Archive-name: Slaves/cutabove.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Cut Above the Rest, A


    I am a doctor.  I have been practicing medicine for 15 years.
I have my own practice and I do minor surgery at one of the
clinics in the city.  I'm divorced.  My husband divorced me in
1975.  I mention this because my divorce turned me sour to men.
I think that had some bearing on my decision to undertake this
venture.

    One afternoon in 1983, a couple came into my office, a hefty
woman, around 45, and a young man around 26 or so. They sat down
and the conversation that was struck that day amazed me and left
me speechless.  The woman sat down and the man stood behind her.
She introduced herself then introduced the man.  She simply said,
"This is my houseboy and personal slave."  She snapped her
fingers and this young man knelt down beside her chair, never
saying a word.  I was shocked.  She explained that they lived a
different lifestyle from most people. She explained how her slave
had given his life to her service.

    Now I wasn't born yesterday.  I'd read stories about this --
I was fascinated.  "Well, what can I do for you?" I asked.

    "We're looking for a woman doctor to help us.  You see, my
slave here has agreed to give his manhood to me.  We need a
doctor to perform the surgery."

    I was dumbfounded.  I was going to flat out say no.  I mean a
doctor can lose his or her license for performing an unnecessary
surgery like that.  However, she told me she understood it was
illegal but was asking me to bend the rules a bit.  She explained
how she too would want this quiet, and she promised not to make
public her visit.  She tried to make me understand how
significant this offer made to her was.  For a slave to offer his
manhood was the ultimate sacrifice every woman in her select
circle of lady friends desires.  Also, she said she had very
personal reasons for asking for this unique surgery.  She gave me
her number and ask me to think about it and then to call her.
Well I thought about her visit for two weeks.  I couldn't get it
out of my mind.  Finally I called her.  She asked me to come to
her home for supper.

    I arrived at her home around 6:30.  She met me at the door
and directed me to the kitchen.  There I found this young man
totally in the nude, making final preperations for the evening
meal.  We sat down and her slave served us dinner, but he didn't
join us; he stood at attention behind and to her left.  At
dinner, she explained that her slave had been her property for
five years.  She worked and he took care of the house and was not
allowed out of the house unsupervised.  She said he was not
supposed to relieve himself without permission.  That was where
her slave had faltered.  She had bought him cock collar after
cock collar, but he kept getting out of them.  "There's nothing
that pisses me off more than a slave who continually plays with
his ugly cock and disobeys my orders.  This slave is the hornest
slave I've ever seen," she said.  She made it quite clear that
she was the boss, and that his latest infraction had violated his
oath to her.

    She then took a plate and scraped off the scraps on her
plate.  Then she took the scraps from my plate.  She set the
plate on the floor and her slave knelt down and began to eat them
like a dog.  I sat there in total amazement.

    "You know what he did last week?" she asked as I shook my
head.  "I took him out of his cock collar.  He promised that he
wouldn't cum.  He was lying in front of the chair and I was using
his face and body as a footrest, when my foot just happened to
brush against his cock.  And he shot a load of cum all over my
foot!  It was disgusting.  Well, that was it.  For five years he
hasn't been able to control his urges or his cock.  I made up my
mind I was going to get rid of him.  There's an old black woman
down in Brooklyn who has shown some interest in him at some of
our parties.  I was getting ready to call her when my worthless
and undisciplined slave volunteered to give up his manhood for
me.  And I think that is the only way to control his urges for
self gratification.  That's why we called on you."

    We went into the living room as her slave cleaned up.  She
said that what she really wanted was not for me to do the
surgery, but she wanted me to be present so she could do the
surgery herself.  In other words, I was to talk her through it.
That wouldn't be so difficult.  Castrations are done by farmers
everyday (of course on cows and pigs). We talked some time about
the operation.  "You know something?" she said.  "I'm going to
miss his balls.  You don't know how much fun they are to torment.
I like to put weights on them and watch them stretch.  And when I
bend him over to put a whip to his backside, it's exciting to
watch his balls dangle between his legs.  It gives me something
to try to hit.  You know, he has some nice balls."

