Drunk

Heavy CBT and alcohol don't mix!

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They knew they had both
had far too much to drink as
he fumbled with the keys to
the apartment, snickering,
and as she fumbled
laughingly with the fly of his
jeans. The door suddenly
burst open and they stumbled
in, nearly falling, which
made them both laugh even
harder. Somehow in the dark
they managed to get to the
bedroom, where as he
flipped on the lights she gave
him a push, and they both
fell onto the bed in hysterics.

Somehow she drunkenly
managed to remove his jeans
and underpants, and instantly
clamped her mouth around
his stiff penis, sucking and
biting with her front teeth,
making him gasp with the
pain and pleasure. Then,
without warning, she
falteringly stood up, went
over to her dresser, opened
the top drawer and
rummaged in it for a few
seconds, and smilingly held
up four large scarves. Still
giggling, she managed make
four very good knots with
them to tie him
spread-eagled to the
bedposts.

Wriggling out of her jeans
and panties - she knew she
wasn't coordinated enough at
the moment to take off her
shirt - she stood next to him.
"Can look but can't touch,"
she slurred teasingly. Then
she looked quizzically at
him. "Do you - do you still
want me to beat up your ...
your cock and balls?" She
looked down at his helpless,
exposed penis and scrotum.
"'Cause ... 'cause right now
it'd really turn me on."

His heart pounded faster.
He'd sometimes ask her to,
but she was always pretty
nervous about it; the most
she felt she could do - sober
- was to lightly slap his
testicles. So he'd always
fantasized about this ... what
could he say? "Oh, yes,
baby, please," he managed to
say.

She grinned and noticed his
penis was already beginning
to stir at the very idea. "Can
I beat you as hard as I want
to?" 

"You can do *anything* you
want to me."

"OK, then - you wait here
'till I get back." She
staggered toward the kitchen,
and after a few minutes
found the items she was
looking for: the heavy, metal
flashlight, the mea
tenderizing mallet, and the
large meat cleaver - she
paused, why a knife? But,
shrugging, she picked it up
anyway. Ready to return to
the bedroom, she spied a
bottle of spiced rum in an
open cabinet, and took that
too.

His penis was stiff and
looked so delicious lying
against his tummy. She
dropped her tools next
to him on the bed and took a
quick swig of rum. "So I
don't lose my nerve," she
explained, and giggling,
poured half the bottle over
his genitals and then attacked
them, biting and licking and
gulping the liquor from his
hard penis and taut scrotum.

Taking another swig, she sat
on the bed next to him and
started to slowly stroke the
penis. With every upward
stroke she tightened her grip
on it until she was squeezing
it as hard as she could. As
she watched, a drop of
pre-cum welled up from the
hole at the tip of the organ,
and she bent down to lick it
off. Swallowing it, she
squashed the glans between
the fingers of both her hands
and felt it resist slightly as it
flattened. She squeezed with
all the power in her hands
and watched as it reddened,
then slowly turned purple in
her grip. She tried to insert
her pinky finger down the
hole, but the hole was too
small. She released the penis
head and watched as it
quickly turned from purple
back to dark pink.

Then, she lifted up her right
hand, made sure he was
watching as she made a fist,
and slammed it with force
squarely into his scrotum.

She saw his pelvis jump and
at the same instant felt his
testicles compress slightly
within the scrotum as her fist
smashed them. They felt
hard, but rubbery and
springy, and it dawned on
her that smashing her fist
against them felt good. So
she did it again. Then again.
And again. And again.

By this time he was yelling,
but she ignored it. She was
amazed to see that the penis
was still erect - in fact, it
was even harder now than
before. She took it in her left
hand and said, "So I guess
you're enjoying this?" He
managed to croak out a yes.
She cupped his scrotum in
her right hand and rolled the
testes around. They were
getting very swollen, and she
liked the way it looked. "Too
hard?" she asked.

"No," he gasped.

"Harder?" He nodded.

She took the heavy flashlight
and brought it down on the
scrotum with force. She
could see his balls flatten
slightly as they were struck.
He screamed, and she
brought it down on his
tender scrotum again even
harder. It crashed down
again, and again, and the
testicles were now
swollen to over twice their
original size. As she looked
over his testicles, she began
to slowly stroke the fully
erect penis once again,
holding it upright. Then,
without warning, she brought
the flashlight down on the
top of the glans. It flattened
out agreeably, with much
more give than the testes, but
sprung back up into shape
almost as fast. She swung the
flashlight at the head of the
penis five more times, each
time with greater force, and
noticed finally amid his yells
that the glans was also
starting to swell terribly. She
could also see a deep
crimson spot at the tip of the
glans - a bruise was
beginning to form.

Suddenly she realized that
she was incredibly aroused,
and felt her wetness start to
leak out of her. A strange,
primal feeling she had never
experienced made her head
spin. She managed to spit
out not a question, but a
statement of fact: "I'm going
to ruin - I'm going to destroy
your penis."

He moaned "Yes, please
destroy it, please ruin it,
please kill my penis," but she
barely heard him. She picked
the tenderizing mallet. It was
very heavy, flat on one side,
with sharp spikes on the
other. Practically in a trance,
she began tenderizing the
penis head with the flat side.
Over and over, with every
ounce of her energy, she beat
the glans ten, then twenty
minutes, smashing the penis
with the mallet every few
seconds. She watched as the
bruises under the skin of the
glans enlargened, multiplied,
and spread until the glans
was an unhealthy-looking
purplish color. By the time
twenty minutes had passed,
the glans was no longer
springing back into shape
with each blow as it had
before. A trickle of blood
mixed with pre-cum oozed
from the hole at the tip.
Amazingly, however, the
penile shaft stayed as hard
and erect as ever, and he had
stopped screaming was
moaning fitfully. 

She now flipped the mallet
over to the side with the
spikes and grasped the dying
penis firmly. "Say goodbye
to your penis," she
commanded him. When he
failed to respond, she yanked
his member upward and
demanded loudly "Tell your
penis *goodbye!*"
"Goodbye, penis," he
responded weakly, and she
brought down the mallet.

The glans was soon covered
with tiny pricks, each oozing
blood. Looking at her
handiwork - it was obvious
that the penis would never
again function - she had the
most powerful orgasm of
her life. In the throes of it,
she bent over the ruined
penis and began to yank it
up and down, jacking it more
viciously than ever before.
And then - as she came, so
did he. The penis violently
ejaculated spurt after spurt of
semen, pink-tinged with
fresh blood, onto her face as
he groaned loudly with
release. His orgasm caught
her, still spasming from her
own, completely by surprise,
and although she hated when
he came on her face, she
couldn't move out of the
way of the spurting semen,
couldn't move at all except in
orgasm.

Slowly she came to her
senses as she tasted semen
slowly dripping into her
mouth. She stopped yanking
the drooping, spent, bloody
sack of flesh that once was
her lover's penis. Without
any hesitation - even to wipe
the semen from her face -
she picked up the meat
cleaver and severed his
destroyed penis at the base.
He made no sound save for a
quick gasp. Ignoring the
blood pooling quickly from
his wound, she displayed the
severed penis proudly to
him. Separated from his body
and drained of blood, it
seemed small and
insignificant to her. She 
giggled, put it in her mouth
and sucked on it, then held it
up for him to view and told
him, "Say hello to *my*
penis!"