strip, scumbag," she said softly.
"I will not!" he said flatly.
Jane and I smiled. We had expected no less. I went over to the nearby wall and unwound a small hose that was attached to a tap there. This was a hot water tap. I turned it on and flicked the little valve on the end of the hose a few times, aiming it at the floor (whence it ran down to a drain hole to the sump) until it ran hot and the steam could be seen coming from it.
"Ever been scalded, James?" I said softly.
I was moving the thin jet of very hot water slowly in his direction. He watched it in fascinated horror for a few moments then undid the buttons of his pants, kicked off his expensive shoes and reluctantly removed each item of his clothes.
"Pass them out here, scum," I said.
I was pointing the nozzle of the hose at him, ready to flick the lever if he refused. He didn't. Being burned with a hot liquid is a pretty horrible experience. He obviously knew it and didn't want to try it out. As he took off each item he passed it out to Jane who quite ostentatiously tore it to shreds. When he was down to his underpants he stopped.
Again I was pointing the hose nozzle down at his groin. He gave a little cry of fear and quickly dropped his daks to stand up totally naked and, for the first time, I imagine, ashamed at his nakedness. He actually covered his large genitals with his hands and blushed a deep red. We stood outside the bars and grinned at his discomfiture.
"Since you like to show off your body to girls so much, we thought you shouldn't lose any opportunity to do so.... You can stay that way from now on."
"But its cold," he said.
"Well do some exercises. Show us those muscles you're so proud of."
He snorted and so I raised the hose again, thumbed the lever and sent a jet of hot water at his cock and balls,
"Aaaaggghhhhheeeggghhhaaaggghhh," he screamed.
And jumped around quite comically for a few seconds.
"Now pose, scum. Show us your muscles — and keep doing it until I say you may stop."
He now rushed to obey, flexing his arms up into the classic pose and rippling his other muscles as well. For all my hatred of him, I have to admit I was turned on by his body. This was the first time I had seen him naked and he certainly had a body to be proud of. Slender but so athletic. Skin as smooth as the proverbial peaches and cream and handsome to boot. It was a pity he was such a rat with looks like that.
I made him keep it up for half an hour and both Jane and I enjoyed the sight of his biceps forming into the hard high-peaked balls that are so erotically stimulating and then relaxing as he straightened his arms; or his thighs bunching and cording as he flexed his quadriceps muscles.... I'm sure you get the picture.
When we were satisfied with his performance, I indicated he might stop,
"And now we leave you, boy. As you wait for out next visit, think on your rape of me ... think of all the girls you used until you were tired of them — and then discarded."
We turned and walked to the door and smiled at the horror on his face as we flicked off the light and closed and locked the door, leaving him in utter blackness — naked, imprisoned and alone.
Upstairs, we sipped our tea,
"Good God, Penny, you didn't tell me he was so handsome or had such a fabulous body?"
"Don't tell you're smitten by him too?" I accused her.
She smiled back grimly,
"He has got a body to write home about but no, I'm not smitten. He'll pay — in full measure for what he did to you."
She paused a moment then went on,
"When are we going to unveil my bike?"
"I thought we'd wait a few days. Make him suffer the cold and feel the misery of the dark and the loneliness for a week or so first. What d'you think?"
"Good idea. Then we might unveil the machine and leave one small light focused on it for another week. We won't tell him what it is or how it's going to be used on him, eh?"
"Better still. And then once we do begin to use it, we will make him work on it for long hours at a time. It's automatic so he will not be able to slack when we're not here to watch him work...."
Jane grinned at me,
"I really loved making it you know. Every minute was a pleasure as I thought of how it's going to make him suffer. By the way, did I show you how I solved the problem with the beaker?"
She had, but I pretended she hadn't and she went on,
"I made the seal from a soft rubber compound that will nestle into to the root of his organs, moulding itself to their shape and very effectively sealing in the water in the beaker...."
I asked her a question that had been bothering me for a while,
"If we actually boil his genitals in that beaker, won't they sort of cook and turn into a stew or something?"
"They would if we actually kept boiling them. What we're going to do though, is to heat the water until it just starts to boil and then turn off the gas, leaving his cock and balls in there. He will be in agony but his genitals will remain intact. They'll be excruciatingly tender for quite a few days afterwards though."
"How long before we can boil them again?"
"Oh, about a week, I imagine. Just think. We boil them, wait until they are nearly normal again then tell him we're going to boil them again. Can you imagine his face?"
We both cackled with mirth at what we saw in our mind's eye but then I sobered up,
"And when will you perform the operation on him?"
"That's up to you. I suggest we wait and see how he stand up to the bike and the boiling of his genitals. A month or two, perhaps?"
"Sounds good to me. And when we're finished with him?"
"Penny, there's no way we can ever let him go.... You must have known that?"
I hadn't properly considered this aspect but I didn't want to admit it to her,
"I suppose so. How will we do it then?"
"Oh, there are hundreds of ways. Anything from a lethal injection to a cord around his neck to crucifixion...."
I went about my business then. I had to do the shopping while Jane saw to our lunch and did her part of the housework. We still did our own which was just as well as we didn't want any nosy cleaning lady poking down into the cellar while we were out.
As I walked up and down the supermarket aisles, I thought of James' ultimate fate. I hadn't really thought it through to this stage which was unlike me. Normally I am very methodical in the things I do but I suppose in my rage at James, I only thought as far as my revenge. I had to admit Jane was right of course.
Having kidnapped him, stripped and tortured him and then castrated him, it was obvious we couldn't then just let him go. I grinned to myself as I thought of what the papers would make of his story. But then I wondered. Would he really want to report it?
The shame that would come his way as a eunuch and as a man-about-town who had allowed himself to be kidnapped by two mere females and then held for months while they punished him for rape, would be more than he could bear, I was sure. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to kill him after all. I didn't say anything to Jane on this subject though. There was plenty of time.
We fed him a bland mush that had all the healthy ingredients necessary for his wellbeing but lacked taste and texture. We cooked the vegetables and meat in quantity then pureed it in the vitamiser and divided it into meal-size lots and froze them.
It was a simple matter then to heat one in the microwave, wait until it had gone cold, put it into the dog bowl we made him feed from and slide it into his cell. We always stood by with the hot water hose to make sure he fed from it on his hands and knees and that he didn't use his hands.
"Get those knees wide, scum," I said as I watched him eating the tasteless, greyish mess ravenously. "I want to see your cock and balls swinging freely between your buttocks...."
He sobbed once. He wasn't used to his captivity yet, by any means and still felt shame at his nakedness and at the way we made him eat but having once tested the scalding temperature of the water jet in my hand, he wasn't about to try it again. He quickly opened his legs wide giving me an uninterrupted view of his dangling genitals.
For his wastes, we provided a can. It had once been a five gallon container of floor-wax which I had begged from the janitor at work. Jane had then adapted it for out purpose. She had taken her tin-snips and cut a pattern of saw-tooth points around the rim. He would not be able to sit down on the thing but had to squat over it.
We only gave it in to him in the morning and evening and we stayed to watch him perform — yet another humiliation for him. We didn't provide toilet paper either. He had to use his hand and then wipe it on his body which we then hosed down. There was a cold tap next to the hot one that also led into the hose and we could mix them if we wished. For his 'showers' we used only cold water and in Sydney in winter, this was very cold.
By Monday morning, James was already well on his way to his ruin. All Saturday and Sunday we had left him in stygian blackness except for feeding him the mush night and morning and seeing to his waste disposal and his 'shower'. He had of course pleaded with us to let him go, promising never to hoodwink a girl again and to make amends to me for his rape of my body. We just smiled back at him, not even deigning to reply to his blandishments.
We went down early on Monday and stood staring in at the naked cowering wreck that had been the proud and arrogant James Milburn,
"It's Monday, isn't it?" he said. "You'll let me go now. The office ... " he said lamely.
I think he already knew we had no intention of doing so, though.
"They're going to have to do without you, James," I said.
"But nothing. You're not indispensable, despite your own opinion of yourself."
He subsided then and went and sat down in the far corner of the cell. We left, turning off the light and of course locking the door. We knew we would have to be vigilant every moment we had him. I went in to the office by ferry, Jane went in to her surgery to begin the large volume of patients who would be presenting on Monday.
I was as surprised as everyone else at James' non-appearance that morning. The other partners asked us all what he had been doing over the weekend but we all shrugged our shoulders and said we had no idea. They checked his unit and the manager there said he hadn't been sighted since Friday morning.
It was a mystery to everyone — and it remained that way. Over the next days, the partners informed the police but when they heard about his philandering ways they just shrugged and said he had probably taken off to avoid a vengeful woman. They little knew how close to the truth they were.
