Our Caribbean Anniversary, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As Chantal had promised, the fifth display was also based upon the application of heat to a man's genitals. The equipment was slightly different, though similar in some ways to the others we had already seen.

At the center of the display was a simple floor-to-ceiling post, which probably served the dual purpose of supporting the floor above. The center of the post was much different, in that a large pad had been affixed to it. There was a small table sitting beside the post, and I could see two pairs of handcuffs on it, plus some sort of metal device. I wasn't close enough to the table to see any details of the device, but I assumed our guide would explain it to us.

The third part of the exhibit was another type of heating device, and again I was reminded of a backyard barbecue. I could see what appeared to be a small ladle had been placed in the burned-out coals that remained from the previous use of this area.

The young woman waited until we had seen everything there, then began by saying, "This is my favorite of the three cooking areas. When I've explained what takes place here, I'm sure you'll agree that this method produces the best results."

"First, notice that the post has a large pad approximately three feet off the floor. In use, the man would stand with his back to the post and I would first handcuff his wrists behind it. I would then draw his ankles back, finally cuffing them behind also. He would then be secured there with his midsection sticking out in an almost obscene manner, looking for all the world as if he's begging me to torture his little things. Of course, I always oblige." At that, she and my wife both laughed. My own throat was completely locked up by then, and any sort of sound beyond a grunt was beyond my ability.

Chantal then picked up the metal device and approached us, saying, "This is the heart of this particular exhibit, and is a very specialized piece of equipment. I call it my crock pot, because it's a slow cooker." She then held the thing out so we could inspect it, and try to fathom its use.

What I saw was a very detailed fabrication, and guessed that it had been cast of molten metal. It was made in two parts, which were hinged together along the bottom edge. The most interesting aspect was the inner section of each half. I saw there a mold that could have been made by forming wax around a man's erection and sac. The mold had then been cast in metal and cut in half along its length, and each half formed the inner part of the two pieces. The outer part of the pieces was spaced about one inch away from the inner, with small metal posts used to maintain the separation.

She could see that we hadn't completely understood the use of the device, and said, "Allow me to demonstrate, if you will. May I use your husband?"

Sharon laughed softly, then said, "By all means. Use him as much as you like."

Chantal also laughed, then crouched in front of me. She placed the casting around my cock and balls, and then closed the two halves. There was a tiny latch that held them tightly locked, and my genitals were then completely trapped inside the device. I could see there was a large slot along the top of the outer shell, revealing the inner casting which was then imprisoning my penis.

The device was quite heavy, and I'm sure if she had removed her supporting hand, it would have pulled my penis straight down, even though it was harder than it'd ever been in my life. She seemed to sense my question then, saying, "Of course, in use a small chain runs from the front of the device to a hook in the ceiling. No man alive has a cock strong enough to support the thing, so I give him that assistance."

She then asked Sharon to get the ladle from the barbecue and bring it to her. As soon as my wife returned, she continued the demonstration by saying, "Now imagine that the ladle is filled with red-hot coals. I pour them into the slot in the top of the device, and then imagine what would happen to the contents of the inner casting."

There was a long silence then, and I'm sure my wife's brain was filled with visions very similar to mine. Although Chantal's "crock pot" was not filled with hot coals, I my fantasy the pain of my cock and balls being slowly cooked suffused my body. If any sort of stimulation had been applied to my penis at that moment, it would have released the pent-up load of cum that was boiling in my balls. As it was, the only effect was to increase my already overwhelming lust, to the point I was literally out of my mind. I'm sure that if I had been able to speak, I'd have begged to be allowed to light the fire that would shortly produce the coals.

After clearing her throat several times, Sharon at last asked, "You've actually done that? You've used that thing to cook a man's cock and balls?" Since she was standing so close to me, and was wearing a thin blouse, I could see that our guide was equally as aroused as my wife. The nipples of both women appeared to be as hard as diamonds, and were making obvious points in their clothing.

