We had been married for almost three years when my wife, Karin, announced it was time for her to have a daughter. Up until that time, she had expressed no interest in having a child, and that was just fine with me. We were very much in love, and our lives were wrapped up in each other. I certainly felt no need to add a baby to our twosome, and had thought she felt the same. She was very insistent, though, and in the end it was really her choice anyway. You see, she had always been the one "in charge" in our relationship, and I always seemed to defer to her. That practice prevailed in this instance also, and I immediately stopped wearing condoms during intercourse.

That change also introduced other changes, as usually happens in the normal course of events. I reveled in the new sensitivity, and loved the way my bare cock felt sliding against the velvety-soft folds of her pussy. I'd never before felt anything so overwhelmingly pleasurable, and knew it would be very difficult to return to wearing rubbers in the future if it again became necessary.

Another change introduced by our new practice was less pleasurable to me, although it seemed to increase Karin's excitement. You see, I had always been "quick on the trigger" when it came to ejaculation. I seemed to have no control over that particular reaction, as well as the one that followed: my penis would deflate. Since my wife was slower to reach orgasm than I was, it would leave her unsatisfied if I couldn't continue to pleasure her. For that reason, she had insisted that I give her oral sex to allow her to climax, in the event that my cock wouldn't cooperate.

That was not a problem in the first years of our relationship, and then marriage, since I'd always worn a condom. Now, however, a new element was introduced, and that particular element was my contribution to baby making: my cum. I found it not at all pleasant to provide the type of service my wife expected, and even demanded, when it meant that my mouth would be filled with what I'd so recently deposited in her.

The first few times I ate her to orgasm were very difficult for me, but I soon learned to shut down my mind and concentrate on giving her the pleasure she deserved. That worked, and by the time a month had passed, I was not only able to tolerate the taste and feel of my semen, but actually came to enjoy it. Of course, the fact that Karin was obviously finding this new type of sex very enjoyable helped me to develop that mindset.

It took more than three months for me to get her pregnant, but at last her gynecologist confirmed she was indeed in the early stages of motherhood. When Karin returned home with that news, she also told me that her daughter would be named Abigail, in honor of her great-great-grandmother, whose middle name that was. She said it was a tradition in her family to name daughters in that manner, and in fact her own first name had been her great-great-great grandmother's middle name. I had no objection to her choice, but did wonder how she could be so sure our child would be a girl. There was no arguing with her, though, on that point or any other, for that matter. She was convinced that her baby was female, and given that no boy had ever been born into her family, for as far back as their memory went, I had to concede that her guess was probably accurate.

We continued to have intercourse after she became pregnant, and since it made no difference at that point, I continued to penetrate her with no condom in place. We both had come to enjoy the greater sensitivity that afforded, although it was apparent to me that she derived the greatest pleasure from receiving oral sex after I had climaxed inside her. Her increased pleasure seemed to stimulate my own, and even at those times when my penis remained erect after my orgasm, we both preferred that any further stimulation be provided by my tongue and lips.

One other change that occurred was gradually introduced in Karin's fourth month of pregnancy. She began to complain of my weight on her prone body when we had sexual relations in the "missionary" position. As an experiment, she told me to lie on my back, while she mounted my cock by straddling my crotch and lowering herself to me. From that starting position, it somehow just seemed natural that, following my climax, she would lift up and move forward to my eager tongue. The first time she did than, I realized that the amount of my cum I'd been swallowing before that time was but a fraction of what I actually put in her. For the first time in my life, I began to believe all the stories about "quarts" of cum. Anyhow, it certainly felt that way to me.

Karin's enjoyment seemed to grow even more as we used that new position, and as hers increased, so did mine. Soon I once again craved the taste and feel of my semen on my tongue and in my mouth, and eagerly sucked it from her as she sat on my face. That never failed to bring about her own orgasm, and that in turn increased my own enjoyment.

She always referred to my oral services as "saying hello to Abigail," and whenever she lifted off my cock, she'd use that phrase to give notice that my tongue had better get ready to give her pleasure. I actually began to look forward to that part, and many times would do everything in my power to cum quickly. Of course, that was never a problem, since as I've already said, I had a short fuse.