As the days and then the weeks passed, it became a dead issue. As his deputy, I moved in to take over his work in an acting capacity. I hadn't thought of this aspect of my little project but I suppose it was natural I would be chosen. I was competent — at least as much so as James; and I was there.
Each night, when I got home, I went down to see how he was. Each night he was a little worse. His face had become pallid and his body slack. Not much, but noticeably. He was still the handsome devil with the beautiful muscles and the matinee idol face but now it was careworn and haggard.
After a week of this, we were ready to proceed with the bike — but not before Jane had treated his body. Our main aim was to punish him and humiliating him was a large factor in that punishment. Jane had suggested that we depilate him — totally. At least from his nose down. I had been intrigued,
"You mean shave him?" I said.
"No, I mean depilate him. I have this electronic gadget that removes hairs
permanently. If we shaved his groin and his armpits, the hairs would grow
back, just as they do on his face.
xxxx"This gadget kills the hairs at the roots. Beauty parlours use them for ladies who sprout moustaches and other unwanted hairs. They are not usually used for large areas as we will be, but that's only because of the pain involved. I take it you don't mind him suffering?"
I assured her I had no problem with this at all but wondered what he would look like quite naked of his natural body hair.
"You've seen those store dummies without clothes on?"
"Just like that — and even more so when we finally cut off his cock and balls.
Now it was my turn to grin,
"Quite smooth? No hair at all?"
"What about his head? I don't think I'd like him bald...?"
"We'll leave that be then. But from his moustache down, we'll take off the lot and we won't stop until it's all gone. He'll be screaming in agony by then...."
"Good," I said unfeelingly. "I hope while we do it, he thinks of my pain as he raped me."
To make sure he didn't try to run when we unlocked his cell, we took a number of precautions. First we locked the door leading up to the ground floor. This would ensure that if he did get free of us, he wouldn't be going far.
Next we made sure one of us was armed and kept him in clear sight while the other cuffed him. We were extremely vigilant while he was out of his cell and we both demonstrated that we knew how to use the gun. We took him along to the little room we would use for certain of our 'activities' with him. In it, Jane had constructed a frame consisting of two six inch by six inch timbers that ran from floor to ceiling and were securely fixed to them.
They were set twelve feet apart and had pulleys fixed to the tops and at other points down them as well. Ropes were reeved through each of these and on the ends of the ropes, leather manacles of an appropriate size had been affixed.
I held the gun on him while Jane secured his wrists in the manacles from the two top pulleys and then buckled the larger ones from half way up the posts to his thighs, just above his knees.
Once he was secure, she pulled on one, then the other of the two top ropes
until his arms were pulled up high above his head. Then we both moved to the
other two ropes and pulled on them together, hoisting his thighs up and out
towards the posts until they were horizontal, his legs dangling freely below
He had protested of course during all of this. We had ignored him entirely. I jabbed the gun in his back as he walked towards the cell and into his belly while Jane fixed him into the frame. Once he was hanging there we stepped back.
"Let me down," he pleaded. "It hurts...."
"It's going to hurt a lot more when I've finished with you, scumbag," said Jane, witheringly.
He stared at her in despair. By now he had to hate us both but his hate was tempered by his exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion for he hadn't done anything for the last week. The mental exhaustion was acute however.
Seven days of nakedness; of cold and of terror at what we were doing to him
— and might do, had already got him to a stage of near panic. Now as he hung
there, his arms stretched high and wide and his thighs pulled painfully wide
open, exposing his genitals to us perfectly, he knew something horrible was
going to happen to him. What it was, he had no idea. He was about to find out.
Jane went over to the small cupboard that contained her machine, took it out and plugged it into the electrical outlet on the wall then walked back to stand in front of him. His beard was by now a week old and was quite apparent.
The gadget comprised a base unit and two pairs of tweezers that plugged into it. She showed me how to apply the tweezers to a few hairs, press them together, which act activated the unit, and then pull the offending hairs out.
"They come out quite easily," she explained. "The electricity kills the hair instantly and the roots just let go. Try it."
I took the other pair of tweezers and began on the other side of his face. Of course he resisted, turning his head from side to side to try to escape our little tweezers. Jane smiled, put down her unit and went back to the cupboard, taking out another gadget that looked like a torch — but wasn't. she marched back, pressing the switch on the side as she approached us. Then she pushed the end of it into his balls.
His reaction had me mystified. His face — all of his body, went absolutely rigid — every muscle straining. His eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head and sweat immediately beaded on his skin. He also tried to scream but whatever it was she was doing to him paralysed his voice-box and while his mouth was open, nothing came out except a sort of strangled whisper.
She held it there for a few seconds and then took it away. Immediately, his body relaxed and he hung there quite limply. She showed me the thing,
"It's called a cattle prodder. Farmers use them to goad recalcitrant beasts along the way. They make them jump alright. Applied to a man's genitals, they pack a hefty wallop. You watch, I'll bet he doesn't resist us any more now...."
She was right. As we again approached with the tweezers, he stayed quite still, his eyes watching us warily but not otherwise moving. We proceeded on and I was surprised how quickly we were able to cover quite large areas.
It didn't hurt him much — at first. But then, as we worked on and more and more of his beard disappeared, he began to moan. Jane just smiled and worked even faster. His moans got louder but she told him to "shut up" and reached for the prodder. He did — and quickly.
When his face was once more smooth, we moved to his armpits and then, when they were naked of hair, to the few fine hairs on his chest and belly. After that, we began on his groin. Here the hairs were darker and tougher and now he really squirmed as tuft after tuft was yanked out.
By now there was a thin carpet of his body hairs on the stone floor around
him. He was in a lot of pain now and his face haggard. His eyes moved from us
to the diabolical prodder on the little table beside us. He wanted desperately
to moan and groan but Jane had told him he would be zapped if he did. What a
His thighs had only a thin down of baby-fluff and we ignored that. His legs had a few hairs and they soon went the way of the rest. He was now naked of all hair below his nose and I marvelled at his appearance. He looked absolutely stupendous.
Now I understood the real reason Jane had wanted to do this. With his natural hair he looked good, his muscles fine and sleek. Without them, he looked magnificent, every muscle clean and clear....
As for his genitals. Phew! They poked out prominently now they were no longer
partially hidden by his pubic hair. I went up and ran my hands all over his
sleek body, delighting in its new smooth texture while James stared down at
me in resignation — but also in humiliation that he was being handled like a
beast at auction. It was a delight, both to feel his beautiful muscles; but
also to see the shame in his eyes.
We put him back in his cell and again left him in total darkness for the rest of that day. The next, Sunday, was going to be his initiation into the delights of Jane's bike. I haven't described this in detail yet. It was a mechanical marvel and I was very proud of my sister for her genius in designing and building it.
She had taken a real bike and adapted it. First she removed the front wheel
altogether and the tyre from the rear wheel. She replaced the tyre with a rubber
thong that she tied around the rim of the wheel leaving about a foot hanging
free. Its precise length would be determined by experimentation after we had
tried it out on him. She also removed the saddle from the tube that supported
it; in its place attaching a gadget she had made.
This device was a lever arrangement bolted to the top of the tube at its fulcrum in its centre. A crank shaft from the driving pedals was attached to this lever near its fulcrum. As the pedals were turned, one end of the lever went up, the other down.
The rear end of the lever had a screwed shaft pointing up to which could be attached dildos of various lengths and widths. The front end had a little hook to which was attached a small metal handcuff on a chain.
When the dildo was inserted in his ass and the cuff attached to the root of his cock and balls, each revolution of the pedals would force the dildo up and down — in and out of his anus; while the cuff would be tugged downwards, straining his balls wonderfully before it moved back up again.
But that wasn't all. With the saddle removed, his only support was his feet on the pedals — if you discount the dildo up his ass. There was another, but I'll leave that for the moment. His buttocks were therefore quite openly exposed to the rubber thong that was attached to the rear wheel. As it revolved, the thong moved out and its tip attacked his buttocks.
Wonderful, don't you think? The bike was bolted to a frame she had made for it and this in turn was bolted to the stone floor.
There's more, though. The pedals also drove a small generator. It was attached to the rear wheel and had formerly been used to run the head and tail-light on the bike. With the tyre removed, she had had to adapt the driving wheel, replacing the knurled wheel with a rubber one and moving it so the rim of the wheel drove it satisfactorily.
