The car, the steps, the banging of the door …

‘Sylvie!’

The tone of her mother’s voice had her cover her ears.

‘Mommy?’

She sounded like that three year old girl again, so afraid of her mother’s wrath after she had destroyed that vase.

Christine stomped around the corner to face her wretched daughter, when she stopped in her tracks. The picture of misery lying there on the couch broke her heart. Sylvie sat up, looking down to the ground.

‘I know, I fucked up.’

A pause. Sylvie waiting for the axe to fall. Christine fighting with the contradicting emotions of fury and pity.

‘I’ll go to my room now. And wait till you call me … for driving to Aunt Agnes.’

There, it was said, she spoke her own verdict.

‘Why? How could you …’

The voice reached her, when she was already half way up the stairs.

‘How could you give your twelve year old cousin a blow job, while you were supposed to take care of a three year old girl, who’s in shock now because she surprised you both?’

She wanted just to continue walking. She didn’t want this conversation.

‘Sylvie, come back here.’

She turned, hovering on the stairs.

‘Look at me!’

‘He liked it, so what’s the harm. And Lucy is not in shock, it’s not the first time she saw it, she just wanted to blackmail us, she’s a spoilt little brat, who can’t keep her mouth shut. That’s all.’

It just burst out of her.

‘Not the first time …And we all trusted you, thought that you’re a good girl who had learned to control her over dimensioned libido. You’re fifteen, Sylvie. And he is twelve. You know that in some states you might be thrown into prison for rape, for what you did? I am really disappointed in you, Sylvie.’

That hurt. The coiled fury of her mother had unleashed its tail and it stung, where it hurt the most. She so desperately had tried to be a good girl, for four years now she was wearing this damned chastity belt. She didn’t have an orgasm for four years. She couldn’t even remember how it felt. Well no, she remembered it every day and was not allowed to feel it again. And now it would be taken from her forever. A sob reached her throat; she sat down clinging to the banister.

‘I’m too weak; Mommy. It’s eating me up, I can’t help it. It’s like a fire burning in my guts. It’s stronger than me. … Does it get better … after the cut?’

Now it was Christine, who had to look away.

‘We will find out, won’t we? Agnes will be here for dinner. Now better freshen up, young lady.’

Cassie was waiting at the top of the stairs, whispering excited, ‘You sucked off Billie? Wow, cool, how was it?’

Sylvie tried to ignore her. These days she mostly tried to ignore her, with her never ending babbling, which sprouted from her brace infested mouth, her eyes shining excited through her big ugly specs, surrounded by a pimply unformed face. She was one un-cool sister and being seen with her was eternally dreadful. But shoving the door in her face never helped.

‘So they finally are gonna cut off your clit. God, this is going to be so cool. I have to see this, can I be there? I have to be there, please. At least you won’t have to carry that ugly leather thing anymore. Do you remember Ruth Weatherstone? The pudgy girl, who always wanted to go with us to the toilet, because she thought we do something naughty there? I met her yesterday at the mall. Would she have known that I was the only one who had the key to your chastity belt and you couldn’t pee without me, she would have flipped, I tell you. But I hated it when you pooped …’

‘And then they kicked you from the school …’

Against her better judgement, Sylvie had responded.

‘No, Mom decided I needed a school which supports my artistic talents.’

‘Bulls…’

‘Did you ever wank in school after Mom allowed you to go without that thing?’

‘No. I had promised, I wouldn’t …’

‘Well, technically that’s all very unfair, because you never had promised that you wouldn’t take Billie’s dirty pecker in your mouth, did ya?’

Cassie launched her new cackling laugh, which made Sylvie nearly laugh as well.

‘Cassie, I’m sure you haven’t yet finished your homework?’

Mumbling, Cassie left Sylvie’s room as Christine closed the door and sat on her bed.

‘I couldn’t prevent overhearing what you said. I’m very proud of you that all this time you didn’t masturbate. But what you did with Billy is unforgivable …’

She handed her the little key.

‘Make best use of it. After all it doesn’t matter now. Aunt Agnes will be here in one hour.’