As her pregnancy progressed, my wife seemed to become more aggressive and demanding during our sexual relations. By the sixth month, she had begun to change her position when seated on my mouth. Before, she had just scooted forward far enough to allow me access to her dripping-wet pussy. When she decided it was time for a change, she turned around so she was facing my crotch.

That allowed her to place her hands on my cock and balls, and I loved her attentions there. It didn't take long, though, before she began to treat my genitals in a much rougher manner. She seemed to take special pleasure in pinching the tender flesh beneath the head of my penis, and even pulling sharply. As her orgasm approached, I sometimes feared she would simply rip the thing from my body.

As with the taste of my semen, I soon came to accept her actions, and then to even look forward to them. As her treatment of my cock and balls increased in severity, my enjoyment of it also increased. In many ways, it was as if I were being trained to accept such things as necessary to sexual arousal. Whatever the motivation, I did indeed come to need her rough treatment, and it always drove me to greater efforts in providing pleasure to her with my tongue and lips.

By the time Karin's due date was two months in the future, she had begun to actually slap my erect penis with the flat of her hands. She gave every indication of hating the thing, although the reaction it produced in her told me it was more lust than hatred that drove her to do those things to me. She seemed to reach higher levels of arousal as her efforts to punish me increased in intensity. I have to admit that her greater arousal acted to drive my own to a fever pitch. We seemed very well matched in that area.

When she was less than a month from giving birth to Abigail, my wife's treatment of my poor cock was almost frenzied in its intensity. At one point, she brought a wooden spoon to our bed, and while she sat on my face, she used it to strike my erection with increasing force as her excitement increased. By the time she reached her orgasm, I was sure the thing had been damaged beyond repair, but when I looked at it after she settled to the bed beside me, I saw it still quite hard, although criss-crossed with stripes and welts.

Her efforts seemed to concentrate on just my penis. She would squeeze, and sometimes lightly slap, my testicles, but never did anything beyond that. She obviously felt that my cock was the proper target for her abuses, and again I couldn't tell her any different. As I said before, I had come to love her attentions to that part of my body, and in my fantasies she did even worse things to it.

As her due date approached, her frenzies increased at the same rate as the size of her tummy. She had been using the spoon to punish me for less than a week when she said, as I bathed in preparation for bedtime, "Honey, we need to consider birth control after Abigail is born. I don't want to have another child. It's a long tradition in my family for the women to have one daughter, and that's what I want for myself. I've been thinking about what needs to be done to keep you from getting me pregnant again."

She had been sitting beside the tub as I soaked, idly fondling my genitals. My penis was as hard as it could get, and as her attentions became increasingly vigorous, it began to throb in time with my heartbeat. I wanted nothing more than for us to get in bed and to fill her pussy with my seed as soon as possible, because I knew that would mean she'd soon be riding my tongue and abusing my cock.

She seemed to need to talk then, so I decided the best course of action was to try to hold up my end of the conversation. I asked, "How do you want to do it? Do you want me to start wearing a condom again?" Deep in my heart, I was hoping she'd suggest that she start taking birth-control pills, since that would mean we could continue the type of lovemaking I'd come to love, and even crave.

She replied, "No. I won't make you do that. I know how much more you like sex when you're bare, so we don't need to go back to rubbers. If it's okay with you, I'll decide how we'll do it. How about if I promise you'll never have to wear one of those things again, but you let me choose the method. Would that be okay?"

Of course I would have agreed to anything she said by that point. All I could think of was the extreme arousal I was feeling, and the overwhelming need to satisfy it. She paused then, and spent a few moments trying to lift my body from the tub by pinching my cock head as strongly as she could with the fingers of both hands, and then pulling straight up with all her might.

When she tired of that, she continued, "There's something I need to do before you get out of the tub. I've always thought you'd look better without all that ugly hair on your crotch. I'm going to shave you while it's soft from soaking in the hot water."