The young woman answered, saying, "Yes to both your questions. As I said, this is my favorite toy down here, and I use it as often as possible. The funnel I showed you at the last display does the cooking in just a few seconds, and not only is the whole thing over too quickly, the results aren't all that tasty. When I use the crock pot, the cooking can take several hours if I'm careful when adding the coals."

"You've probably heard the old wive's tale about boiling a frog. It says that if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, the poor creature will fight with all its strength to escape. However, if you put the frog in a pot of cool water, then slowly heat it to boiling, he'll be quite happy to remain there. That same thing applies to cooking a man's things. If I do it gradually, the man will never lose consciousness. He'll stay awake for the whole thing, and when I at last remove the cooker, his cock and balls will be completely cooked and very delicious."

Again my wife had to catch her breath and clear her throat before asking, "You can't be seriously saying what I'm hearing, can you? Do you mean you've really and truly eaten a man's things after cooking them?" She paused then, waiting for the answer, and I could hear her ragged breathing, as well as see her chest heaving. I was sure that her crotch was wetter than it'd ever been in her life, and that she was probably almost as aroused as I was.

Chantal smiled softly then, at last replying, "Yes, again. I think it's the highest and best use for a man's equipment. What better use to make of them than to provide nourishment to a woman? I think of it as man's destiny."

Sharon thought long and hard about that, seeming to at last come to agreement with the other woman's opinion. Finally she asked, in an almost dreamy voice, "What do they taste like?"

Again Chantal laughed before replying, "Virtually every woman who takes this tour asks that very same question, and I'm never able to answer it to their satisfaction. All I can say is that it reminds me very much of swordfish. Kind of fitting, don't you think?" After the two had shared quiet laughter, she continued, "The balls are exquisitely tender, and almost melt in my mouth. The shaft of the cock has a tendency to be much tougher, almost stringy, if it's not cooked for a sufficient amount of time. The head is my absolute favorite, though. Its texture and taste is beyond my ability to describe. You'd just have to try it to understand."

She then released her hold on the metal casting and walked behind my wife. Wrapping her arms around Sharon, the young woman began to caress her breasts through her blouse. The sharp intake of breath, coupled with her moan of pleasure, confirmed to me that Sharon was extremely aroused.

Chantal began nuzzling my wife's ear, all the time softly whispering, "He's ready now, and you can see that he wants it. We could bind him to the post and start the fire right now. In less than an hour, your questions would all be answered. Or if you'd like, we could leave him up there all night, and put just a few coals in every hour. It'd be the most tender, delicious thing you've ever eaten. Please say yes. If you let me do it to him, I'll give you the best orgasm of your life. Please."

It was obvious to me that my wife was actually considering the young woman's proposal. In my brain-dead state, I was truly wanting her to say "yes" just as much as I was wanting her to say "no." Finally she whispered, "It's almost more than I can resist. I know that what you say is true about him wanting it. He's been fantasizing for years about having his things removed, and this would be his dream come true. It would be so easy to just put him on the post and fill the thing with hot coals. I know it would be the most exciting thing I'd ever done, and I believe what you say about having the best orgasm of my life."

As I stood there with the weight of the cooker pulling my cock and balls toward the floor, and my brain in overload, I gasped for breath as I waited for my wife's answer. Finally she continued, "Not now. I want to see everything here first. Maybe the next section will be even more exciting than this one. Please don't think badly of me for not doing it to him." With that she turned her head, and the two women began to kiss passionately.

Upon breaking the kiss, Chantal whispered, "You're right. Maybe the next section will be just exactly what you want for him. We can always come back here later, if that's your decision." She then moved away from my wife and unlatched the device. As she removed it, she held it open so we could see the pool of pre-cum my cock had deposited in the mold.

She said in a disgusted tone of voice, "Just look at what the little wimp did. That simply turns my stomach."

