After an uncharacteristic month of zero correspondence from her, one Tuesday I excitedly opened her re: Meeting email. I had passed her security tests and she agreed to meet with me in her hotel room the following week. She provided the address and I spent the time leading up to our meeting unsuccessfully trying to focus on professional interests. I could not recall ever having such “butterflies” leading up to a date. She seemed so strong yet, would I discover a vulnerability, uncover a closely guarded button that maybe even she secretly suspected I might find, and push? Or was I walking into a well-strategized castration, ending up as yet another set of testes in a jar and story on the Archive? Both possibilities made me tingle. I certainly was not mentally prepared to lose my balls, but visions of it happening without time to prepare felt more intoxicating than scary.

I could scarcely hold a thought in my head as I followed the GPS north on the Jersey Turnpike. I arrived early but respected her time and sat in my car waiting for the email light to blink on my Blackberry. My swollen cock leaked pre-cum yet I had done nothing more than absently touched myself through my dress slacks sitting there staring at the phone. It blinked. The email read, “Rm 407.” I jumped out, locked my car, took the elevator to the fourth floor, and straightened the knot of my necktie before walking to the end of the hall and, hesitating a moment, knocked.

The door opened wide enough to allow entry yet she must have stood behind the door. I took the invitation and entered, slowly looking left. A pixie with delicate, well-defined angular facial lines and upturned green cat eyes disguised in ridiculous swaths of whore-blue eyeliner. As I looked down into the depths of her memorial eyes, I thought only of them -- and of her. No smile. “Consider the make-up a mask,” she said, with the slightest trace of Southern accent. It was the way she pronounced her letter “A” that betrayed her Texas roots. A simple white blouse and black pencil skirt hung three inches above her knees. Absolutely perfect. Small pert breasts, thin waist, thin hips and legs. Like a little school girl. I felt a tingle down there. Instinct forced my gaze away from her, quickly scanning the room. She had plain white candles burning on every flat surface of the large, comfortable room, atop the dresser, on the night stands, the desk, even the bathroom. I supposed that in shadow is where she would remain, that never would she trust me to see her delicate face scrubbed clean which I truly wanted. Her eyes held me as she walked to a large chair, sat down, and kicked aside the ottoman. “Come,” she said motioning to the empty place where the footstool had sat.

“Remove my shoe and suck my left big toe, just like you begged for,” she said. I slipped off her Jimmy Choo reptile high heel and beheld her tiny, smooth foot for a moment before eagerly engulfing her toe against the inquisitive warmth of my tongue. Sitting cross-legged before her using both hands I supported her ankle with my left hand and massaged her tender sole with my right. She never once closed her eyes or gave any indication she was even feeling let alone enjoying it. I did notice her breathing change, and soon after she slid down her panties; I removed her other shoe and then slipped the panties off completely.

“You may only lick my pussy, no hands, keep them where I can see them,” she said. Getting on my knees, hands flat against the floor, slowly I kissed my way first up her right inner thigh then her left, catching the slightest whiff of aroused musk. It was dark as a cave under her skirt. She slid down a bit in the chair and spread her legs to give better access. In the flickering candlelight I saw the neatly shaved form of her outer and inner lips. I even detected the subtle glisten of moisture. My eyes adjusted. Immediately I crashed my head eagerly into her sex, sniffing and tasting like a condemned man’s last meal. Her breathing changed again and as I swirled my tongue against her now very self-lubricated sex and clit, she grabbed my hair and pulled my face even tighter against her slick, fragrant folds to the point where I could not properly breathe. Then she came. Hard. Gradually she loosened the grip on my hair but I chose to remain where I was. Until she put her bare right foot against my Armani dress shirt and shoved me back so hard I landed on my ass, startled.

“Thanks,” she said. “Now go.” Obviously to me, here was a woman who said what she meant and meant what she said; without a word I rose, straightened my tie, turned and walked out. I was somewhat bewildered by the meeting but overpowering all thought was my arousal. I could tell my boxer-briefs were soaked. I got in the car, unzipped my pants, unearthed my cock and balls, put a white McDonald’s napkin over the tip, and stroked myself into a powerful creamy orgasm into the napkin. Once home I struggled with whether or not I should wash her essence from my face.

I knew not to contact her. Seven weeks of silence ensued, as I masturbated every chance I could get, even in the men’s room at work. I found this constant level of arousal both distracting and yet novel, as I had never experienced such a heightened sexual state before. Finally an email reply with identical instructions as before. Again I drove but this time to a different North Jersey hotel and after knocking, the door opened. Her outfit was much the same as last time, leading me to wonder if she wasn’t attempting to de-identify herself through consistent imaging, so that if I ever saw her in any different outfit and normal make-up I would never see through this disguise. Again, I tasted her divine warmth and again she came with a shudder. This time as I rested my cheek against her inner thigh, I gathered my courage, removed my head from under her skirt, looked her square in the eye and asked, “Could I possibly interest you in some conventional sex?”

She pulled on her panties and stood over me as I knelt gazing up with pleading eyes, I’m sure. “I have a strict policy of never fucking unless I know the guy really well, or right before a nutting,” she announced. She stroked her chin. “Cutting guys gets me super horny, the build-up, knowing the death of his balls is inevitable. I can’t really explain why but it just does. And I don’t know you so get out.” Again I wordlessly returned to my car and jerked out another strong climax before driving home.