It's only function was to keep a solenoid switch open. If the speed dropped below a preset minimum, the switch closed, activating another of her little gadgets. This was a shocker — literally. The dildo up his ass provided one electrode, the cuff around the root of his balls, the other. These were powered by a battery charger. Twelve volts is quite enough to give a most unpleasant shock without being lethal.
But still there was more. As it was, this was quite horrible but it would have left his hands free and Jane didn't like that idea. So she made another gadget from another bike she acquired. This dangled from the ceiling above the other bike. It consisted only of that part of the frame that included the pedals and the rear wheel.
This time she left the tyre on the wheel and the little generator as it was originally designed. She changed only the pedals of this upper unit, replacing them with handles that could be easily grasped by the hands. She made this unit adjustable up and down so the victim's hands could easily reach the handles above his head without difficulty.
This unit worked exactly the same way as the one on the lower unit. He not only had to pedal with his feet but also turn the upper unit with his arms. If either unit slowed, the battery charger sent a jolt to his anus and his balls — and it kept sending it until he got up to speed again.
The upper unit was particularly horrible as it meant he had to keep his hands up above his head for the whole time it was switched on. Try it. Raise your hands up above your head. How long can you keep them there before they begin to ache? Not long, is it?
When we brought him back to his cell after depilating him, we whipped the covers off both these units. They had been hidden from him for the last week; now he could stare at them and wonder what the hell they were. The bike frame was easily recognisable even with its modifications but the purpose of the shiny chromed dildo and the little cuff; and the rubber thong on the rear wheel would have mystified him.
So would the unit bolted to the roof above it. The electrical components would also have been a puzzle, I knew. He stared at it as we took off the sheets that had thus far hidden it and we both smiled as we noted the fear in his eyes. He might not have known what it was — he did know it wasn't going to be very nice for him.
We left him to stew over the bike for the whole of the next week. All day and all night a weak spot lamp was directed at it. He could stare at it and figure out where the dildo and the chromed cuff went; and what would happen to the rubber thong when the pedals were turned. He would have more difficulty with the battery charger and the two little generators attached to the two wheels but all would become clear — painfully clear on the next Saturday.
We observed the same precautions as we had when we depilated him. I held the gun on him while Jane drew him out of the cell and over to the bike. She had the prodder in her hand, cuffed to her wrist so he couldn't wrest it from her. He very reluctantly stepped up onto the box we provided beside the pedals and swung his other leg over the frame. Jane positioned him and then pushed the chrome dildo up into his anus — at which he screamed in outrage.
"Hey, I'm no pansy. Get that thing out of my asshole," he yelled.
And got a jab to his balls for his trouble. Now his scream was of sheer agony and after he had subsided from the rigours of that dreadful jolt, he put up with her pushing more and more of the dildo into his anus. When a good eight inches sat inside, Jane locked the adjusting screw. Now, no matter how high he tried to push himself up, the thing would remain inside his rectum.
Next, she locked the small cuff tightly around his cock and balls. His cock would soon erect from the constriction and that would add to his shame. Last she climbed up a step ladder and taking each hand in turn, locked them to the handles above his head. We were now ready to proceed.
Jane explained the whole thing to him,
"Your job will be to pedal, scumbag. Unfortunately, by pedalling, you will activate this rubber thong that will proceed to whip your miserable buttocks. If you don't pedal fast enough however, the battery charger here will send a nasty jolt to your ass and your balls — like so...."
And she turned on the battery charger power. As he wasn't pedalling, the two solenoid switches were both closed and the shock went straight to their destination. The shocks were not lethal as I said earlier but they hurt and he screamed as the twelve volts surged between the two very sensitive parts of his body — his anus and his testicles.
She turned the charger off,
"These two little generators have one function — to keep the switches that
will cause you to be shocked, turned off. As long as you pedal and turn the
handles above your head fast enough, both at the same time, you will only
have the rubber thong whipping your bottom.
xxxx"The thong is rubber. It will therefore wear out quite quickly — after an hour or so, anyway. After that, while your backside will still hurt, at least you will no longer feel any new lashes.
"Now, time for you to begin your exercising. Can't have your body going slack, can we...?"
She nodded to him to begin while her hand hovered over the switch that activated the charger. His face registered his horror. Already he understood how bad this was going to be. But his eyes were on her hand. The twelve volt charge may not have been dangerous but it still hurt and he didn't want a repeat.
He began to pedal and at the same tried to operate the handles above his head. This involved his mind working on two uncoordinated actions at the same time and until it became used to it, they were going to be hard to achieve and to maintain. He pedalled first, his eye on the two little voltmeters set up where the handlebars had once been.
Jane had marked the minimum she had set on the solenoids and he had to pedal and work his arms until both hands reached the mark.
I grinned as I watched his efforts. Ah, this was retribution indeed — maybe not divine but certainly satisfying. He would have reason to regret raping me.... I also derived considerable satisfaction from watching his body as he pedalled and worked the handle.
On the one hand, his muscular thighs were cording and swelling most erotically; and on the other, as he worked the handles above his head round and round, his biceps and shoulder muscles were also flexing just as erotically.
As he got the pedals up to speed, the rubber thong trailed around, then straightened out from the centrifugal force applied to it and then began to whip at his buttocks with its tip. Jane had judged perfectly the length required. We wanted to hurt James but not to damage him permanently.
The thong was very thin and in time it would cause him considerable pain before its tip wore away, but we didn't want it to do more than hurt. We wanted to be able to put him on this machine every morning for at least a few hours if not half the day and if the thong damaged his buttocks too much, this would be impossible.
Of course, we could always remove the thong entirely and let him feel only the dildo raping his ass and the testicle stretching as well as the agony of the unremitting toil, but it would be nice if we could whip him at the same time.
I thought this machine particularly appropriate as a punishment. He was being worked hard, he was being whipped and he was being raped while his balls were being stretched with every revolution of the pedals. A fitting reward for his actions towards me, I thought.
As he pedalled faster and faster, the dildo moved in his anus. Its travel was only about three inches so there was no fear of it popping out but it was quite enough that he would feel the pain of his rape.
The chromed surface of the dildo was provided so his anus would not be damaged but after a few minutes, he was going to feel a quite horrible pain down there — the same pain he gave me when he raped me.... At the same time, the other end of the little lever tugged down on the cuff around his balls. Not enough to tear them off but quite sufficient to make him feel it. After an hour or so, they would be very tender indeed.
We stayed and watched. We had decided to try him out on the machine on Saturday and Sunday, one of us being present at all times. Come Monday, we should know just how long he might be expected to last but just in case, Jane had rigged up a little warning light on her desk on the floor above. If he slowed down and the solenoid closed, the light would come on. She could then go down and switch the charger off.
He did remarkably well actually. He really was an athlete and his muscular and cardiovascular endurance were both well developed. He continued to pedal at the speed necessary to keep the solenoid open and to turn the handles also although his arms and shoulders must have been aching abominably.
The work level for his legs was much less and while his thighs gave a delightful picture to Jane and me, it was the handles above his head that gave him the most punishment. I must say too that I found the sight of his biceps muscles flexing to be quite wonderful. James had no attraction for me as a man or as a lover; nevertheless his body was quite superlative and I could admire it while having no attraction for the man inside.
He kept it up for well over two hours, only faltering once or twice during this time and feeling the shocks to his anus and balls. Of course his cock had erected pretty quickly. Jane had closed the cuff around it and the root of his balls fairly tightly and she had tickled the head of his penis to encourage its growth.
Once it had begun to erect there was no stopping it and soon it was gigantic, the erectile tissue straining the skin until it gleamed. The pressure of the blood whose escape was restricted by the cuff, was enough to make it swell much more than it had ever done before and it also coloured it a deep puce. It stood straight up his muscly belly and quivered from side to side as his legs moved the two pedals up and down.
By the time two hours was up though, Jane thought he had had enough. She whispered to me that we could extend his time as his body adjusted but two hours was probably the limit for now. She turned off the charger and undid the various constraints that held him in place then we lifted him off and threw him in his cell where he lay on the floor, looking up at us in resignation,
"You're going to put me on that every day, aren't you?" he asked.
"Darn tootin'," I said. "About time you learned to behave yourself, scumbag...."
He started crying then and I felt a strange pang as I stared down at his so forlorn body lying down there on the cold stones. I shook it off though and then Jane and I went up for coffee, leaving him in awful pain in his anus and balls and in his arm and shoulder muscles. We left the weak spotlight on the bike burning so he could look at the instrument of his correction and know he was going to suffer on it every day....
And suffer he did. Each day, before I left for work, we placed him on it. He would stay on it all day until I got home but he would work it only until Jane decided he had had enough. That time gradually increased as his muscles adjusted to the work until after a fortnight he was on it from eight in the morning until around twelve noon.