Sharon agreed with her, then took the thing and held it out toward my face. She ordered, "Clean that up right now! How dare you make such a disgusting mess?! Lick it clean!"

I did not hesitate to obey her, and meekly lowered my head and began to run my tongue into the mold and lick up what I'd put there. After both halves were again clean, Chantal replaced the thing on the table and led us to the next section of the museum.

As we walked around the short piece of wall that separated the two areas, the next piece of equipment came into view. I stopped short, unable to walk, with my gaze transfixed by what stood before me. I knew immediately that what I was seeing was the ultimate turn-on for me, and I had spent countless hours collecting photos and stories of just this type of device. When I fantasized about being made a eunuch, it was this machine that was used to take my cock and balls from me.

As I tried to breathe through my tightly-constricted throat, my eyes traveled lovingly over the thing, lingering on each detail, as if trying to commit it to memory for all time. When the two women realized I was no longer following them, then turned and looked at me. Chantal broke into laughter, immediately followed by my wife. I'm sure the expression on my face was comical to them, but I wasn't feeling the slightest bit of humor.

After they regained their composure, Chantal said, "I think he's seeing something that fascinates him, don't you?" Sharon quickly agreed, saying, "No doubt about it. As I told you before, at least half the pictures and stories he's saved are centered on this device. It's probably the answer to his prayers."

I was barely able to hear their comments, since my total being was focused on what stood before me. Again my eyes were drawn downward, where I saw two grooved metal rails fastened to the floor. They seemed to draw my gaze upward, to where the tops of the rails were fastened to the ceiling. Again my eyes were drawn downward, and this time they stopped about three feet off the floor, where a metal plate, about one foot wide, had been placed between the rails, which were two feet apart. After noting the small hole that had been drilled in the center of the plate, my gaze once again rose, stopping momentarily at the single handcuffs that were attached to each rail about six feet off the floor. Again my eyes rose to the ceiling, and I stared in fascination at what was hanging there, between the rails.

It was probably the largest, sharpest, heaviest blade I'd ever seen, and its slanted cutting edge gleamed in the reflected light. When my brain again allowed me to take in details, I noted the rope that had been tied through a hole in the top of the blade, then run through a pulley even higher up. The rope then ran down at an angle to where it was wrapped around a large metal pin that had been attached to one of the rails, about five feet above the floor. The remainder of the rope then dangled loosely all the way to the floor.

I knew immediately that this was a penis guillotine, and it was deadly serious in design, unlike some of the fakes I'd seen on the Internet. There was no doubt in my mind that if the blade were released, it would travel downward, not slowing at all as it passed through whatever was protruding through the hole in the plate. I don't know that it was possible to increase my arousal and lust any more by that time, but it seemed to me that the guillotine had that effect.

Chantal turned to my wife then, and softly asked, "Do you know what it is?" Sharon answered, "Yes. I've read some of the stories he's downloaded, and looked at most of the photos. There's no question in my mind that it's a penis guillotine. That's what it is, isn't it?"

The young woman replied in a soft voice, "Yes, that's exactly what it is. However, it's more than that. This particular machine can serve a dual purpose also. Let me show you what I mean."

She then walked over to the guillotine and stood behind the plate. Her hand reached out and seemed to move something there, and I saw the hole, which had been about two inches in diameter, suddenly expand to almost twice that size. She explained, "This has an attachment that works like the lens in a camera. If I pull the lever one way, the hole gets larger. If I move it the other way (which she did in demonstration), the hole get smaller. The size can be adjusted for removal of just his penis, or of his testicles at the same time. Very efficient."

Sharon seemed as fascinated with the machine as I was, and it seemed to require a great deal of effort for her to tear her eyes from it and look at me. She said softly, "Honey, this could be the anniversary present both of us have wanted for a long time. I know you've dreamed of being here for many years, and I've been doing the same ever since finding your special files. It could be a dream come true for both of us. I want it so bad I can hardly stand it, and I'm sure you feel the same. Let's do it."