When she tried to stand up, Sylvie suddenly launched herself, clinging to Christine’s chest, sobbing uncontrollable into her shoulder. Her voice catching Christine stroked Sylvie’s back, ‘It will be ok, baby, it will hurt, but it will be ok…’

Choking on her sobs, ‘I know it will hurt, but I’m not afraid, not anymore, but I don’t want you to be mad at me, I’m so sorry Mommy, please stop being mad at me, I need you, I need you to hold me, like your Ma held you, please hold me Mommy …’

Christine, her face wet with tears, kept repeating, ‘I’ll be there for you, Sylvie, I will hold you, when it’s happening, I will hold you with all my might …’

When Sylvie’s sobs had finally stopped, Christine gave her a kiss on her tear streaked cheek and smilingly said, ‘Enjoy.’

Sylvie’s weak answering smile heaved a sob to Christine’s chest and she had to leave fast down to the kitchen, where she poured herself a large whiskey.

Agnes’ knock on the door went unheard. The smell of sex permeated the room like a thick cloud, tickling the back of her throat, making the crown of her head tingle, her saliva bathe her tongue. The bed looked like a battlefield. And like a beaten general here she lay: Sylvie, her legs akimbo, her flower swollen, oozing juice, her clit, shining red, standing up from its hood, even visible from the door. Her breasts, which seemed to have grown a notch in recent weeks, topped by two pink nipples, so hard you could cut glass with them, showed signs of recent manhandling, red spots, some turning to blue. And then her face: a mass of sweaty curls, her lips swollen, her mouth open and smiling at the same time. It seemed like yesterday that similar sights greeted her regularly, when Sylvie had staid at Agnes’ house during Christine’s difficult pregnancy with Cassie. Even as a four year old it was Sylvie’s favourite past time to wank herself into a sleep of exhaustion. Agnes couldn’t resist: A light stroke to this fascinating fleshy little knob, vibrating with life. A sigh, a smile full of mirth and deep satisfaction.

‘Hi, Aunt Agnes.’

Her voice sultry and hoarse from screaming into the pillow.

‘Hi, sleepy head.’

Laying her head into Agnes’ lap, Sylvie snuggled into her pot belly, which Agnes after three children had all the right to be proud off, and dug her nose into the folds of her flowery dress.

‘Hm, you always smell like cinnamon and cloves and woman.’

‘Are you sure you’re not smelling yourself, you greedy little minx.’

Giggling Sylvie unconsciously wiggled her bum and rubbed her legs together.

‘No, this is Aunt Agnes smell, earth mother smell.’

Now Agnes burst out laughing.

‘What you smell is a healthy bush, long lips and that I’m ripe today.’

Sylvie had crawled up to lay her head on Agnes’ shoulder sniffling into her breast. Oh it was confession time, she hadn’t much changed her little-girl-don’t-be-mad routine.

‘I’m so sorry, Aunt Agnes, that I failed your trust, that I robbed Billy of his innocence and that Lucy had to see things she shouldn’t at her age. But I promise I will be good … after …I’m sure now it will help. I’m ready to pay the prize.’

Agnes stroked her hair and turned Sylvie’s face to meet her eyes.

‘Apology accepted, young lady. And to be quite honest I’m not sure if there was much damage inflicted on dear Billy. If anything his 12 year old macho attitude has gone up a notch. And concerning Lucy I’m convinced that having seen what you did and hearing about what will happen to you will teach her to tame her own little devil, which is very much showing his horns already.’

‘You told her?’

‘Well, in terms consistent with her age, but yes I told her that you’re going to loose, what she calls her ‘tickle spot’, because what you did with Billy, and that she should be careful with her bath time playing, which has become quite obsessive, as she might end up the same way. I think it gave her something to think about.’

‘Poor Lucy, …’

‘But let me be clear, Sylvie, before we go down for dinner. I don’t want you to see it as a punishment, a prize to be paid. Rather as an enhancement, as a chance to find your real self, to find serenity, a calm which leads to deeper satisfaction. Many of my patients have told me later that they finally arrived at a true female identity, their sexuality not external any more, but internal, a constant fire burning in their core and suffusing all their life. A feeling of giving oneself by being open and taking in and being attentive to your man’s needs instead of chasing your own brief rush of lust. You know Rachel?’

‘Theresa’s daughter? She had a baby recently, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, and while I was stitching her up, as she was badly torn, her new born baby sucking on her breast, you know what she told me? She said, “It’s like you’re the best beautician in town, from piercing my ears to cutting my clit to stitching me up now, you’re making me beautiful, more woman every time.” I felt really proud of my work then.’

Sylvie’s dazzling smile showed her understanding.