The third time Thecia emailed an invitation was five months after this meeting. Everything the same except the hotel address. As my lips and tongue drove her to that point we all know that, once crossed, the process of climax cannot consciously be shut off – and she yanked my head away from her and closed her legs. After catching her breath she looked down at me. I asked what’s wrong. And she replied, “I liked it. Almost came. But right now I find what I want most is to feel cock up inside me.”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve never wanted to put my cock inside someone more than I want to put in you.”

She shook her head. “You know the rules. Either I know you or I cut you right after. I don’t know you nor do I want to. So I’m going to go call up a local guy friend who also sometimes serves as fuck-buddy. Now get going,” she said with the usual tone of finality.

“No, not this time. I am not leaving,” I said, standing. “I’m about to fuck you silly. You know me just fine,” I said while loosening my belt and pulling down my zipper. She just sat there apparently amused, not moved at all by my forceful tone and actions. When I jerked down my underwear my cock sprang out so hard it glanced off my abs before settling to a position of jutting straight out. Wordlessly I moved between her legs, my left hand against her chest pinning her back against the chair, my right hand aiming my long hard weapon at her glistening netherlips. In one aggressive thrusting movement, suddenly over six inches of throbbing manpole disappeared inside her. She gasped. Her pussy felt so, so tight. I’ve fucked virgins whose vaginal muscles could not compare to this woman’s. Slowly but surely she wrapped her legs around my back and ass, driving me deeper, goading me to thrust faster and harder into her wet silk secrets. Just as her levator ani muscle clamped down on my cock as she came, I gave in and climaxed. At least a full ounce of warm cream filled her sweet recesses and I groaned. We stayed like that a moment until again she used her right foot to push me away.

“Strip,” she commanded. I obeyed, standing naked before her. She rose, opened a sports bag and showed me prison-style leg/wrist metal restraints, smiling as she snapped them into place. To this she attached one end of a long chain with one combination padlock to my shackles, the other end she affixed to the bed leg with a second padlock. Testing the chain I found I could hobble to the toilet which I did. I had to sit down to pee as she watched, and it took a few minutes for me to sufficiently relax start the flow. Finished, I hobbled back to her as she pulled down the sheet and blanket. “You’ve had your pee, now get in bed. I’ll just freshen up a bit then I’ll join you,” she said, pushing me down onto the bed. After brushing her teeth she slipped in beside me, put her arms around me, and grasped my balls in her right hand. “You fucked me. So now you owe me these boys,” she said, gripping tightly. “In the morning I’ll cut you. Now, let’s get some sleep.” I was stunned. I started to get out of bed and she just smiled as I searched as far as the chain would allow, in an arc, looking for the padlock keys.

“You won’t find them,” she assured me, patting my side of the bed. “You know. Rules are rules.” As I sunk into the pillow her hand again resting on my balls, I sensed from her breathing she had fallen asleep. My head spun with nervousness. I knew she meant it. And I did not want to lose my balls. I had to find a way out. But she just looked so delicious bathed in candlelight, her wirey arms and shoulder capturing my imagination. I kissed her cheek and she awoke. With a few delicate hand movements she brought me around to another throbbing erection. She would not let it go to waste, slipping under the sheets and sucking me aggressively until I begged her to let me fuck her. She flipped me on my back, straddled me, then slipped her tight silk envelope down over my shaft guiding me in with her right hand. She rode me until again we climaxed together. Relaxing completely, she pressed her tiny breasts against my chest and fell asleep with me still inside her. I too dozed off.

I awoke hours later still in the same position. She was just coming out of the bathroom, stark naked and holding an elastrator loaded with a rubber donut. She eased my sack through the open jaws and band, then grasped and yanked down very hard before releasing the rubber donut tightly around the base of my scrotum. I gasped. She repeated it, snapping another donut up close to my body, leaving a pencil-thin inch long area of tweezed flesh between the bands. I said, “Thecia please, I’m begging you. Let me out of this. Spare me! You seemed to really enjoy our lovemaking; do you really want all future possibilities to end right here?”

Not smiling she said, “What was about ‘I don’t know you nor do I want to’ didn’t you get? Within a few minutes your entire ball-filled sack will end up in that jar,” she said pointing to the desk, “and you will never see them or me again. But I will give you one last memorable cum.” With that she straddled my head facing my feet, grabbed a scalpel from a small case, and proceeded to hoover my cock once again. Her pussyjuice ran down my cheeks, went deep into my nostrils. I fought against my restraints and I fought against climax. I figured if I could prevent it, she might not cut me. If I somehow refused to cum she would get frustrated, maybe get off me long enough for me to find a way out. My balls started to hurt something awful, but she soothed them with her delicate hands, playfully batting them around as she slurped away. Her intoxicating scent, her feet clamped against my cheeks, her treatment of my cock and balls all blended into a state of arousal so intense that all pain in my balls turned from numb to actual pinpoints of pleasure from deep within. All control lost. I started to cum in her mouth.

Just as the second wave hit, I felt a sharp sting in my balls, not terribly painful. All I could see was her pussy as she ground down hard, cutting off my air and making my own orgasm seem to feel more intense and last longer than any previous. She came in wet waves, flooding my nose and mouth with her sweet nectar. After a minute or so she dismounted. Then I saw it. The space where my sack used to hang was nothing but a rubber-bound bloody nub. She showed me my sack and for the first time since I’d met her, she smiled. I screamed bloody murder then passed out. I awoke in a hospital E.R. with no recollection of how I got there or why. Then the reality of my situation closed around my brain like a vice.

Looking back, I can say with all confidence - it was worth it. I’m less distracted, more able to focus, and mellower today than I was before I met her. Whenever I do have sexual thoughts, my mind returns to that night in her arms. The last woman I will ever love.