Choice, The - Part 2

I have no recollection of standing, or of leaving the bar, but we were shortly walking down the hall.  I know I was in a complete fog then, and from what Bob has said, believe he was also.  We walked for what seemed hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes.  I'm sure we left the main building, for I had the feeling we were outdoors.  I seemed to have eyes for nothing other than my wonderful wife, and could in no way describe my surroundings.

At one point in our walk, we paused while Carmelita said something that I remember as, "This is where the barbecue will be held tonight.  You're the last of the guests to arrive, and as soon as your husbands are prepared, we'll get started.  We like to dine at 8:00, and it usually takes two hours for proper cooking of the meat course.  That gives us less than an hour to get them ready, so we'd better hurry."  We then resumed walking, soon entering another building.

As during most of that night, I was in a befuddled state.  I know now that our drinks had been drugged, but at that time I was not thinking clearly enough to know anything was out of the ordinary.  My recollections of what was done to "prepare" us are almost like snapshots in time.

I remember being told to get undressed, and did so with no question.  I remember lying on my back on a table, with Sharon standing beside me and fondling my penis.  I have an image of looking down my body and seeing my cock standing at attention, seemingly larger that it had ever been before.  I remember Carmelita trimming my pubic hair with scissors, and then expertly shaving me with a straight razor.  I especially remember Sharon speaking softly to me, telling me how easy it would be to remove my cock with the razor, and asking if I wanted it done that way.

My throat wouldn't obey me, and it was impossible for me to utter even a single word.  When I was unable to answer, she said that it wouldn't be done like that in any case, no matter how much I begged for it.  Her words conveyed the impression that she had already chosen the method that would be used, and I had no say in the matter.  That was fine with me then, for I simply had no will of my own, and the sole purpose of my existence was to please my wife.

The last image I have of my time in the preparation room is very clear in my mind, for it was the final picture I have of my cock still in a usable condition.  Again I looked down my body, seeing Sharon gripping my penis tightly in both hands and pulling it upward with all her strength.  As she held it extended to its maximum length, Carmelita double-wrapped a short piece of wire around the shaft, as close as she could get it to my body.

My next memory is of again walking outside, and out of the corner of my eye I saw my friend beside me.  His cock was also extremely erect, and it too had been shaved.  I remember the erotic way it swayed in time to his steps, and wondered if mine were as beautiful as his.  That thought was interrupted by our arrival at our destination, wherever it was.  As Sharon and Sarah stopped in front of us, Bob and I also came to a halt.

My eyes had cleared a small amount by that time, as the effects of the drug subsided.  I realized we were standing beside something that was quite hot, and struggled to make my eyes focus and my brain to understand what it was seeing.  Finally the picture formed, and I knew we were standing beside a barbecue pit, filled with a bed of red-hot coals.

There were other men standing there with us, and I could see that all had been recently shaved of their pubic hair, and their erections had been tied off in a manner similar to ours.  The center of attention, though, was another man who was overweight to the point of being obese.  Unlike us, his entire body had been shaved, and as he stood there, I could see his tiny penis had also been tied off to keep it erect no matter what happened to it.

A woman, who I assumed to be the fat man's wife, spoke to him and pointed to a nearby table.  I saw him turn and walk to the table, where he got onto its top and lay on his stomach.  Two attendants then placed a thick metal pipe along his back, after which they pulled his arms and legs up to it.  They wrapped many turns of heavy wire around his wrists and ankles, binding them securely to the pipe.  Several other turns of wire were placed under his body, and then secured to the pipe.  All in all, the effect was that of a trussed pig, and I know now that's exactly what he was.

It took four attendants to lift the ends of the pipe, and then to carry the tightly-trussed man to the barbecue pit.  There were two more metal pipes there, mounted upright at each end of the pit, and with a "U"-shaped bracket at their tops.  The attendants carefully placed the pipe in the brackets, and then affixed a large handle to one end of it.  As the man began to groan from the effects of the heat on his body, one of the attendants began to slowly turn the handle so the meat would cook evenly.