    "Yes," I said, "I noticed that at dinner."

    "They're so big and loose this time of year, it almost seems
a shame to remove them."

    "We don't have to remove them if you'd rather not," I said.
"There are alternatives."

    "I thought the only way to handle this was to remove his
balls." she questioned.

    "Oh, heavens no.  You see, there are various forms of
castration.  The most common is the type that farmers do.  They
are trying to improve their herd so they sterilize all the bulls
except their stud bull.  They do that by removing the testicles.
Another way is to remove the entire genitals.  That can be
considered a major surgery.  I think we had better rule that one
out.  But the final way is the way that I think would fit your
purpose."

    With that, I drew a brief drawing of what I was talking
about.  "You see," I said, "what we do is basically remove the
penis.  Not all of it; we'd have to leave a very small stub,
giving us room to clamp off the blood vessels.  Also, that stub
will save room for the urethra. He has to pee. You see," I said
as I drew a jagged line across the drawing, "all we have to do is
make a cut above the rest, leaving those beautiful balls for you
to torment as much as you please."

    "You make it sound so simple," she exclaimed.

    "It basically is.  I mean the penis is only skin and muscle.
Contrary to belief, there is no bone there.  The biggest problem
will be to cut off the blood vessels.  Once we deaden and
localize the area, the muscles will go limp."

    "Will he be awake for this?"

    "Sure.  Once he's been deadened, he won't feel a thing."

    She looked at me in amazement.  "Will his voice change?  You
know the stories, the ones about the high squeeky voice and all."

    "No.  Here's the beauty of this type of operation.  All the
male hormones are supplied by the testicles.  We're not removing
the testicles.  What we are going to do is remove the highly
sensitive underside of the penis.  I don't know about you, but
I've never seen a man cum without rubbing and stroking his penis.
By removing the penis, there is nothing for him to stroke.  The
cruel part is that the juices will be bubbling in his balls.
He'll still be horny, but there can never be release.  He'll be
hornier than ever, but he must suffer through it.  I mean this is
permanent.  It's pretty cruel, probably the worst thing you can
do to a man."

    "Yeah," she answered with an evil gleam in her eye. " But it
sure is exciting to think about, ain't it?"

    I had to admit that it did make my juices flow.  At that time
her slave came in.  He knelt down at her feet and kissed both of
them.  We started telling her slave about the surgery.  We
described how it would be done and what the consequences would
be.  But before we finished, he began crying.  He looked into his
mistress's eyes and asked, "Isn't there another way?"

    She reached down and gently brushed his head.  "I'm afraid
not, Tony.  I've been patient with you for five years.  You just
can't control yourself.  I want you to understand.  I won't make
you do anything.  What I'm saying is that I need a slave I can
depend on.  The choice is yours.  If you stay with me, you'll
have to be fixed for your own good.  If not, I'll have to take
another slave.  In fact, Mary has offered to give me Barry if you
decide to go.  You're better looking, Tony, and even better hung,
but Barry is more diligent and has remarkable control.  Tony, I
think I deserve the the best slave I can get.  Don't you think
so?"

    He shook his head in agreement, but I could tell he was
devastated to be involved in the conversation.

    Looking at me she asked, "Where do you propose we make the
cut?"

    Motioning for Tony to come over to my chair, I proceeded to
use Tony's penis to illustrate where the final transection would
take place, when I marveled, "My what an enormous penis he has.
It must be at least 8" long.  It seems a sin to cut off so much
beautiful cock.  What a waste, when scores of men would love to
have this cock.  A lot of women, too, I might add."