Again I was unable to speak, and almost unable to even breathe. With no conscious thought on my part, my head began to nod, and I saw the most loving smile ever break across Sharon's face. She was barely able to whisper a heartfelt, "Thank you."

She then turned to Chantal, and in a husky voice said, "It's what we both want. Can we do it right now?"

The young woman said, in an equally emotional voice, "He has to be prepared first. As I had mentioned in one of my letters, we're fortunate to have a medical clinic next door to the museum. The doctor will come here to supervise when your husband is nullified, but I have to call him first. It usually takes about half an hour for him to arrive. In the meantime, we must shave your husband's crotch. That will make it easier for the doctor to do the necessary repair work afterwards."

She hesitated then, finally saying earnestly, "You must be absolutely sure you want to do this. Afterwards will be too late to have second thoughts. There is no place on the island that has the facilities to sew his things back in place once they're removed, so you must be convinced it's the right thing to do. I don't mean to sound hesitant, because if it were up to me, he'd already be cuffed in place, with his little things sticking through the hole. It's just that it's a very important step, so you need to be sure."

Sharon did not hesitate at all before replying, "You can see that he wants it more than anything else in the world, so there's no question there. As for myself, I truly believe it will be a good thing. From now on, I won't need to worry about giving him sexual relief, or worry that he'll give away private information on some pornographic Website. In terms of sex, that's also no problem. I've had lovers for several years now, and will continue to do so. Maybe now I'll have my present lover move in with us, so that I'll actually get more sex than ever before."

I had thought that nothing could shock me, but my wife's casual statement that she'd had lovers, and continued to do so, caused me to almost pass out. As I grasped the implications of her saying that maybe she'd have a man move into her bedroom, I could feel the blackness begin to overtake me.

I was jerked back to my senses by a strong slap to my face. When my eyes focused again, I saw my wife lowering her hand. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard her say sharply, "Don't you dare pass out on me! I want you awake so you can enjoy every second of this. After all, it's because of you that we're here. I've gone to a lot of trouble to make your dreams come true."

She then turned to Chantal and said, "Make the call. Let's get him ready. My pussy is so damned hot it feels like it's on fire. The more I think about his useless little things sticking through that hole, and the blade falling toward them, the hotter I get. Please hurry!"

Chantal's only response was, "Follow me." She then led the way to another door, which she opened and held for us. Inside was a simple examination table, average in every way except for the small rope that dangled over the center of it.

As soon as we had entered, our guide said, "Get him on the table. I'll call the doctor." She then walked to a telephone mounted on the wall and dialed a number. After a few seconds, she said, "It's me. We're ready for you as soon as you can get here. We'll be using the guillotine." After listening for a few seconds, she replaced the phone and turned to us. "The doctor will be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm going to go unlock the door between here and the basement of the clinic. I'll be right back." She hurried from the room, leaving me in a state of shock at how quickly things were moving.

When Chantal returned less than a minute later, I was lying on the table. My cock was bobbing back and forth faster than ever, and to say that it was dripping pre-cum would have been an understatement. There was already a small pool of the stuff on my stomach, and as my penis moved, it trailed a spiderweb of sticky fluid.

Chantal wasted no time in taking a pair of scissors from a drawer. She directed my wife to trim my pubic hair as closely as possible, then turned once again to the drawer. I watched in fascination as Sharon used the scissors with trembling hands, even then fantasizing about her using them to unman me.

As soon as my bush was trimmed, Chantal applied a generous amount of shave cream to my crotch. She told Sharon that since she was experienced in using a straight razor, she'd do the shaving. They both laughed when she said, "After all, you wouldn't want to slip, and make him miss his appointment with the guillotine, would you?" My wife agreed, and then watched eagerly as I was expertly shaved.