At no time did the cooking man cry out, and I know from my own experience that one effect of the drug was to incapacitate the vocal cords.  Given what was done to Bob and I shortly thereafter, we would have screamed at the top of our lungs if it had been at all possible.  However, all we were able to do was groan in imitation of the fat man.

I have no idea how long the man continued to groan in pain, since my own part in the barbecue was then begun.  Sharon took my hand and led me to a place about 20' from the pit, where several wooden posts were sunk firmly into the ground.  She told me to stand with my back to one of the posts, and I did so without question.  My awareness had increased slightly more by then, and as I looked to my side, I saw Bob in the same position at his own post.

At that moment, I felt my arms being pulled behind me, and then knew my wrists were being bound tightly.  As soon as that was done, I felt something tugging on my ankles, and looked down to see hands drawing them behind the post.  My ankles were then bound together, leaving me in an awkward position, with my abdomen, and my tied-off erection, seeming to protrude obscenely from my body.

When I looked up, Sharon was standing there holding a square of material that looked to be 1/4" thick and about 12" square.  In the exact center of the thing was a hole that was about 1 1/2" in diameter.  She held it up so I could get a better look, then said, "This sheet of asbestos will protect the rest of you, honey.  After all, you wanted to keep your balls, didn't you?  I hope this is as exciting for you as it is in your favorite picture on your computer.  I know it's what you've always wanted, and I decided it would be the perfect way for you to lose your cock, like you said you wanted to."

She then placed the plate over the head of my penis, and slowly worked it down until it was tight against my body.  One of the attendants must have been waiting for that to happen, for I saw hands place a wire over the thing and then pull it tightly behind the post, where the ends were twisted together.

As soon as that was done, another attendant brought something and placed it in front on me.  I looked down in rapt fascination and saw that it was a simple backyard barbecue unit, really nothing more than a circular pan on legs.  It was pushed against the front of the protective plate, and then the legs were adjusted so the thing was about six inches below my cock.

By then, I knew what was in store for me, and seeing that my friend's position was a duplicate of mine, for him also.  In a very short time, my fantasy (and his also, as I learned later) would be made reality.  My cock would be roasted slowly over a bed of hot coals, and then would be eaten by my wife.  I still don't know, even months after the event, if I would have stopped it if I could have.  At the time, I was consumed by lust as I realized my years-long fantasy was to become real at last.

As I once again looked up to gaze at Sharon, she was walking toward the pit, carrying what looked to be a tin can affixed to the end of a long handle.  As I expected, she dipped the thing in the bed of coals, filling it to the brim before again returning to me.

She stood very still in front of me then, gazing deeply into my eyes.  Finally she spoke, saying, "It's been your fantasy for a long time to have your little weenie roasted, hasn't it?  Well, now it's really going to happen.  I hope it's as exciting for you as you thought it would be.  I know it will be for me."

"You didn't know I found your disgusting pictures and stories on your computer, did you?  I guess you thought I wasn't smart enough to get around the fake names you put on the files.  I actually found them over two years ago, and was so disgusted I almost left you.  For some reason, I kept looking at the pictures, and reading the stories.  I don't know when it happened, but at some point I realized I was getting turned on by them, just as you were.  Whenever we had sex, all I could think of was cutting off your worthless little dick.  Pretty funny, isn't it?  We both had the same fantasy, but you never guessed, did you?"

She then tipped the can and began spilling the coals into the roaster, directly under my penis.  The immediate blast of heat on my precious manhood was agonizing, and I tried to cry out.  The only sound my throat would issue was a guttural groan, identical to what I'd heard from the spitted man.  At the same time, I heard the same sound from Bob's throat, and turned to see his throbbing cock illuminated by the soft light of the red-hot coals.  Sarah was just then returning with the second can full of coals, and as I looked in front of me, saw that Sharon was doing the same.

Again the can was dumped below my cock, but this time very little additional heat was evident.  I continued to groan in agony as my penis cooked, and was barely able to understand when Sharon said in a husky, emotion-charged voice, "Your little thing will be dead in about two minutes.  If you want me to release you, say so now, or forever hold your peace."