On the intervening Saturday and Sunday I went down to watch and to gloat over his punishment. And while I did so, he stared at me with a strange expression on his face. It was no longer hate. Resignation, yes, but also something else. Something I couldn't divine. Not then. Not for a long time.
I was still enraged with him. I really felt a great joy that he was at last being brought to book for all the hurt he had caused us ladies over the years. So far as I knew, he hadn't actually raped anyone before me but he had certainly caused a great deal of heartbreak as girl after girl was discarded for another.
After another month, we were ready to try the glass beaker on his genitals. This was Jane's pet project, even if she had spent all that time developing the bike. I thought the bike was sheer genius since it worked so much of his body at the same time while administering a most salutary corrective 'therapy' to him. Others might call it torture; I chose to think of it as punishment for his crime.
In the six weeks he had been placed on the bike, it had improved his body markedly. He had started out as a very athletic sportsman; now, his body really looked superb. The four or more hours a day he spent on that bike had toned his muscles to the nth degree and at the same time, sloughed off the slight layer of fat under his skin until his muscles were as sharp as a tack.
Of course his diet helped here, too. He was still fed the tasteless mush but it contained as exactly an ideal mix of protein, carbohydrate and fat as we could devise. The fact that it was all pureed into a dirt-coloured mush made no difference to the quality and mix of the food itself and that must have helped develop his body.
His muscles didn't get any bigger — they just became toned and supple and clean-cut. We also provided a set of weak ultra-violet lamps that played over his body for a half hour as he worked and this eventually gave him a delightful tan. Not too dark; just enough to make his skin more pleasing — a light honey-gold.
By this time too, he wasn't exhausted when his time on the bike was over. He was able to get off it and go straight back to his cell by himself. On the appointed day though, Jane ordered him out of his cell room and down the passage to the room where he had been suspended for his depilation.
He paused at the door, remembering the pain we had inflicted on him and, glancing down at his now so naked body, the shame of his total nudity — his totally hairless body which he still felt shame at, even if Jane and I thought it made him look quite superb.
He didn't pause for long though. By now we had no need of a gun to keep him under control. I too now wore a prodder attached to my wrist and just grabbing it was enough to make him cower in fear. He went into the room and straight over to the frame, even raising his arms up to be manacled into the restraints dangling on the chains. He was rapidly becoming a most docile slave....
Slave? The word had come into my head quite unbidden. I hadn't thought of him as a slave; only as a rapist and philanderer who needed punishing, but as the weeks had passed and I had sort of got used to having him in our cellar, I suppose the connotations of slavery must have been creeping into my mind. I smiled as I wondered what he thought of his present status. Once he was again suspended in the frame with his thighs out almost horizontal and his arms up and out, Jane moved the table she had prepared for today's event down in front of him. She went over to the small cupboard and fished out the bunsen burner with its small gas bottle, the tripod and the special beaker she had made. She set them up on the table adjusting its height so the aperture on the glass beaker was lined up with the root of his genitals.
He watched all this in puzzlement; I in amusement. He was soon going to feel
the worst pain of his life. Jane fitted the beaker around his cock and balls
and then sealed it tight. Now understanding began to filter through James' mind
and he started to struggle.
We had thought of this though and I now went for another thing Jane had made against this eventuality. It was an iron belt, sized and shaped to go around his waist. It was hinged at the front and lockable at the back. Poking out at either side were two iron bars with threads on their ends. These were designed to fit through holes Jane had drilled in the two wooden uprights.
I fitted the belt around his waist and locked it then, with Jane helping moved him sideways until I could get the right hand bar into its hole. Once it was in place, we pushed him the other way allowing the other bar to be inserted in the left hand upright. All we had to do now was spin the nuts on each rod and tighten them. He was now fixed totally immobile between the two uprights and the beaker rested on the tripod and his body was almost still.
Of course once he had realised what we were going to do to him, he had screamed with all his might. We ignored him. Our tests (now with a tape recorder turned up full down there and us checking everywhere around the house) had proved nobody could hear him and we were quite pleased at his screams actually.
When his screams abated at last he just hung there, his face resigned once more, but then he gave me (not Jane, just me) that very strange look again and I felt that funny prickle running through me.
Again I shrugged it off as Jane filled the beaker until his cock and his balls were covered. Then she lit the burner and placed it under the beaker. James stared down at it in dismay,
"How long are you going to heat it for?" he asked in a strangled whisper.
"Oh for ages," Jane said airily. "We'll bring your balls to the boil and then simmer them for an hour or so...."
Of course we had no such intentions but it wouldn't hurt to let him think we were going to boil his balls right away. The water heated quite rapidly. In ten minutes the beaker was too hot for me to touch and I could see the little bubbles forming on the inside of the glass. His cock was now red and his balls a bluish purple.
James was screaming again and his body was again trying to escape from its bonds, causing his magnificent muscles to writhe most erotically. I am ashamed to admit I creamed in my pants at the sight!
We didn't actually bring the water to the boil at all. Another minute and Jane turned off the gas. The water was still very hot and it would take a long time to cool. It would hurt him but not damage him. We left him there to contemplate his future while we went upstairs for tea.
"Penny, I don't want to do this to him again. It's a good punishment but it's a bit too much. What do you think?"
"I was going to say the same thing, Jane. In fact, I've got some strange feeling running through me about him."
"What sort of strange things?" she asked curiously.
"I can't describe them. I still hate him but over the hate there's these other feelings...."
"But you still want to castrate him...?" she asked slowly.
"Oh yes. Unless we do that, there's no point to all this."
"And once we've done it, you know we can't let him go?"
"Yes, we talked about that before."
"But now I've had another idea. Instead of killing him, why don't we sell him?"
"Sell him — as a slave?"
"Exactly. I been doing some research on the Internet. You know there is absolutely nothing you can't buy on the Net...? Anyway, I've found a site where they actually deal in slaves. I put out feelers, describing James and I got offers you wouldn't believe."
"How much?" I asked.
It wasn't that I was interested in the money. Jane and I were independently well off. Neither of us needed to work. We did it only because we had been brought up that way.
"Fifty thousand, sight unseen. Perhaps more after I send photos...."
"Good God. Where are these buyers?"
"All over. Japan, Africa, Turkey, even in the US ... just about anywhere you name, there's a market."
"And I thought slavery was dead."
"It seems not. Apparently there are ways to keep slaves without others knowing, even in such places as Japan and Britain. Anyway, it's better than murdering him. I knew it would have to be done but I wasn't looking forward to it."
"You know Jane, you must have realised this from the beginning. I only understood it after we had begun the project."
"I know that Penny. But I was prepared to go along with you because I thought it was the only way you were going to cut out the cancer that was eating at your heart after what he did to you. That's why I said nothing until it was too late to stop."
She paused and then returned to her earlier subject,
"I was thinking, before we castrate him, there's another thing I'd like to try on him."
"Go on," I said.
Her ideas were always intriguing and I knew this one would be too.
"How about we freeze his cock and balls?"
She grinned wickedly at me as she said it.
"Freeze them? How?"
"I'll make a metal container about the same size as the beaker but in two halves with rubber seals between the two and a hole like the beaker has for his genitals to fit in. We fit the two halves over them and then put rubber bands around the container to keep the two halves together. We pour in the water and then freeze it."
She said it all as if that was it. I was exasperated. I didn't have her inventive mind for such things.
"Again I say, how freeze it?"
She grinned again,
"It's quite simple. We don't even need a refrigerator. I'll get a bottle of CO2 gas. Remember your physics? When a gas that has been liquefied is allowed to re-gasify, it needs to get heat from somewhere to do so. All we have to do is play the gas over the metal container and in a minute or so, it will freeze the water in the can...."
"You sure it will work?" I said doubtfully.
"Sure," she said firmly. "Look, I'll get a bottle tomorrow and show you."
She did and I grinned as I watched the gas cool a can of coke in just a few seconds,
"Great," I said. "How long will it take you to make the can thing?"
"It's done. I thought of this while I was experimenting with the glass beaker — which reminds me. We'd better go down and see how our guest's balls are going...."
They were going very well. A bright red — both cock and balls and he was moaning beautifully. Jane played up to him,
"An excellent method of cleaning him, Penny ... I think we should sterilise his genitals this way every day. What d'you think?"
"Oh definitely. Perhaps we could scrub him down with scalding water — all over."
James stared from one to the other of us in horror as Jane emptied the now hot but no longer scalding water from the beaker and removed it from his body. We let him down then and returned him to his cell.
