definite gap between the sections. There are no photos or other images on the cassette label. The cover title and text appears to be written in an Eastern-European language - Bulgarian? Estonian? The gum-chewing clerk behind the counter doesn't know and couldn't care less.

Jakob is intrigued by the logo, even though he can't read the language, as it suggests some of the games that he and Rachel like to play together. He buys it and takes it home. In the evening with Rachel, he puts it in their old VHS player and hits the "Play" button. The video begins with "Episode I".

The actors are speaking a language neither Jakob or Rachel recognize, but sub-titles are in German. Rachel strokes Jakob's already-hard cock through his pants as the video plays.

Scene: a small city square, with a restless crowd surging toward a platform erected near the center of the square. A wooden post with cross-bracing rises from the platform, to which a naked man is bound, facing the crowd. His arms are pulled up and tied to frame members on both sides, and his pelvis is forced forward by a straw-filled pad behind his buttocks. A broad canvas belt around his belly secures his torso tightly to the frame, immobilizing him. His legs are spread apart, ankles tied to bolts protruding from the platform floor. He is gagged but not blindfolded.

Standing to his right is Her Majesty's High Executioner - a tall and imposing figure, dressed in long black robe, black mask covering the upper half of her face. In her left hand is a rolled-up scroll.

Another woman, dressed in white, ascends the steps at the back of the platform - similarly wearing a white mask - approaches the bound, struggling figure from behind. She reaches around the post to which he is secured, around his sweating torso, and her pale slender hands approach his forward-thrust genitals. She begins expert strokes up and down his dangling shaft, occasionally reaching through and

between his legs, squeezing and pulling on his testicles.

The crowd surges forward, a growing murmer of anticipation. A closeup shot of the men and women in the crowd shows numerous couples touching each other, the women's hands stroking obvious protruberances tenting their men's pants, men discreetly rubbing their woman's thighs and butts.

On the platform, the prisoner's penis grows visibly longer and thicker with each stroke. The hands on his genitals withdraw, and the aroused watchers near the platform can make out her fingers emerging between his legs, delicately dancing up and down the underside of his lengthening shaft, barely touching the skin. In response, his penis twitches, grows even larger, and begins to rise in visible steps,

synchonized with his thudding, panicked heartbeat. The dancing fingers follow its relentless rise, fingernails scraping the delicate flesh as it ascends past the horizontal. Within a minute he's at full erection, rigid shaft jutting out straight from his body, veins striping his penis like river maps, cock head swollen and glistening in the evening sunlight pouring over his body.

The High Executioner steps forward, unrolling the scroll. Her sonorous voice echoes across the square, carrying above the excited murmers from the crowd.

"By order of the High Empress and Supreme Justice Esmeralda, for crimes against five women of the land, Renaldo Dezros is hereby sentenced. Instead of joy and pleasure, the accused has committed henious crimes with his God-given member, knowingly and deliberately causing great hurt, fear, and suffering to five trusting and innocent women who testified against him. The Court hereby declares that you will live the rest of your natural life without the aforesaid member. Commencing from the moment of its final issue, your penis shall be completely and irrevocably severed from your body, by order of Supreme Justice Esmeralda. This sentence shall be herewith executed by the High Executioner of the High Court. Proceed with the sentence." The High Executioner looks up from her scroll, drops it, gazes across the crowd as it falls to the platform floor.

"Possession of a penis is a privilege!" she calls out. The excited crowd surges forward, and a roar of hundreds of throats return the affirmation to the black-shrouded woman on the stage. "Possession of a penis is a privilege!" The tension is almost visible, hanging in the air. Closeup of the crowd again - several women have unbuttoned their men's pants and openly stroke hard cocks, seemingly no social

prohibitions against such exposure and openly sexual behavior in this crowd.

On the stage, the Executioner turns toward the prisoner. The doomed penis, under expert manipulation, has reached extraordinary size and rigidity (woman in the crowd: "No wonder those girls were hurting, I couldn't take one that big ...") The prisoner's eyes wildly skitter across the eager faces in the crowd - finding only morbid curiosity, amusement, dark lust - even from the aroused men in the audience, most of whom show sympathetic erections, but no empathy for his fate. Muffled groans come from the gagged prisoner, perhaps extreme arousal, perhaps fear, or both. The sound is lost in the growing crescendo of excitement from the audience. He flings his head from side to side, buttocks visibly tightening as he struggles to hold off the inevitable.

The Executioner stands facing him, two meters away, her long sleeveless robe revealing sinewy muscles of shoulders and arms. She reaches to a hidden scabbard in her robe, watches intently as fingers continue stroking the glistening shaft. There is an almost imperceptible nod from the woman behind the prisoner; an abrupt flash of steel in the waning sunlight, and the Executioner stands motionless, a two-handed sword raised above her head, waiting for the precise moment.

The crowd surges forward, agitation rising, eyes moving from gleaming steel to engorged flesh, two strong hands holding the sword motionless, two strong hands gripping and slowly sliding the length of the prisoner's erection, from tip to base. Another slight nod from the woman behind, and a groan of defeat and long-delayed release from the prisoner, lost in the noise of the crowd. Two more firm strokes and suddenly a gush of white spurts high from his straining, oil-slicked penis. The woman behind the

frame releases her grip and steps back as a second jet is launched high across the stage, droplets arcing over the nearest spectators into the crowd. With the manipulating hands withdrawn, the entire crowd has an unobstructed view of the prisoner's straining penis as violent spasms surge through its length, launching a third spurt of pearly-white drops with undiminished power.

A flash of reflected sunlight strobes across the crowd from a point above the Executioner's head; the scalpel-sharp sword arcs down so swiftly that no eye follows its motion, and she now grips it with the point pressing into the platform's floor in front of the prisoner. A collective involuntary cry comes from the throats of all watching, frenzied groans from dozens of men, as their own intact members launch spurts of semen into the dust, held in the firm grip of their lovers.

The prisoner's penis tumbles toward the stage floor, spinning end over end to land on the coarse-sawn wood, the sound of its impact lost in the noise. A gush of blood sprays from the short stump where a moment before the prisoner's erection projected so defiantly, while - most improbably - his ejaculation continues unabated, semen still propelled forward onto the stage.

The Executioner raises her hand for silence, and the crowd grows quiet.

"Wow!", says Jakob. "That looked ... really ... um, real. Wonder how they did it."

"Silly boy", replies Rachel, pulling his hard cock out of his pants. "They can do just about anything with special effects, or computer graphics. Let's do something real with this one."

Jakob hits the "Stop" button on the VHS remote control and leans back to enjoy the attention. Episode II can wait.