I'm sure that if I'd been able to speak then, I'd have begged for release.  At the present time, however, I'm perfectly content with what was done to me, and am glad the drug prevented my reprieve.  I know Bob feels the same way, for we talk quite often about what was done to us by our wives, and how it has made us better husbands.  He, like me, would have begged for release then, but is now glad it happened.

I don't believe I ever passed out while tied to that post, feeling my penis cooking, and smelling the delicious aroma.  I do know that the world narrowed to a very small place, and as my head hung low I had eyes only for my pain-filled tube of meat that was slowly simmering in its own juices.  I think Sharon placed fresh coals beneath me at least two more times, but am not sure of that.

At any rate, my next clear memory is of her slapping me, and saying, "Wake up, damn you!  You wanted this to happen almost as much as I did, so stay awake to enjoy it.  It's only going to happen once, so you'd better not miss it."

I realized that the barbecue unit had been removed, but I could not sense any absence of heat.  My cock was completely cooked by that time, and no longer able to feel anything.

One of the attendants was standing beside her, holding a dinner plate in one hand and a steak knife in the other.  He handed the knife to her, then positioned the plate under my roasted cock.  Sharon looked deep into my eyes once more, and then without saying another word, placed the knife blade on top of my shaft, right next to the wire, and began to slice downward.

My severed penis fell to the plate, where it lay like some obscene sausage.  Since the blood that had held it erect had also been cooked, it had not shrunk when cut free.  I stared and stared at it, fixing the image in my mind for all time.  I knew that in a few short minutes, my wife would begin to eat it, and then it would be gone forever.

I saw her turn and walk away from me, heading for a picnic table that had been placed in front of the men still tied to the posts.  Our wives sat side by side facing us, and as we watched, they began to cut slices from our cocks, dip them in steak sauce, and consume them.  Over and over, we watched our penises being eaten piece by piece, all of us in rapt silence.

Finally, the last bite had been chewed and swallowed, and Sharon and Sarah stood and returned to us.  As they stood in front of Bob and I, their arms tightly hugging each other, Sarah said, "Now your pussy won't taste like his cum ever again.  I think that's the best part of the whole thing, don't you?"

Sharon lovingly nuzzled her friend's neck, then said softly, "I'll like that part too, but the best thing of all was watching him roast, and then seeing his juices dripping on the coals when his little thing split.  I'll have that image in my brain for a long time."

They laughed softly as they recalled the exciting memories of the past minutes, and then I felt my arms and legs being untied.  I would have fallen to the ground but for the support of the two attendants standing beside me.  It took several seconds before I could stand on my own, and when I glanced at Bob, saw he was in the same condition.  Right then, I had eyes only for his crotch, and the vision consumed my entire being.

Where his cock had once hung was nothing more than a ring of red flesh.  The wire served to prevent any blood loss, so the wound was easily visible.  I could see his balls hanging normally, looking very lonely as they adjusted to a future without their lifelong companion.  Bob was gazing at my crotch also, and I was sure he was seeing, and feeling, what I was.

Our wives then led us back to the preparation room, walking slowly arm-in-arm so we could keep up with them.  As we passed the pit, I saw an attendant still slowly turning the spit, and the fat man was no longer making any sound.  Rather than being horrified at his fate, I experienced an immediate pang of hunger as I smelled the aroma of the delicious meat that would soon be shared among the diners.  Although the thought revolts me now, I'm sure that if I had been offered a portion at that time, I'd have eaten it with no hesitation.

Upon reaching the room, Bob and I were again placed on the tables.  Carmelita entered then with a man, whom she introduced as Dr. _______, and said that he'd take over then, so Sharon and Sarah could return to the picnic.  Before they left, Sarah once again told me to look at her necklace, and that somehow caused me to feel a sense of drowsiness greater than any I'd had ever before.  As I fell asleep, the doctor began to treat my wound, and that's the last thing I remember until the next day.