Meanwhile, things at work had returned to normal. I was firmly in charge of James' department and as the weeks passed and no word was heard of him, he was gradually forgotten. About two months after his disappearance, the Managing Partner called me into his office.
"Penny, you've done very well in James' absence...."
"Thank you, sir."
"There still has been no word of him...."
"The partners have decided to offer you his position — permanently ... and a partnership as well. What do you say?"
I stared at him. I was only twenty-seven years old. To be offered a partnership and head of a department at my age was unheard of. But I wasn't one to hide my lights. I smiled at him,
"Thank you sir. I would be honoured to accept."
"Good. We'll sort out the details later — perhaps you'd have lunch with the partners?"
I couldn't wait to get back and tell James I now had his job and his partnership in the firm. I was shocked at his reaction though,
"Well done, Penny. You deserve it," he said.
I gaped at him. I thought he would curse me and shout recriminations or at least vengeance at me but he did neither. I turned on my heel and went back upstairs. Jane couldn't understand it either.
We froze his balls the next Saturday. It was quite exciting actually. He thought we were going to boil them as we took him back to the depilation room and fixed him in the frame including the iron belt around his middle although that wasn't actually necessary this time. Still, it added to his horror and that was what we were on about.
Jane didn't wheel the table over this time, merely picking up her metal can thing and bringing it over to show him. He looked at without comprehension but with a very definite fear. Everything we did to him brought him distress; mostly terrible pain and while he had no idea what this one was for, he well knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.
She fitted it around the smoothly naked root of his genital package and making sure the two halves of the can were merged into the rubber seals, placed the strong rubber bands around it at top and bottom.
She filled the can while I held it upright against his belly and then went over to wheel the bottle of carbon dioxide gas over. It already had the rubber tube fitted to its nozzle and she turned on the main valve then took the hose in her hand, pointing its nozzle at the metal can I was holding.
As soon as she pressed the lever and the gas began to play over the can, ice began to form. James stared down at her actions in perplexity — until he felt the temperature of the water around his cock and balls start to drop — rapidly. By the time the temperature was approaching zero, he was moaning. Have you ever had ice pressed against your body? Try it. It aches horribly after a few minutes.
The ice was forming on top of the water now and around the inside wall of the metal canister. A few more minutes and the whole thing would be frozen. It took quite a while actually. I didn't count the minutes but it must have been nearly an hour.
Yes, Jane had thought of all that CO2 and had rigged not only an exhaust system but provided a bottle of oxygen as well, just in case. Anyway, as the water slowly froze, James' moans got louder and louder. His body shivered as the cold spread from his groin.
Then, as the ice began to press in on his genitals (water is the only substance that expands as it freezes), his moans became shrieks of sheer agony until the cold anaesthetised his organs and his screams gradually abated. His shivers didn't though.
Jane finally decided the process was complete and turned off the gas. She then removed the two rubber bands from the canister and poured some hot water over it allowing the two halves to fall off. I chortled as I stared at the cylinder of almost clear ice that now surrounded his male package. It pressed up against his lower belly and his muscular thighs and it must have felt horrible. Worse still when we released him and he tried to walk.
Every step pushed the block of ice away from his body and from side to side, forcing his frozen genitals out from his body. He managed it though and we stood outside the bar of his cell looking in as he sat in the growing puddle of water, staring up at us in despair.
"That's it, Jane," I said when we sat down for our tea a few minutes later. "We castrate him now and sell him — how do we ship him, by the way?"
"Even that's taken care of. The brokers that deal in human flesh have their own very fast ocean going motor cruisers that can get from one place to another quickly. All we have to do is to decide the best place and they arrive, stand off outside the twelve mile limit and send in a fast motor boat."
"Good. Now, the castration?"
"I'll do it here, in my surgery. I've been reading up on the procedure and
it's pretty simple. I have to open up his groin to get at the root of his
penis but it doesn't have to be a big incision and removal of the testicles
and scrotum is very easy.
xxxx"It shouldn't take more than half an hour at most. I'll put him out to it, I think. It'd be nice to hear him scream as I cut off his cock but medically it's not on."
I agreed with her. Actually, now I don't think I was quite as keen on hurting James as I had been. It was three months by this time and his strange looks at me had been getting stronger. Still I didn't understand them and still I didn't recognise my own weird feelings which were becoming more insistent, even if I didn't comprehend what they were.
I assisted her although I didn't really have to do anything. James came upstairs docilely enough and he didn't even make an attempt to run although we had deadlocked all the upstairs doors just in case.
It wasn't likely of course. He was still as naked as he had been for every one of the days he had been with us and with his body depilated he was even more naked. I still delighted in this so smooth and clean appearance of his body and I had even experimented with shaving my own body totally.
It looked obscene somehow — but thrilling too and I liked the feel of my naked vulva against my panties. As a result, I borrowed Jane's gadget and did it permanently. So did she, after I showed her the results.
He lay down across the operating table without giving any resistance. Then Jane gave him a shot of something and he startled a little then lay his head back down and just went to sleep, sort of like what you think an execution is like. He was a lot limper than being asleep and I was afraid he might really be dead, but I reached down and felt his throat — there was a pulse, but a weak one.
"He'll be out for a while — more than enough time for us to do the down and dirty on him."
I tensed my neck muscles. I colud feel the cords in my neck pull taut. She saw and sniggered,
"You're a lot more worried about all this than he is."
I just raised my eyebrows and forced a weak grin.
She clamped off his cock and balls and made a few cuts here and there, pulling out some tubes and stitching them off or searing them with a hot iron. She then got up and took a break, sipping a drink I had brought her.
He looked really weird lying there like a corpse. I thought about biology class back in high school, dissecting a frog. Back then I was really squeemish about it all. It was so unfair to the frog.
But this, this wasn't all that bad at all. He had brought this on himself.
It was his fault, not mine, not my sister's. We weren't to blame.
Besides, cutting off his little froggie wasn't anything, not really. Cutting
up a real froggie, now there was something wrong with that.
I won't describe the operation in detail. I don't know the names of the various
tubes and nerves and other things inside the body and to call one of them the
'white thingummy' takes away somewhat from the description. Suffice to say that
she went to work carefully but efficiently, cutting and cauterizing and sewing
and cutting some more.
She should have been a surgeon if I'm any judge of things. She cut and cauterised
and sewed until in what seemed like only a few minutes, she was sewing up the
last stitches. She put the severed cock and balls into a Pyrex bread loaf
pan and got up, stretching, shaking a little numbness out of her hands.
We got him up. And walked him around a little. He was coming around some, but was too drowsy to know anything.
.We leaned against him up against the wall like a limp rag mop. He closed his eyes and let his arms loll to his sides. He slid down the wall so we had to tie one wrist to a rope and tied that to an eyehook in the ceiling to hold him up some. He just hung there by one wrist, limp, half kneeling, his head lolled to the side.
I got down on my knees and looked real hard at the big open wound where his
cock and balls had been. It was sort of ugly, but in a very fascinating
way. I studied the wound for maybe ten minutes before we decided we had
to lower him down or we'd lose his hand. And neither of us wanted that
... not yet.
Jane told me that when he was all sewed up and it was all healed, there would be nothing there except a small bud, sort of like a tiny red flower ... nothing else, not even the swelling that a woman has, and definitely not the slit or the opening — no pussy lips, just a smooth crotch.
"The button's to piss with."
"He'll have to sit to pee, then?"
"Of course," Jane sniggered. "Either that or make a real mess."
"Serve him right."
Jane pushed me out of the way and shoved a small tube up his piss tube then sewed everything up really carefully. She did it really fast, though, then let me look again.
"Gee, the stitches are so small!" I said.
"They need to be. What I'm aiming for is a join so fine you won't be able to see it. We want to make it look as if he's never had any genitals at all."
I had a sudden thought,
"What about his male hormones, Jane? Without his testicles, won't he turn into a woman?"
"That's a fallacy, Penny. Testosterone is made in other parts of the male body as well as the testicles. In some cases, not enough and he needs supplements. In James' case, we'll have to wait and see. I can test his levels easily enough. I have a feeling though he'll be alright."
We then took him down and walked him back to his room and lay him down in his bed and tied his arms and feet to the cott legs to keep him in place while he healed. Jane put a bag to gather his piss and we left him there, to wake up. He was strapped down and would be groggy for days, so he wouldn't know what was done to him.
.A couple days later, we gave him another grog shot and essentially knocked him out and got him up again, to his feet, to examine how the wound was healing and how it would be when he was upright. Jane told me that that was important because the skin and muscles stretch totally differently standing up from lying down, so she had to check it that way too.