Just as the final hair had been removed, and the excess shave cream wiped off, the door opened. A man, obviously of African extraction, entered the room. It was difficult for me to judge his age, but I guessed him to be a few years older than my mid-forties. He greeted Chantal in a booming voice, and gave her a lover's hug and kiss. He then turned to my wife and waited while the young woman made the introductions. At no time did anybody acknowledge my presence, which was just fine with me. I doubt that I could have spoken at all by that time, and my total concentration was on my soon-to-be-realized fantasy of meeting the guillotine.

The man hugged Sharon just as affectionately as he had Chantal, then asked, "Did you explain the fees to her?"

Chantal answered, "I told her there would be a $2,000 charge for medical services, but I didn't tell her that you offered discounts in return for services rendered. I wanted her to see how handsome you are before I told her about that."

She then turned to my wife and said, "The doctor will reduce his fees by $500 if you'll agree to give him oral sex during the week it'll take your husband to recover. If you'll have protected sex with him for that week, he'll knock $1,000 off the original amount. If you'll let him fuck you bare, he'll charge you only $500, which will cover his expenses, but not much more. It's always sounded like a pretty good deal to me, but the choice is up to you."

Sharon had obviously been expecting the $2,000 charge, but the information about the discounts was surprising to her. She was very flustered for a few moments, then said to Chantal, "Maybe if you showed me what I'd get, I could make a more-informed decision."

The young woman smiled, then without saying a word dropped to her knees in front of the doctor. She unzipped his trousers and reached through the opening. Like all white men, I was brought up to believe that blacks have monstrous cocks, but what I saw then was not one of them. It was already semi-hard due to Chantal's handling, and I could tell that it would definitely be larger than mine, but certainly no monster.

Chantal continued fondling the tool until it was able to stand unassisted, then turned to my wife with a questioning look on her face. Sharon must have been of a different opinion than I, because she was staring unabashedly at the penis, her tongue continuously darting over her lips. After a short pause, she smiled at the pair and said, "I don't think it'll be a problem to do whatever he wants. Is it okay if I suck him off and then fuck his bare cock? That's what I do with my lover, and it's always seemed right for me."

He said in his bedroom voice, "That would be quite acceptable, my dear. Just give me about half an hour between, so I can build up a new load for you." The three then laughed together, before once again directing their attention to me.

Chantal was the first to speak then, and she said, "Now that it's settled, let's get him tied off. Sharon, we'll lift his midsection while you tie the cord around the base of his cock and balls. Make it as tight as you can, because it might hurt him if it slipped off." Again they laughed at the thought that anybody would be worried about hurting my genitals, in light of what they were about to do to me in the other room.

The doctor and Chantal placed their hands under my butt and lifted it about one foot off the table. My wife wrapped the cord tightly around my things, then doubled the loop. After pulling it as tightly as possible, she tied it off.

With no warning, the pair withdrew their supporting hands, and my midsection fell for a few inches before I could tense my muscles. My poor cock and balls were stretched far above my body, and I'm sure that if my lust hadn't been so great, I'd have felt a great deal of pain. As it was, the only thing I felt was a dull ache deep in my abdomen as my spermatic cords were stretched.

Chantal then took a short length of wire and a pair of pliers from the drawer. She handed the wire to Sharon, instructing her to double wrap it tightly behind the rope. After that had been done, and the ends twisted together, the pliers were used to tighten the wire to the point that it sank out of sight in my flesh. The doctor then pronounced me ready, except for one last thing.

He took a stethoscope out of the drawer, using it to listen to my heartbeat for a few seconds. He then smiled, pronounced me "fit as a fiddle," and untied the rope. As soon as my body fell to the tabletop, they helped me to stand. My wife then placed one hand on my cock, gripping it as roughly as she could. She said, "This is the last time you'll ever feel anything with this little thing. I can't wait to see it hit the floor. Come on!" With that, she led me quickly from the room, and towards the waiting guillotine.