As I sat there in surprise at this new turn of events, she reached into one of the cabinet drawers beside the tub and took out a pair of scissors, a can of shave cream, and a safety razor. It didn't occur to me then, but I know now that she had been planning to do that, since we didn't ordinarily keep scissors in the bathroom. I suppose that right then most of my brain was in my crotch, and I was reacting more than thinking.

She told me to stand in the tub facing her, and when I'd done so she used the scissors to trim my pubic hair as closely as possible. After applying a generous coating of the cream, she began to carefully shave me until I was as smooth as a newborn baby. She told me to sit down again, and then rinsed me thoroughly. She used a towel to dry me after I stepped out of the tub, and her extra attentions to my smooth crotch, as well as the new feel of fresh air against the skin there, had me right on the edge of cumming.

She took a small glass bottle from the drawer, held it out to me, and said, "I need for you to drink this, honey. It'll make things lots better for us tonight." I assumed it was some sort of aphrodisiac, and was too caught up in my sexual excitement to think rationally about it. I merely took the phial from her and drained it.

In the space of a few seconds, the contents of the bottle hit my stomach, and caught fire. I wouldn't have been surprised to see flames issuing from my mouth. Before I could say anything to Karin, the fire began to sink from my stomach to my crotch, and there it concentrated in my bouncing penis. I looked down at the thing, and saw it turn a bright red, and struggle to erect even more. The glistening drop of pre-cum grew in size, and began to drop towards the floor. I was sure I'd never in my life been so aroused, and had no thought other than getting to the bed as soon as possible.

Not a moment too soon, she took my hand to lead me out of the bathroom. I was sure we were heading for the bedroom, and was so impatient to get there that I almost dragged her along behind me.

As we approached the bedroom door, she whispered to me in a husky voice, "Let's do it in the kitchen tonight. I want this night to be something really different."

That would be different all right, but only in terms of the room we used for sex. Since her pregnancy had been confirmed, she had become much more desirous of sex, and we had fucked and sucked in every other room of the house, including the garage. We'd never before coupled in the kitchen, though, and the new "kink" seemed to make me even more aroused.

That she had been making preparations for this night was again demonstrated as we walked into the kitchen and she turned on the lights. The table we used for dining was nothing fancy, being a normal piece of furniture with a top and four legs. What was different was that tonight it had four pieces of rope tied to each leg, with the free ends coiled loosely on the floor.

Before I had time to question her, she said in a voice husky with emotion, "Stand against the end of the table and spread your legs." By then, I truly had no brains above my waist, and I obeyed her without any further thought. She knelt in front of me and used the ropes there to fasten my ankles to the table legs, then stood.

She used no words to tell me what to do next, merely placed one hand flat on my chest and pushed me backwards until my upper body was lying on the tabletop. My arms were then brought over my head, and the other two ropes were tied to my wrists. I was now her complete prisoner, but of course no ropes had ever been needed to make me that for all of our married life. I had been hers to use as she saw fit, and was no more or no less than that even when tied over the table.

She then began to roughly squeeze and stretch my balls, something she hadn't done before. I was not used to that sort of treatment there, and the new pain she was giving me reduced my ardor temporarily. In her husky voice, she said, "I need to get these out of the way, sweetie. I'll get back to your cock in a few seconds." She continued her efforts until satisfied my testicles were no longer interfering with her plans, then opened the drawer in the table.

Again her preparations were obvious, as she withdrew a boot lace from the drawer. She must have placed it in the drawer earlier, so it would be in readiness when needed. I soon forgot about the thing, for she laid it on my stomach and immediately began to concentrate her efforts on my penis, as I so much wanted her to do.

She pinched, pulled, and slapped the thing in the way she'd been doing for a few months by then, and it immediately responded by becoming once again as erect as possible. Its arousal was demonstrated by the way it bobbed around, as well as the pre-cum glistening at its tip. Once again I slipped into my brain-in-balls state of being, loving what she was doing to me, and hoping for more. That she was indeed going to give me more was evident.