She was satisfied things were healing right so we got him moving again and walked him back to his bed and lay him down again and left him there to wake up and deal with what we had done to him — we would be giving him no more pain killers or knock out drugs so he would soon be feeling it all.
We hadn't told him what we were going to do to him on any occasion. We let him try to sort it out himself. This case was no different. We had brought him up to Jane's surgery and bade him get up on the bed.
He did it because he was scared stiff of our prodders but he was also very nervous about what was coming. Now he was going to find out what had been done to him.It took a good day and a half before he started screaming.
We let him scream himself hoarse and get quiet and at least accept it all before we went into his room. When we finally went in, he had gotten his voice back. He stared at us with hate and sadness, curiosity and anger.
His eyes darted from us to the bandages on his crotch and back to us. His eyes were wide with fear and disbelief, hate and anger, with tears making them look especially soft and doe-eyed.
"You didn't ... " he accused.
"We did," we chorused back at him, grinning triumphantly down at his horror.
"You raped me, James. I am just making sure you never do it again."
He looked up at me, his face a strange mixture of emotions. The horror and anger slowly abated as he came to grips with the fact he was now a eunuch. In their place came resignation and then that other weird expression that I still hadn't fathomed.
His eyes stared at me — not at Jane; directly into my eyes and I felt taken aback for there was no hate left there. The resignation stayed but also this other....
And my own emotions were all at sea. I had no idea what was going on in my
brain — and in my heart. I still felt hate towards him but that was being churned
up by this other thing — whatever it was.
He healed quickly and when the stitches came out I marvelled at his new smoothness,
"I like it!" I said to Jane as my fingers moved over the muscled lower planes of his belly.
"So do I," came another voice.
It wasn't Jane's. We were sitting on a low bench, examining his now so empty groin and we both stared up at him in astonishment.
"You do?" we chorused.
"Yes," he said.
But when we questioned him, he wouldn't say any more. When he had healed sufficiently, we put him back on the bike but only for exercise now. Jane disengaged the dildo and kept the battery charger turned off.
She also failed to renew the thong on the back wheel. She left him on it all morning but now he could pedal or not as the urge took him.
We found (from the odometer she had left attached to the back wheel) that he pedalled most of the morning but not at the breakneck speed we had required before.Within the next three weeks, his small wound had healed and we took photos of him which Jane now sent out to her contacts on the Net.
The bids came in and we eventually accepted one. By now my insides were churning this way and that but still — foolish me — I didn't recognise them. Perhaps it was because I had never been in love before. I had had boyfriends, yes, but no affairs serious enough for me even to consider the boy as a partner for life. Oh how foolish I was. I put both of us through sheer hell, simply because I didn't know what was going on inside me.
The beach we chose was south of Sydney. Those on our side of the harbour were much too populated or too inaccessible. This one was neither. It saw a few people in the summer during the day but at night it was very deserted.
We didn't tell James what we were doing. We thought he might try to run. Another mistake on my part. In fact, it wasn't until he was in the motor boat and it was heading away from the beach that he said the words that hit me like a lead balloon.
"Penny! Don't send me away. I love you...."
By the time they had sunk in, the boat was out of earshot — out of sight too in the darkness. I just stood there and stared after it. And it took minutes before Jane's tugs at my sleeve made me aware she was talking to me,
"Penny, come on. Time to go...."
"He loves me ... " I said stupidly, my voice slow and almost undistinguishable. "He loves me! That's what it was!"
Now I really shouted my words,
"I love him!"
Janes stared at me,
"You love him?"
She turned and stared out at the black sea from where we could now only just hear the motor boat's engine,
She hugged me close while I collapsed in sobs. Sobs of relief that I had at last identified what had been nagging me for months — and despair that it had come just seconds too late. He was gone. Gone to a life of slavery in Japan.
One thing about Jane. She's practical. She didn't muck around saying stupid things like, 'why didn't you say something earlier' or, 'bit late now, girl,'. No, she bundled me back into her car and we raced back to our place where she got onto her computer forthwith. Her contact was less than sympathetic.
No, the deal was done and the buyer was expecting the product. It would not be cancelled and the ship was already on its way north to Japan. His reputation as a dealer was at stake here and while later, perhaps the buyer might be prepared to sell the slave back — at a profit of course, there were no guarantees.
I slumped in despair while Jane comforted me but then I sat up,
"I'm going over there, Jane," I said.
"We don't even know the address, Penny."
"We will find out. We know his name and that he is a very wealthy man who likes white male slaves. You stay here and keep trying to find out his details. I will have to arrange for time off at work. I can't go straight away anyway and even if I could, it would be silly to do so."
Then she dropped the bombshell. Very gently, she posed the question that hadn't even occurred to me,
"And suppose you do find him, what are you going to do with him?"
I stared at her in astonishment. To me it was perfectly obvious,
"Why, bring him home of course...."
"And what do you think will happen then?"
"Oh," I said as the penny finally dropped.
I slumped down again but then straightened up,
"No matter, Jane. I'll keep you out of it, somehow, but I can't leave him there...."
I have to pay tribute to her. She didn't try to talk me out of it. Her future was as much at stake as mine but she didn't even hesitate,
"Okay. Arrange your affairs at work. I'll see to your tickets and passports — what about one for James?"
He must have one. He's been overseas recently. I'll have to make an excuse to go to his apartment to find it. How I will arrange visas, etc, I don't know but I will.
I couldn't get off work for another month. When you are the head of a department, you can't just up stakes and run even though my heart was breaking. But as Jane said, it wasn't life or death. James would be feeling terrible but he was too valuable a commodity for his new owner to kill or even damage seriously.
Of course I made the excuse that there were some papers missing and they might be at his apartment. I went there and found his passport and then Jane got Mr Tanaka's address from the dealer. I was all set. I called him to ask if he would see me as I was coming to Japan 'on business'. He was strangely almost enthusiastic.
Jane came out to Mascot to see me off. Once in Japan I didn't waste any time but rang Mr Tanaka's home to make the appointment. Again he seemed eager that I come and see his slaves — and particularly James. I think he had formed the opinion I was some sort of trainer and dealer in slaves.
I was astounded at his house. Actually it wasn't ... a house, I mean. It was one of those feudal castles one sees in TV shows about medieval Japan. All stone at the base but wood and paper on top. It sat in a very large estate amid forests and fields upon which worked what I took to be Japanese peasants (but weren't). There are no Japanese peasants now, of course. They were tenant farmers though.
I was admitted to the castle with some ceremony and taken to my rooms where I had a delightful Japanese girl assigned to me as my own servant. It was all very strange for one who had always done for herself but I found them all very charming — as was Tanaka himself, when I was presented to him later in the day.
His English was perfect in form but stilted and staccato in delivery, as is the Japanese language. He was in his early fifties but was tall and still seemed athletic in appearance. He beamed at me,
"You have done a very good job in training the slave James, Miss Milliner," he said.
"Thank you, Mr Tanaka."
I smiled uncertainly back at him.
"I was particularly pleased to acquire an Australian slave," he went on.
I looked inquiringly at him,
"You see an Australian soldier killed my father in the war...."
"Oh," I said, suddenly deflated.
I was an Australian, and yet he seemed quite pleased to see me. And if he was so pleased to have James as an Australian slave, it might be difficult to prise him free of this strange man.
He must have sensed my sudden concern,
"But you are not a soldier. You are not a man. Women do not make war."
He beamed as if this explained everything. Again I smiled weakly,
"It is good you cut off his balls ... and his penis, no?"
"Oh, yes, er, yes, well he raped me, you see...?"
As soon as I said it I was sorry. It would only add to his hatred of James. It didn't seem to. In fact I think he sort of expected that all Australians were at least potential rapists. His hatred of things Australian was quite as bad as those of my parents' generation who hated the Japanese for atrocities committed during the war.
"I have decided on some entertainments for you while you stay with me," he said then. "Come, first I show you how we make the slave work...."
He escorted me down three levels until we were in the bottom level of the castle's cellars and there I found James, naked still, black as the ace of spades, shovelling coal into the hungry maw of the huge boiler that apparently heated the whole castle.
It was a huge furnace and required a never-ending supply of coal being fed into its fiery mouth. James was covered in black coal dust and his sweat had mingled with the dust to form a coating of shiny ebon. He looked almost as if he was wearing a brand-new dinner suit.
Behind him was a stick-wielding attendant. The moment James faltered, down came the stick on his buttocks — hard. The man was big and muscular and he seemed to share his master's hatred of Australians for he wielded that stick with every ounce of his considerable muscle-power.
