Thecia's Phantom Pair

The only person in my normal day to day life who knows what I do is my girlfriend Leslie. We grew up together in small town Texas. She went on to run a very successful business in the northeast. I became what I am, a 30 year old female "cutter". I also do very boring pipe design on a computer at my "day job".

Leslie called me at home as she often did to chew the fat. We are the same age and we have a lot in common. We discuss "girl stuff", boy friends and so on.

This time she told me that she had a problem with her live in guy. His name was Bob, and he was a control freak.

I knew that, as strong as she was, she was afraid of him. It seems that he had left his e-mail account open on the second computer in the house. She noticed it and read the opened mail. It contained meeting times and places with prostitutes. Some very explicit requests were also on the notes.

She told me that he hadn't touched her sexually in almost a year and he never let her go down on him.

A strange picture emerged from her investigations. In his mind, he felt that only a tramp would do those things and she was his and he couldn't let her do it. From the professionals he required oral sex, anal sex and some S&M.

He was involved with four or five hookers a week. She told me that after what she learned; she would never be with him again. I said "so do you want him cut?" "I'm in!!."

She said that she couldn't live with having that done, but, was there a way to put the fear of god into him. My first thought was to have "Digger" reach into his bag of shadowy contacts and have the guy "Tuned Up".

A second idea began to form in my devious little mind.

Her guy "Bob", spent almost every Friday night in front of the TV drinking several perfect V.O. Manhattans. I told Leslie that I had an idea and I promised not to "cut" him.

I asked Digger to make up one of his famous "Mickeys" in a V.O. bottle. As usual he was glad to help. Usually I give him a cut of what ever I get paid for these kind of things. But, I told him that this was a favor for a friend, and that it didn't involve a cutting.

I flew into JFK and rented a car. They live near Providence RI, but, do to my paranoid nature, I didn't want to fly into an airport near them. Before I made my way to New England, I took a detour to a deer farm on Long Island. I have a friend that worked with me at a vets office years before. He was now the veterinarian at the farm. They raised the deer for venison. He had just cut several bucks and had what I wanted. I took one of my peanut butter jars; this one filled with brine and not the usual formaldehyde and popped a freshly cut set of deer balls in.

I then started the long drive to Providence. I rented a motel room some distance away and had Leslie pick me up. When we got to the house he was already ensconced on the sofa watching TV. He had eaten dinner with Leslie before she left to pick me up. At least one Manhattan was gone, possibly more. Leslie introduced me as Cindy, a neighbor and friend..

I had my "Blonde floozy" outfit on. Wig, falsies, too much make up and all. He looked me up and down, almost drooling, like a dog would look at a raw steak. Leslie asked me if I'd like a drink and asked Bob if he wanted a refill. I told her a little white wine would be nice and Bob said he wanted another Manhattan. She made the Manhattan with a generous portion of Digger's modified V.O.

It took about forty minutes for the potion to work. Bob said, "I don't feel well, I'm gonna hit the sack." Leslie helped him into the bedroom and got him into bed. As he lolled halfway between awake and asleep, I slipped the already tied nooses on each wrist. With Leslie’s help and a couple of quick pulls we had him immobile. I used more rope to make for a more secure condition and smiled at my handy work.

He was upset now and trying to see through the drug induced blur. Leslie said the words as I had rehearsed her. "Cindy is here to cut your cheating balls off." I had seen the ensuing look before, his rage and confusion turned to fear. I made a show of setting out my scalpel and instruments.

Just to keep to my normal routine, I put on my plastic lined velvet glove and began to milk him. I didn’t want to give this guy the pleasure of cumming, but I did want him to think it was the last time. I tore open his boxers and pulled his half-hard and uncut cock out in the open. It grew to a respectable size almost at once. I held his big balls in one hand and jerked him with the other. I told him that this would be the last time and when he came, I would “nut” him. I could tell that he was holding back, but when he got close I just pressed on his prostate and it was over. First a drop, then a stream. It was a funny moment, Leslie was watching on the other side of the bed when he popped off. The first stream shot a full three feet and left a rope of cum right across her carefully preened blonde hair. I laughed, but she didn’t see the mirth in it. Again, I told him, I hoped that was a good one for you, because it’s your last.

I carefully washed my hands, "gloved up," with regular surgical gloves and began. I used my scalpel to cut his remaining clothes off. His big cock, as I mentioned, was uncut and his balls were of respectable size. I shaved his sack and inner thighs. I liberally applied alcohol (not betadine as I wasn’t really going to cut) and prepared in my normal manner.

I got a needle out and again made a show of it, filling it with the anesthetic. I shot two needles in to his groin, near the attachment point of his right and left ball cords, and another two below his sac. All of this time he was fighting so much that I almost missed my target. I finally told him, "Stop squirming, or I'll cut your little cock off too." That stopped the wiggling some.

I reached below his sight line and picked up the Ice cube we had placed in a bowl on the floor. I pointed to the scalpel and smiled at Leslie, but she shook her head no. I was ready to really slice this bastard, but she wouldn’t let me.

I stretched out his nut sack and made a pseudo incision with the ice cube. As I did, I told him "I've sliced your sack open." It must have felt like it to him, because he audibly gasped. I kept up the "blow by blow" announcements as I proceeded. "I've got your left nut out now". I pulled on the left one and using a small nail scissors I snipped a piece of surgical tubing. The sound of the clipping was quite audible. I said, "that's one" I took a sterile pin and said "I'm going to sew that slit up now.” I pricked him with the pin as though I was sewing.

I then took another Ice cube and "slit" the other side of his sack. I repeated the procedure, pulling on his ball and snipping the plastic tubing. As I "sewed" up the last slit. I held up the deer balls by their cords and said, "Here's your nuts, Bob."

He looked at them and fainted dead away. Leslie wet his face with a wet towel and slapped him. He opened his eyes, and I again hung the balls in front of his face. This time he threw up, the vile smell of old booze permeated the room.

I packed up my bag, put the deer nuts in the jar (out of his sight) and we left. Leslie left with me, never to return to that house. She did leave him a note. She said that if he tried to follow, Cindy would really have his nuts. When we left him tied there, he fully believed that I had his balls in my jar.

She never wanted to see him again. I on the other hand hoped he would follow her. I wanted those fat juicy balls in my peanut butter jar.