    "Yes," she said, "too bad he has absolutely control over his
urges.  I want a slave who eats and sleeps thinking about
pleasing me.  He says he wants to be my slave, but he
concentrates more on his own sexual urges than on mine.  And for
women who run in my circle, there's no excuse for that.  The
whole essence of a female dominant lifestyle is sexual
fulfillment for her and sexual denial for him.  Tony refuses to
be denied.  It's time he accepts denial, or I have no place for
him in my domain.  I've been patient long enough."

    She seemed quite determined as I proceeded to illustrate
where to place the cut above the rest of his genitals.  Reaching
out, I took hold of his erect penis, and with my other hand I ran
my finger across an invisible line just above his balls. "I'd say
we'd remove it right about here, leaving him a short little
stub."

    But before I could get another sentence out, Tony's penis
spasmed right in my hand and a huge glob of cum shot all over my
fingers.  As I jerked away, this eruption spewed all over the
floor.

    "How disgusting," I groaned, shaking cum from my hand.

    The woman sprang up and slapped him to the floor and started
screaming at him.  He was crying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" as she
screamed, "Lick this mess up! Lick it up!"  Then he was on all
fours, licking sperm off the floor.

    When I returned from the bathroom where I had gone to wash my
sticky hands, she had him standing in the corner yelling
obscenities at him.  She had produced a paddle and was smacking
his ass with it.  All the while he sobbed, "I'm sorry! I couldn't
help it!"  But she kept landing that paddle on his butt!

    "Doctor, it's you who should be doing this," she said,
offering me the paddle. "It was you hand that he defiled."

    Now this is not what I expected.  His butt was already red,
but he made me mad.  I took the paddle and smacked his ass as
hard as I could at least ten times.  And he kept crying, "I'm
sorry!  I'm sorry!"

    "You see, doctor, he has absolutely no control.  It's a
perfect waste of a beautiful cock.  I can't even use him as my
stud, for no sooner do I put that long hard penis inside me, when
he shoots and the looses his hard-on.  He's got to be fixed.
He's disappointed me for the last time.  I can't even bring my
girlfriends over as I could never be sure he wouldn't make a mess
on one of them."

    "I don't understand it," I said.  "All I did was simply touch
it!"

    "That's all it takes... what a tragedy.  A beautiful cock
gone to hell.  I can't ride it; I can't even torment it.  What a
bunch of bullshit...  You know, my sister has a slave that has
teriffic staying power.  He's in control of his balls and goes
for weeks before he is allowed an orgasm.  He doesn't cheat,
either.  He doesn't sneak off and play with himself, either.  He
turned his balls over to my sister and he's happy to accept his
slave status...  But not Tony.  He sneaks around, shoots at the
drop of a hat, and denies the thing every dominant woman must
have -- complete control over his sex life.  He's got to be
fixed."

    Tony was still in the corner, crying like a whipped dog.  I
felt sorry for him but could understand the situation.  So I
decided I'd help.  We made arrangements to practice so that she
would be able to perform the surgery.  For the next two weeks we
practiced the surgry.  I'd arrive at her house. (I wasn't about
to do this in my office.)  I'd bring a thick sausage to practice
on.  We'd take needles and practice injecting the novacaine.  And
at the end of each session, that knife would slice the sausage
into two parts and each time I watched, my pussy creamed,
thinking about the real thing.

    Finally the evening came.  I arrived at her house with all
the surgical equipment.  There were several cars parked out front
and when I entered, there in the living room were six other women
that I had never seen.

    "Well, I guess this is the night," my hostess said, greeting
me at the door.  "Let me introduce you to some of my friends."

    As I was being introduced, I found myself shocked and amazed
at the way some of the women were dressed.  Some wore leather
with spiked boots, while others dressed more casually.  They
apparently were fellow dominants invited to watch the
proceedings.  There ws also a man dressed in a maid's outfit,
walking around in heels.  He approached me with a tray and
offered me a drink which I gladly took.

    When we entered the living room, low and behold, there was a
totally naked man lying face up in front of the couch and two
ladies were resting their feet on him.  They were using him as a
footrest and one big old fat woman had her foot smack in his
face.  But the amazing thing is the complete mater-of-factness
about the whole thing.  Yet each lady I was introduced to was
exceedingly nice and friendly.