James glanced up after five minutes of frenetic shovel activity and saw me staring at him with love and compassion. His face took on a look of joy but it was short-lived as his driver now beat him unmercifully until he bent to his task once more but every moment he could he looked up at me standing there, a wistful smile just breaking the misery on his face.
Mr Tanaka let me look at him for a few minutes then he took my arm and led me back upstairs for a tea ceremony. After that, he asked me why I had come. I had been thinking on this moment for weeks. How to phrase my words. How to best put my request. I decided that honesty would be my best ploy. If I was to sound sincere, probity would be my best bet.
I told him the whole story, leaving out nothing and ending with my discovery, just seconds too late, that I had come to love James even while I was torturing him.... He stared at me with that famous Eastern inscrutability for long minutes while I shifted uncomfortably on the chair. Then he smiled.
"And so you want him back, is that it, Miss Milliner?"
"Yes, Mr Tanaka," I said simply.
He appeared to cogitate on the matter for another long period, then,
"But I have only just acquired him. He is the only Australian I have ever had as a slave and the only eunuch. I prize him on both counts...."
"But you only use him as a labourer," I protested. "How can he be of such value to you...?"
"Ah, not so, young lady. That is his exercise period. For four hours each day he toils down there under the whip but then he is cleaned up and performs other duties."
"He attends my ladies. As a eunuch, he is a perfect harem attendant and he is made to do housework in their quarters. Then they use him sexually...."
I stared at him. Sexually? How was this possible? He was totally sexless. No balls, but no cock either.
"Ah, I see you are mystified. Come. He will already be engaged in this activity. I have arranged a place where I may watch as my ladies enjoy his body...."
He led me out of the little salon in which we had taken tea and then conversed over the last hour or so and up to another part of the castle — his 'women's quarters'. Of course I was intrigued at his terminology. As I understood it, the Japanese were now monogamous but the implication was women, not woman.
In fact, he had dozens of them. One, his wife, was in charge but the others were as much wives as she was, at least in function. They were his to enjoy sexually and all were young and nubile — except for his wife of course. She ruled them all with a rod of iron but there was compassion and laughter there as well.
As for the sex, well I couldn't believe what they made him do.
We went to a small compartment that had a large glass window on one side. On its other side, it was apparently a mirror and the room into which it faced was the Pleasure Room. It was draped with red silks and thick-piled carpet and there were cushions all over the place. In it were a dozen stark naked Japanese women, aged from late teens to early twenties. All were lovely in the extreme, their slender, lissom bodies either voluptuous or athletic.
Some were engaged in lesbian sex; others with James. Tanaka's wife sat on a chair on a small dais at the end of the room and watched the proceedings. Her face was serene — almost disinterested, but she kept her eye on everyone, presumably to keep the peace.
I wasn't interested in the lesbian sex. I had always found it faintly distasteful, even as a remote idea; in the flesh, it was even more so. Indeed, my eyes hardly rested on those girls. Instead, they moved straight to James and the three girls he was 'pleasuring'. He looked haggard already — as well he might for he was servicing three of the beautiful young women at the same time!
Impossible, you say? Very possible! They had strapped one dildo around his loins and another in his mouth. He was lying over one girl, pounding the dildo at his loins in and out of her frantically.
Another girl was kneeling with the first's head between her knees and he was using the dildo that was partly in his mouth but more out of it, to poke at her naked quim while she grabbed his head and rammed it in and out of her even faster than he was going with the girl under him. Added to that, there was a girl behind him. She had one of those double-ended dildo inserted into her vagina and strapped on tight and she was raping his bottom for all her worth.
"I didn't know he was a rapist, Miss Milliner but now I do, I would say a most fitting fate for him, wouldn't you?"
I grinned across at him,
"You are right, Mr Tanaka. I wish I had thought of it while we were punishing him."
"Come, sit down, let us watch as each of the girls there uses him...."
I stared at him,
"You mean when he finishes with those three, the others will want a turn?"
"Every one of them except my wife. She may use him too but only privately."
Again he paused and then looked almost ashamed as he said,
He smiled apologetically at me,
"I am not homosexual in inclination, Miss Milliner, although I have to admit to a small physical pleasure when I rape him. But no, it is the satisfaction I get from raping an Australian male — one of the race who killed my father...."
"But that was war, Mr Tanaka. Many Japanese killed my people, too?"
"Of course. I understand that on a rational level, Miss Milliner. But on a personal one, I still grieve my long-dead father and hate the male members of the nation that was responsible."
I smiled briefly. I thought it all quite unreasonable but this was not the time to say so and he was my host — and the man from whom I wanted to buy James back. It would not do to antagonise him. It would be all too easy for him simply to refuse my request and ask me to leave.
I turned back to watch as the eunuch James made 'love' to three nubile young women at the same time, bringing each to a number of violent climaxes. When each was sated, she moved out from her position and another young lady took her place. We sat there, hour after hour as James's exhausted body continued to fuck — or be fucked until every single one of the women had had her fill.
When it was over at last they trooped out followed by the wife who turned and smiled briefly at the mirror before turning out the light, leaving us in darkness. We arose from our chairs and left the tiny room. Mr Tanaka asked if I thought James was being well-punished for his crime against me.
"He is indeed, Mr Tanaka, but I wonder if it was time for him to go home...?"
He smiled lightly,
"Perhaps, Miss Milliner. Perhaps. But not yet. You shall remain my guest for a few days while I consider the matter and while your James Milburn sates my hunger for retribution."
I had to leave it at that. I had taken three weeks leave but I had hoped to have James home long before that. I still hadn't worked out how I was going to cope with his homecoming or if he would take action to punish Jane and I for what we had done to him for now I recognised I had rather gone overboard. Still, I had a deep-down feeling all was going to be well. As to the details, well, I was prepared to let them sort themselves out.
Tanaka put both of us through torture before he gave James to me. In my case it was mental torture; in James', physical. He made me watch as he subjected my man to floggings, the rack, the bed of nails and other arcane tortures, knowing I would be hurting nearly as much as James was.
I think he was making me pay for my perfidy in succumbing to James after he had raped me. Whatever it was, I had to sit there as the man I now loved dearly was strung up by his ankles and his back and buttocks whipped with a flogger.
They were careful not to break his skin but the Japanese are perhaps the world masters at torture and they can continue to hurt a man long after us westerners would have had him dead or at least permanently scarred.
The executioner was dressed in leather pants and was naked to the waist, his well-muscled body gleaming in the lights of the large room Tanaka used for his little games. His ladies were not present during any of these events and I was glad about that.
I sat and watched, trying to keep my face at least neutral as the whip landed, not at full force, but with enough power to elicit a horrible scream from James at each stroke.
I haven't mentioned speaking with James. The reason is simple: Tanaka wouldn't let me. He knew James must be agonising over why I was there and he also knew I was desperate to see him at close quarters, to touch him, kiss him; speak to him. But no. It was not permitted and he told me if I tried to do it without permission, my request would be denied summarily and I would be escorted from the castle.
And so I had to contain my impatience and my distaste for what Tanaka was doing to him. The morning toil for four hours in the black hole of the stokehold; the housekeeping duties in the 'harem', both performed stark naked of course, the latter with the simpering ladies (all of whom were at this time very properly dressed in Japanese costume) looking on and giggling over his body.
And then, in the afternoon, his sex duty which lasted for as long as there were ladies to be made love to. I marvelled that so many of them wanted sex every day but many did and no matter which method they chose: the dildo attached to his loins, or that poking out of his mouth; or raping his anus with their own dildo poking out of their vaginas, there were enough of them to make him toil at this demeaning labour for many more hours.
I wondered how long Tanaka would keep him at it before he was finally relegated to stokehold duty all day long, there to die of coal dust disease. It might be years, I marvelled. God! What a fate.
Every couple of days a new torment was scheduled. They didn't torture him to the point of unconsciousness. Oh no. As I said, the Japanese are past masters at torture and can extend it for days if they wish, keeping the victim on the edge of sentience but in terrible pain right through. They didn't do this to James but they made him hurt.
The second torture was the rack and while I had to stand beside it, they stretched him until he was screaming, then relaxed the tension so he hung there in a cold sweat for ten minutes before beginning again to turn the huge spoked wheel that caused such agony to his naked, beautiful body. He hung there looking only at me, his eyes showing his love for me but also his hurt that I had come there to gloat further over his fate — for that was clearly why he thought I had come....
You may be wondering if I regretted castrating him, now that I had fallen for him. The answer is no. He hurt me badly when he raped me. Hurt me physically but more so mentally. I thought then and I do now that he deserved his fate.