‘But my stomach is telling me, if we don’t rush for dinner, your mother is going to kill us both.’

Giggling Sylvie jumped into a long T-shirt.

‚Sylvie, stop fidgeting.’

‚But it’s cold and wet, and …I feel like peeing all the time.’

Cassie’s cackling laugh was interrupted by her singing, ‘Sylvie sits on an icepack, on an icepack ..’

Sylvie was shovelling five more meat balls on her plate, murmuring ‘I so hope, you’re growing up one day and become seven, you four year old dimwit.’

Agnes touched her hand.

‘As much as I admire, what your healthy appetite is doing to your breasts, Sylvie, a full stomach isn’t really recommended before a …’

Sylvie reversed the movement of her fork, smiling nervously, ‘Of course.’

Christine moved a small parcel to Sylvie.

‘Look, Aunt Agnes, brought you something.’

Cassie jumped up.

‘A gift?’

Sylvie had opened the longish white case, looking confused at its content. Cassie, bending over her, was faster and grabbed the silver looking object, holding it under the kitchen light.

‘What is …’

‘Give it back!’

‘Be careful!’

‘Don’t touch the lever!’

Four shouts rang out simultaneously, answered by Cassie’s triumphant ‘It’s a clamp.’

‘But why …What’s that … It’s a self-cutting clamp!’

Her exuberant reaction to her discovery carried her back to Sylvie.

‘You see here are the springs, and there is the blade …’

‘Be careful …’

‘… and if you press that thingy here, it goes whoosh, and it’s all gone, clit and all.’

Her blabber was interrupted by Agnes’ continuing explanation.

‘… don’t touch the blade, it’s sharper than a scalpel, and the springs are so strong that it’s very difficult to open them again, so don’t trigger them accidentally.’

Sylvie’s trepidation was evident.

‘Shall I try it on now?’

‘What’s that?’

Cassie’s curiosity had led her back to the box, where she dug up a golden chain, which she presented for everyone to see.

‘Agnes explained to me that some of her patients like to wear their lost body parts as pendants. So I wanted to give Sylvie the possibility if she so wants to. But in any case I think it’s a nice chain, which you could also wear just like that. My circumcision present.’

Christine’s solemn explanation had Sylvie on her feet in seconds, her pussy dripping water from the ice pack. She hugs her mother, whispering ‘Thank you, mommy.’

Cassie still looks astonished at the chain.

‘But how? It’s flesh, it’s going to rot.’

‘Well, there are different ways to preserve it, you can tan it like leather or plastify it or put it into resin …One woman even coloured her little butterfly with blue lacquer, which gave it the appearance of a strange porcelain flower.’

‘Do you wear yours, Aunt Agnes?’

A shadow crossed Agnes’ face.

‘I’ll get my things from the car.’

Christine’s and Sylvie’s stares added to Cassie’s stupefaction.

‘What?’

‘Agnes isn’t cut and she doesn’t want to talk about it.’

‘Why, Mommy?‘

‘The cutter is never cut. Only when she passes the torch, she can decide to get cut.’

‘Says who?’

‘It’s an old family tradition.’

‘So, we are in this cutting business since …’

‘… generations, yes Sylvie.’

‘But it’s not logical, shouldn’t the cutter know, what it means to be cut?’

‘Well, our ancestors have thought differently.’

Agnes must have come back stealthily to answer Cassie’s question.

‘As Grandmother explained it to me, originally it was probably meant to prevent the cutter to feel pity as she herself couldn’t even imagine, what it would mean not to find relieve by playing with one’s clit. But she herself saw it more as a long and winding road to atonement. I think often she was envious of the new sexuality she gave to these young women. After all she lived with a woman, who she herself had cut, and she saw every day, how sexual she was. I think that was the reason, why she asked me to take over even before my final year in the nursing academy, so she could join her as a real woman as she liked to call it.’

‘Now you lost me. Great Grandma lived with a woman?’

‘You cut Great Grandma?’

The two girls had turned around looking at Agnes standing at the entrance in utter astonishment.

‘You better come in, Agnes, and tell Grandma’s story in the living room, not that the neighbours aren’t friendly, but I wouldn’t count on their tolerance for screwed up family stories.’

The girls had shacked up together on the couch, all enmities forgotten, Cassie’s head practically on top of Sylvie’s pussy, naked and still swollen, even after half an hour sitting on the icepack.