She loosely wrapped the boot lace two times around the base of my cock, as close as she could get it to my balls. She whispered, "Make it as big as you can, sweetie. Show me how big you can make it." I used every possible resource of my body to force the last ounce of blood into my penis, hoping to please her by making the thing bigger than it'd ever been.

When she sensed there was no more to be gained, she jerked the ends of the lace with all her strength, then knotted them together. In a matter of seconds my manhood began to turn a bright red, and then darken to purple.

While I was staring at my rigid penis, she began to remove her clothing. Soon she was standing there completely naked, her swollen belly looming above that part of her that held all my concentration. If I hadn't been literally unable to speak, I would have begged her to please, please let me pleasure her. She was the most important thing in my life, and I lived for no other reason that to give her as much pleasure as possible.

She held her panties in one hand as she surveyed her preparations. Finally, drawing a deep breath, she wadded the underwear into a tight ball, spread her legs, and wiped the things along her slit. When she brought the panties forth, I could see her juices shining in the overhead lights, and knew she was just as aroused as I. Again I wanted to beg her to allow me to please her, but my throat was unable to utter more than a subdued moan.

She held the juice-covered panties to my mouth, saying nothing. No order was needed. I opened my mouth to its widest extent, and she shoved the wadded ball of cloth in place. Another boot lace from the drawer was then placed around my head and tied directly over my mouth, holding her panties in place.

She once again reached into the drawer. As I turned my head, I saw she was holding the wooden spoon in her hand. Again her emotion-laden voice came from her throat that was tight with lust, saying, "I need to tenderize you now, sweetheart. I had to gag you to keep your screams from scaring the neighbors. This might hurt more than usual."

She then extended the spoon to her side, gazed fixedly at her target, and swung it with all her might. I'm sure my cock was beginning to experience numbness by then, from the constriction of the string tied around it. That did nothing to lessen the agonizing pain that shot through my abdomen, though. As I fought to give voice to that agony, my eyes saw a white line appear where the spoon had struck my manhood. It quickly turned bright red, and then to a dark purple.

Almost before I had time to register the first blow, the second struck from the opposite direction. Again the horrible pain wracked my body, and the tears began to flow from my eyes. Through my blurred vision, I saw her again swinging the spoon, and tried to brace myself for the third blow.

I don't know how many times she beat my penis with her implement, but do know that when she finally stopped, I was nothing more than a pain-wracked animal. I could do nothing more than moan and groan, and fight for release by tensing my muscles against the restraints. Nothing helped give me relief, and over and over I fought against the unconsciousness that threatened to overtake me.

There was no way for me to measure time then, so I don't know how long it was before my eyes finally cleared enough to allow me to focus on Karin. She smiled as she saw awareness once again dawn in my eyes, then reached into the drawer. I stared in horror, terrified to think what other instruments of torture she may have there.

What she brought out was simple enough in appearance, and my befuddled brain could not fathom its use. It was nothing more than an aluminum rod, maybe a foot long, with an ordinary extension cord extending from one end. I was sure the thing was hollow, and that the wires ran down the inside, but had no way to confirm that guess.

Karin held the thing up so I could get a good look at it, then said, "Mamma gave me this when I told her I was pregnant with Abigail. She said she used it on Daddy right before I was born, and knew I'd be needing it in a few months. Looks like tonight's the night, doesn't it?"

I wanted to scream my question at her, but the balled-up panties in my mouth were as effective as if my tongue had been cut out. The only sound that issued from my throat was a long moan, interrupted by sharp intakes of breath through my nose.

I watch in horror as she lowered the thing to my ruined penis, and then very carefully pushed the end into my slit. The pre-cum that had been pushed through my penis by my arousal just minutes before now served as a lubricant. She twisted and pushed the thing deeper inside me, until finally it came to the part of my cock where the boot lace had been tied.

I stared at my crotch, seeing my very-erect penis standing there, turning darker by the second. The metal tube protruded from the head a few inches, and the electrical cord drooped downward before rising to my wife's hand, which was holding the end with the plug.

She smiled sweetly at me, but that smile was belied by the engorged nipples on her breasts, and the heaving of her chest. She was clearly very aroused as she thought of what was to come, and impatient to take the final step in my preparation for her enjoyment.