So it meant, if it came to the point, that I wouldn't be having any children by him but that didn't overly concern me. I was and am a career lawyer. Other women could provide the nation's children as far as I was concerned.
Two days later, James was placed on the bed of nails, face down, his ankles and his wrists raised high and secured to the tops of the foot-high posts at each corner. Then they whipped him from neck to ankles.
This time the whips were ultra-light, the tails being made of camel hair which only stings. After a thousand lashes though, his whole backside, from neck to ankle, was bright red and as he had squirmed on the nails, they had pierced his chest, belly and thighs.
The day after that Tanaka sent for me. He smiled but I wasn't fooled by his smile. With eastern people, a smile has a different meaning than with us westerners, or most of us anyway. He might be going to deny my request....
"I have decided you may buy the slave James from me, Miss Milliner. I have seen the hurt in your eyes as I punished him and I think the time of his punishment is over.... You will pay me double what he cost me. Is that satisfactory?"
I assured him it was and he then asked me how I proposed to get him back to Australia,
"Oh, I was going to take him on the aeroplane...?"
"And how will you explain his lack of an exit visa from Australia, or his entry visa to Japan?"
"I was going to bluff it out, say they must have missed stamping the passport...."
"It will not work. You will both be detained and it may make a lot of trouble. No, permit me to send you back on my yacht. You may be disembarked in Sydney, he will be later off-loaded at the same beach he was picked up from...."
How did he know all this, I wondered but I said nothing. Nothing that might jeopardise my reunion with James.
"Now, I suggest you go to your room. There will be a surprise waiting for you there."
"James! Oh James ... " I said, rushing into his arms.
He clasped me to them and we hugged for long minutes but then he pushed me away and stared down into my face. His expression had been one of love but also of speculation. He still had no real idea why I was there and if my rushing into his arms had been an indication, it was no surety that I wasn't going to step back and order that he endure some new and fiendish torture.
He pushed me away from him, holding my shoulders in his two hands and stared down into my eyes,
"Why are you here, Penny?" he said at last.
"To take you home, James. I have bought you back and we will be going home soon."
"Home," he said softly. "Home to your house and that cellar?"
"No, James. Home to your apartment — if that's what you want."
"And what happens to you when I report you for what you have done to me...."
He pointed down at his so naked groin, to the flat and to me, at least, so attractive lower belly.
"Jane and I go to jail, I suppose," I said softly.
I omitted to mention that I could of course accuse him of rape. I didn't, because we both knew that without the evidence of his penetration of me — the medical evidence that it was his semen in my body, the charge would be thrown out of court.
"And you would risk this, without any assurance from me that I will do no such thing?"
"Some lawyer you are," he said, pulling me close and kissing me.
At first it was a soft kiss but then, as our ardour grew, it became a burning, fiery thing of enormous passion, continuing until our hearts were ready to burst and we had to come up for air.
"I love you, Penny...."
"And I you, James."
I paused, and then explained.
"Unfortunately, it wasn't until you said those words in the boat and you were too far away to change things, that I realised it. From then on, Jane and I worked non-stop to find you...."
"She helped you in this? The woman who castrated me ... " he said, his hand smoothing down over his so smooth lower belly.
"She did, James."
I paused and we sat down on the bed together,
"Let me say one thing about that, James. I don't regret what I did to you. You hurt me a lot, both physically and mentally. It was both wrong and illegal but I think you deserved it...."
"So do I."
I stared at him,
I had never raped a woman before, Penny. I never had to. I was so conceited I thought every woman was my right. All I had to do was blink an eyelid and she was mine — and by and large, that's what happened. You were different. You weren't interested.
Neither my good looks nor my body were enough for you and in my conceit, I was offended. The actual rape was a mistake. It was wrong, I freely admit it but I hadn't meant it. But it happened and the fact that it was unpremeditated didn't make it right.
"As you put me through the hoops back in your cellar, I came to understand what a bastard I had been all my adult life. I had every privilege and I abused them all. No, I don't regret the loss of my genitals — except for one thing...?"
"You won't be able to have children with me?"
"I won't be able to have children with you.... Does that bother you?"
"No, James. I am a lawyer and I love my work.... I want to stay a lawyer for a good many years yet and a career wouldn't be fair on the children."
He smiled at me then,
"I suppose I had better make it formal then, hadn't I? Will you marry me, Penny?"
"Yes. Oh yes, James."
It was then that he undressed me and we made love.
Made love? You wonder at my choice of words? When he had so gently undressed me and we lay together, our bodies touching at hundreds of points, the tactile contact alone was quite enough to bring me to an orgasm I couldn't believe. And as his flat and so muscly lower belly gyrated against my vagina, more and more wondrous climaxes followed.
On the yacht, so kindly supplied by Mr Tanaka, we made love all day and every day, or so it seemed. We also made plans. First we had to explain his long absence.
"I think a nervous breakdown is the most likely story, Penny," he said. "People seem to have them almost as a matter of course these days."
I agreed with him but then he went on,
"Then there is the matter of me coming back to work...?"
"Won't you?" I said, puzzled at his words.
"I don't think so. From what you've said, you have filled my shoes more than adequately and I don't have the same love of the law you do. I only got my degree and joined the firm because it was expected of me...."
"What will you do then?" I asked, puzzled at the expression on his face.
"You know, housework isn't all that bad...?"
We both burst out laughing,
"You aren't serious?" I said. "You would give up a career as a top-flight financial lawyer to become a house-husband?"
"As a matter of fact, I have become quite enamoured of your house. It beats my modern apartment hands down — that is if Jane will accept me as a brother-in-law who does the housework — and exercises on a strange gadget in the cellar."
Again I stared at him in perplexity, my mouth open in awe,
"You don't mean Jane's bike?"
"I sure do. That thing is the best method of exercising every muscle in the body as I ever saw. I think I can do without the thing up my ass and the electrodes attached to my balls — oops, well you know what I mean...."
That made me look down at his middle once more,
"I said I didn't regret what we did to you — how do you feel about it?"
"You know, Penny, it's the strangest thing. I don't miss either of them. Peeing is a bit hard to accomplish standing up and I suppose I will need to use the WC in public toilets but apart from that, no.
I haven't lost my desire for you and when we make love in our own way, it is as wonderful for me as when I had them.... Perhaps I miss the final ejaculation but against that, this way, I can keep going for hours and bring you to a dozen climaxes without having to take a rest."
"You can certainly do that," I attested. "In fact...."
When we came up for air an hour later, he stroked my naked body gently,
" I do so love you," he said.
"And I you."
It all happened as we planned. I got off the ship at Melbourne, going through the normal customs and immigration formalities and then the yacht took off. Jane was ready and we followed it down to that beach where James arrived, clothed now (and uncomfortable in them), to return to our house.
He came into the office a few days after I had started work and told the partners not only of his 'nervous breakdown' but also that he had decided to give the law away.
Within weeks it was all over the office that I was marrying him and all the girls congratulated me although with a faint disappointment clear in their voices. I didn't mind. The kind of life we were going to live wouldn't have suited them.
They wanted the old James: the handsome athletic playboy and he was gone for ever. My James was just as handsome and even more athletic than the one they had bedded but the playboy was long gone.
Jane had expressed some doubts about James' apparent 'new leaf' but when she saw him working in the house (usually naked) and his love for me that no amount of dissembling could have simulated, she accepted him without any more protests and the three of us made a great trio. Jane was very wise and made sure she gave us space but James wanted to include her in everything — except our bed of course.
She asked me if she could discuss this aspect with him and when I recognised it was a purely clinical and not a prurient interest, I was happy for her to do so. He explained to her (with me present) that while our physical love was a joy to him, even without climax and orgasm, it was the emotional side of it that really made it so wonderful.
Our wedding wasn't a huge affair and nor was it reported in the society columns. The people from work came and a few of James' oldest friends but then we settled down into marital bliss. Funnily enough, after a month, James looked sheepishly at Jane and I over dinner one night,
"Hey, I don't suppose you'd fasten me into the bike like the old days, would you?"
We stared from him to each other and then burst out laughing,
"You want to suffer the thing up your ass and the electrodes to your...."
We stopped and looked downwards, even though the table was in the way.
"No matter," said Jane, the practical one. "If you really want it, I can make an electrode to tape onto where your cock used to be. It will be nearly as bad.... But are you sure?"
"I'm sure I want to try it, anyway. I go to sleep at night and dream of either you two or Tanaka torturing me. I've got to find out...."
We flog him regularly now, with him suspended upside down and he spends hours on the bike some days. I've become quite the dominatrix and so has Jane. Can you imagine a better menage?