‘So Great Grandma was a lesbian?’

Like always, Cassie couldn’t wait for the story to start.

‘I think, she rather went both ways. Though it was an arranged marriage, she loved your Great Grandfather dearly, and she gave him two kids, your Granduncle Jim and our mother. But her real love was Aunt Margaret, as we called her. Her best friend since kindergarten and the first one she had to cut on her own, when she had taken over from her mother. It must have been something like a trauma for her. She kept on telling me that story again and again, while I was cutting her.’

The sound of breaking glass came form the kitchen, where Christina was clearing the table. Looking at Agnes‘gift to Sylvie, the clamp, which would take Sylvie’s clit any moment now, she had accidently tripped a glass.

‘Everything ok, Mommy?’

Sylvie’s concern and the instrument of purity in her hand let her smile.

‘Fine...’

‘Why trauma?’

Cassie didn’t like interruptions.

‘As I said, she was her best friend and probably her lover already at that time. Margaret was forced, like Grandma, into an arranged marriage. But the family of her husband had insisted on her being circumcised. Margaret had asked her to be the one to provide this service as the last token of her love, before being separated forever, as her husband’s family lived far away.’

Sylvie sniffed. Her emotional state simply wasn’t ready for another sad story. Cassie stroked her knees and kissed her thighs as Sylvie’s feet were ducked under Cassie’s belly. She took Sylvie’s hand.

‘Stop you cry-baby. I’m sure there is a happy ending.’

‘There is: Margaret moved back here as soon as her husband died, who was considerably older than her. And she moved in with Grandma and Grandpa.’

‘So Great Grandpa knew?’

Sylvie couldn’t believe her ears.

‘Perhaps not at first. But when I visited Aunt Margaret on her deathbed, she was very candid: Basically they had a ménage a trois.’

‘That’s why they both were so distraught when he died. I still remember that, though grieving myself, I was struck by their breaking down on his grave, having seen them since my childhood as this rather stern looking ladies, of whom I was always slightly afraid.’

‘They fucked together all three of them? Cool. But what’s now with this trauma thing, Aunt Agnes?’

Christine, having set herself next to her kids to contribute to the story, couldn’t decide if to praise Cassie for her French or to scold her for her English.

‘At that time the cutting was done with razor blades and no clamp. And as learned from her mother she had started at the top. Margaret screamed from start to finish and kept pleading with her to stop and to hurry at the same time, both of which she couldn’t as, because of the blood and her own tears, she couldn’t see properly and had to work slowly not to hurt her even more or make her ugly.’

Sylvie shivered and was biting her finger nails on her free hand.

‘And she told you that while you were cutting her?’

‘Yes, she had insisted that I do it the same way as she had it done to Aunt Margaret, which I hated, because of all the blood and the blunt instruments. And while she talked she smiled as if she wanted to smile all the pain away she had inflicted during her life as a circumciser. Only when I cut her clit she moved her head back, made a rattling sigh and said “Finally.” When I stitched her up, she told me of her struggles to find the right clamps, the best surgical instruments to make the procedure more humane and that she preferred the gag to the teeth guard as every scream reminded her of Margaret’s torture.’

‘And still Margaret loved her.’

Sylvie always was a sob for a good love story.

‘Even more so. The experience bonded them forever.’

Christine sent a strange look to Agnes.

‘So why wasn’t Margaret there, when you cut Great Grandma?’

You could count on Cassie to find that little hook in a too perfect story.

‘Grandma wanted to surprise her, but as I found out later, Margaret was furious as she adored Grandma’s long lips and huge clit. Still, as Margaret later told me herself, they had ten wonderful year’s down at the coast, where they moved, shortly after I had taken over Grandma’s practice. Ten wonderful years of experiments and crazy sex, as she called it, with Grandma dying in Margaret’s arms after one of her incredible orgasms, she had learnt to achieve after her circumcision. “I so look forward to play with her again in circumciser paradise”, Margaret told me, just minutes before she died herself in her sleep.’

Even level-headed Cassie had tears in her eyes as Sylvie jumped up.

‘I’m ready now.’

She looked worried and determined at the same time.

‘Yes! I get my shaving gear.’

Cassie’s enthusiasm took everyone by surprise.

‘Since when do you shave? You don’t even have hair down there.’

Sylvie’s protest didn’t even register.

