“Oh dear, I fear my device has failed!”

Chuck carefully opened one eye, squinting guardedly into the fading daylight coming through the bedroom window. He moved his arms carefully, then his legs, wiggled his fingers. He was naked beneath a coarse linen sheet. Nothing bound him to the bed. A woman dressed in a simple white camisole looked down on him with apparent concern.

“Hummmm?” he asked. His throat felt sore. His whole body hurt.

“Well Mister Carter, you seem to be all in one piece. Je ne sais pas … I do not know what is wrong …”

The events of his last conscious moments flashed into Chuck’s brain. He sat up abruptly, shock sweeping across his face. He stared at Margot. Her ill-concealed, mischievous smile gave her away.

“You … you …woman!” he roared. He couldn’t find the right words to convey the anger, embarrassment, excitement, and lust he felt toward Margot.

“Damn you! What a trick to play on a man!” He did his best to maintain an angry glare.

“Oh, Mister Carter” she soothed him. “But I think you liked it. I know he liked it” she added, nodding pointedly toward a place about a foot below Chuck’s navel. Chuck’s attention was momentarily diverted toward his genitals. He reached down in panic, clutched at his tired, flaccid penis to verify it was still there. The sudden touch brought stabs of pain to his male appendage.

“Ow! Damn, what did you do to me, woman?” he shouted.

“No permanent damage, Mister Carter” she reassured him. “I had a close look at you while you … you were resting. Some bite marks, perhaps a bruise at the base of your penis. He will be fine in a few days, I assure you. And, I think now he needs a little rest, n’est-ce pas?”

Margot left Chuck recuperating in her bed and prepared a light supper of bread, cheese, and wine. That night, Chuck and Margot slept soundly in each other’s arms – entirely celibate, by the way.

Before they succumbed to sleep, Margot assured Chuck she had other adventures in mind. Mister Carter responded with a gentle snore.

Appendix: Carter’s Notebook and Diary

14-August 1873

While Margot was in the kitchen, my curiosity about her infernal apparatus was mightily aroused. I got up from the bed and quietly found my way to the closet from which she had withdrawn the machine. Following a quick examination, I deduced that

1. the device’s thick iron “blade” is not at all sharp; its lower edge is in fact machined to a gently-rounded profile, unlikely to separate a man’s member from its owner;

2. the blade is brought to a full stop after compressing any object confined by the lunette to about a half-inch in thickness;

3. thick pads of rubber, above the blade stops, return the blade to a position about an inch above the full-stop limit, after its descent and the termination of downward travel.

In summary, the falling blade will momentarily compress any object in its path to about a half-inch in thickness, then return upwards another inch, and remain there at rest. In other words, it will slam quite convincingly (and painfully) onto the base of a man’s erection, compressing it momentarily, then rebound upwards and remain, where it does not compress the organ – so it presents no impediment to the male issue of seed.

Infernal device! I don’t doubt that Margot had a hand in the machine’s design and construction. The woman is very intelligent for a member of her sex, and she seems capable of anything she sets her mind to. She is a thoroughly bewitching lady.

Tomorrow, Margot invites me to visit the gaol of this strange town, administered harshly by the same woman who conducted the public unmanning of three prisoners – Sylvie Bourg, with whom Margot seems to be well-acquainted. I have no doubt I will witness more extraordinary practices there. This village has more surprises than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.

I only hope that, as we view Madame Bourg’s facility, I can keep my body under control and not display that obvious symptom of arousal Margot’s eyes alighted on yesterday in the public square. It’s difficult to know what constitutes a crime in this village, but I do not want to be a male on the wrong side of the law here.

15-August 1783

Margot and I leave for a visit to the gaol later today. I need not have been so surreptitious in my examination of the device she used on me – she gave me a guided tour this morning! In fact, she encouraged me to make measurements and renderings in order to document its design and mechanism of operation.

There was, of course, a purpose in her doing so; when I mentioned I would be going to London in September to look after some business affairs, she insisted I should visit her sister Alice at the school where she is headmistress.

Margot is convinced that Alice could make use of a device similar to the one lurking in Margot’s closet – a true working replica, however, that – unlike Margot’s – would have a machined diagonal blade, sharpened to surgical standards, and no stops to limit the blade’s downward travel. In other words, God help the young male at Saint Augustine’s who finds himself out of favor with headmistress Alice Collette!

Margot has insidious yet enchanting ways of engaging a man’s compliance. In spite of my better judgment, I agreed to show the plans to her sister next month. God knows what horrors may be visited on the miscreant population of schoolboys there. And I will be complicit in whatever consequences unfold, guilty of treason against my own gender. I must confess to an odd mixture of dread, anticipation, guilt – and supreme arousal.

(end of entry from the journal of Charles M. Carter)