As I watched in terrified disbelief, she leaned down and inserted the plug in a nearby electrical socket. She straightened, then moved to stand once again between my widespread legs. She huskily whispered, "It won't take long, sweetheart." She then gripped my shaft and held her hand in place for a few seconds, finally saying softly, "It's getting warmer already. Can you feel it, honey?"

I was sure my cock was beyond any sort of feeling by that time, and indeed I could feel neither her hand nor any heat from the thing she'd shoved inside me. She smiled tenderly at me again, then said, "I'm going to call Mamma. I forgot to ask her how long it would take."

She picked up the nearby telephone, punched in a number, and waited for someone to answer. I heard only one half of the conversation, of course, but that part was enough to allow me to guess what her mother was saying.

Karin said, "Hi, Mamma. It's me. I needed to ask you something about the cooker you gave me."

"Yes, this is the big night. He's on the kitchen table, and the thing is plugged in. How long did it take with Daddy?"

"Good. That'll give me plenty of time to get the other things ready, then. How did you do it?"

"Well, I guess that makes sense. The thing does sort of look like a hot dog, doesn't it?"

"A nine-inch bun? You're kidding. I had no idea Daddy was that big. Ted's poor little thing would be lost in the smallest bun I could buy at the store. What did you put on it?"

"Oh, that sounds good. Except for the mustard, of course. You know I've never liked that stuff. The ketchup and relish would be fine, though."

"No, I think I'll just eat it in place. Seems so much more romantic that way, don't you think." She broke into laughter then, and I assumed her mother joined her.

She had been looking at my penis all the while, and said then, "It's already turning sort of a light-brown color. How much longer do you think I should wait before it's ready?"

"You mean it'll actually split open? I know when I bake wieners in the oven they do that, so I probably should have guessed. That'll make it easy to know when it's ready. Well, I'll let you go now. Something important has come up. Or I guess I should say it's been up for a long time now. That'd probably be more accurate." Again she laughed, then said good-bye and hung up the phone.

My eyes had been swiveling back and forth between her and my penis. The heat in the thing had finally become noticeable, and then had quickly grown to be almost unbearable. By the time she returned to me, I knew there could be no greater agony possible than what I was then feeling. I begged my body to lapse into unconsciousness, but somehow that never happened. I know now that the elixir I'd drunk in the bathroom was responsible for my remaining awake, and wish I had never done so. Unconsciousness would have been very welcome then.

As she and I gazed in fascination at my slowly-cooking penis, it continued to darken. Just as it reached a golden-brown color, a tiny crack appeared along the top. It quickly ran from the head to the base, widening by the second as I stared in horror. I looked to Karin for release, and saw that she had eyes only for what was happening to me. As she gazed fixedly, her tongue slowly licked her lips in anticipation.

At last, I heard her say, as if from a great distance, "It's ready now." She leaned down to unplug the cooker, and then pulled it from my cock. I could see bits of flesh stuck to the thing, but could feel no new agony. I knew it was dead then, and beyond saving.

Karin again reached into the drawer, this time bringing forth a bottle of steak sauce. She sprinkled some of the sauce on my cooked manhood, then untied and removed my gag. She used one of the kitchen chairs to get up on the table, then straddled my head, facing my crotch. She said simply, "Say hello to Abigail." Her pussy settled in its familiar place on my mouth, and my tongue moved by instinct to give her the pleasure she sought.

She leaned forward then, and while I ate her pussy, she returned the favor with my cock. I felt nothing but a slight tugging as she slowly consumed my once-proud manhood, and by the time she at last climaxed, I no longer felt even that.

At last she sat up once again, then carefully got down off the table. I stared in rapt fascination at where my cock had been only moments before, seeing nothing more than a tiny stub with the boot lace still wrapped tightly around it.

My brain had completely shut down by that point, and I felt nothing more than a slight curiosity as she once again held out a small bottle. When it touched my lips, I drank deeply. And that is my last memory of that night, which was the start of the rest of my life as my wife's eunuch.