‘Where do you want to go, Sylvie?’

‘My room?’

‘So your room it is.’

‘And now off to your sister into the bathroom.’

The two sisters took Sylvie up the stairs.

Cassie brought Sylvie back to her room as instructed: blindfolded and shaven clean like a baby, not a nick to be seen.

‘Well done Cassie. You can take off her blindfold now.’

Sylvie gasped, when she saw her room awash in candle light, soft music starting to play, Christine and Agnes sitting on her bed reaching out to her.

‘Come here, beauty, sit between us.’

Sylvie was encircled by the two sisters, her legs spread by each one of their legs, their arms crisscrossing over her shoulders, their heads touching her head. Agnes passed Sylvie the clamp.

‘You have to try to push it as close to the skin as you can. Cassie, can you help her?’

Cassie was on her knees in front of the bed pulling on Sylvie’s lips and clit hood, with Sylvie gasping and giggling at the same time.

‘It doesn’t go any further.’

Agnes controlled the position of the clamp with a slow movement of her finger around its edge. Sylvie moaned.

‘Very good, girls. Now you move these two metal bands close to Sylvie’s pussy, this will close the clamp. It will start pinching, Sylvie, so don’t be surprised.’

Sylvie started sweating as the clamp became tighter and tighter. Suddenly she sobbed, her hands clutching her face.

‘Sylvie?’

Christine’s worry brought her back.

‘I can do it, I can do it, it just really hurts.’

‘Just one more inch.’

‘Shall I …’

Agnes’ shaking head stopped Cassie.

Sylvie breathed heavily, her legs shaking, when she pushed the band further down, the knife of the guillotine finally touching the top of her clit hood. With a further sob she closed her eyes bending her head into the cradle of the two arms over her shoulders, a single tear running down her cheek.

‘Here you go, well done, Sylvie. You can start now, Cassie.’

The two sisters kissed the whimpering girl, holding her cramping hands while observing Cassie’s tongue bathing the swelling inner labia and the now very visible clit with her sweet saliva.

‘Oh God, don’t stop, Cassie, that feels good and really bad at the same time. It’s like someone is crushing your little toe with his boot, while at the same time tickling it.’

Sylvie’s mumbled commentary was interspersed with whispered encouragements by mother and aunt.

‘Breath baby, deep in and deep out.’

‘I will put your fingers now to the lever, so when you can’t feel Cassie’s tongue any more, it’s up to you when you want to press it.’

Another sob and more tears, her voice all tiny again.

‘Mommy, I’m not sure I can do it. And I feel like screaming …’

‘Then scream, baby.’

‘But the neighbours?’

Cassie stopped her concentrated game with Sylvie’s dying girl parts.

‘She could chew on my panties, like she always liked to do, when we were younger and she didn’t want you to hear us being naughty again.’

Cassie wriggled out of her obviously rather wet underwear, which Agnes grinningly crunched into a gag ball.

‘Wait. I want to try something.’

Cassie closed her teeth around Sylvie’s now over dimensioned clit hood, with the blue clit tip as big as her thump nail, and shook her head like a dog playing with a bone.

‘Do you feel that?’

Sylvie looked at her astonished.

‘No. Well, there is this tearing feeling at the back of my spine.’

‘And that?’

‘What are you doing with my assh …’

The rest of the sentence was silenced by Agnes inserting the tasty gag, which was urgently needed as Cassie’s peppermint oil stained finger entered Sylvie’s rectum, eliciting the expected scream, a scream, which didn’t seem to stop, as if on replay. In the end it wasn’t quite clear, if Cassie’s manoeuvre triggered an inadvertent reaction or if Sylvie pressed the lever on purpose, but here it was lying between her legs: her entry ticket into real womanhood as her Great Grandma would have said. Her severed clit, hood and inner labia, her little butterfly, bathed in spurts of pussy juice still trickling from the tiny hole pulsing behind the clamp, which showed one thin red line of recently cut flesh.

‘Cool.’

Cassie’s open mouth was matched by Sylvie’s saucer like eyes priming with tears. And then the shaking started. Christine and Agnes had to link their other two arms around Sylvie’s lower body to control her flailing arms and rippling belly and add their other legs to keep hers apart. Still the bed jumped like in an earth quake. Cassie shook her head.

‘I can’t get my finger out. Her asshole is swallowing my finger. God, that’s the mother of all orgasms!’