    The only seat available in the room was on the couch.  "Have
a seat, doctor," the fat woman on the couch said, as she patted
the place beside her.  I had to step over the man on the floor.
And I sat down.  "Don't be shy.  This slave is down there to be
used . Feel free," the fat woman said.  Well, when in Rome, I
thought to myself.  I slipped off my shoes and rested my feet on
this man's chest.

    "Doctor, let me introduce you to Tony's mother," the hostess
said as she pointed to the fat lady on my left.

    In shock I exclaimed, "Tony's mother?"

    "Yes, you see it was Tony's mother who gave him to me five
years ago.  I was sure I could solve his problem, but I just
can't."

    "You see, doctor, Tony's had an overactive penis since he was
a boy.  He was always masturbating himself crazy," his mother
said.  "I knew he had a problem when I had him, so I gave him to
another mistress who could deal with him in a more mistress-like
way."

    "I've tried, heaven knows!  It has just come down to this,"
Tony's mistress said in an apologetic way.

    "Yes, it's too bad.  But being fixed seemes to be the only
answer.  I couldn't control him when I had him.  What does the
good book say:  'If thy eye offends thee, pluck it out,' or
something like that.  I just hope it won't hurt too much," Tony's
mother said.

    "Once he's deadened, he won't feel a thing.  Though the
needles hurt some, we can't help that," I assured her.

    For the next fifteen minutes we ladies talked.  They had
hundreds of questions to ask and I did my best to answer them.
But in no time, we were on our way downstairs.  It was time for
the thing to be done.

    Tony was already bound to a sort of X-frame with his hands
bound overhead and his legs fastened at the bottem arms of the X.
Across the middle, he was also bound with straps around his
thighs so he couldn't move.  The rest of the ladies took seats in
the chairs provided.  One of the ladies I noticed didn't even
hesitate.  She raised her dress, spred her legs and after sitting
down, forced the man in the maid's outfit to bury his face
between her legs.  She simply laid back and prepared to enjoy the
so-called entertainment.  I remember one other woman saying,
"That sounds like a good idea," and she took the naked man who
for a time had been my footrest, and pushed his face between her
legs also. It was apparent that these ladies were here to have a
good time.

    As we prepared the equipment, Tony's mother went up to her
son and rubbed her hand gently over his cheek, showing her
concern.

    "Mom," he whispered, "they're going to cut my penis off."

    "Yes, I know, dear.  I'm sorry.  But I think we both know
this is for the best," she said, still stroking his face.

    "Mom, I just can't help it.  It just errupts.  I try!  I
really try!  I want to be good, but I can't control it!" he
cried.

    "I know," she said. "My poor baby.  Ever since you were a
boy, just eleven or twelve, you've wanted to be a slave.
Remember the time I caught you dressing in my clothes?  I was so
mad, I spanked you but the spanking only excited you more.  You
shot your load then and I hadn't even touched you.  It simply had
rubbed itself across my lap.  You've always wanted this.  I'd
find those domination magazines under your mattress.  I told
myself that you were different.  Some mothers look to their sons
to be doctors or lawers, but I knew you would make some woman an
excellent houseboy and personal body slave someday.  You were
always so docile and shy.  But I loved you for what you were.
Some people are born to serve and you could do worse than live to
make some woman happy."

    "Mom, you'll always be my favorite girl.  But right now I'm
scared.  Mom, she wants me to give up my penis, my sex life or
she won't keep me.  I  don't want to lose her, but I don't think
it's fair.  It's too much.  She's being unreasonable," he
pleaded.

    "Now you hush.  Your mistress is one of the finest ladies I
know.  She treats you right.  She fulfills everything you've ever
wanted.  When I found her for you I knew she was right for my
boy.  But a mistress has to do what is best for her and her
domain.  Your problem is always going to be a wedge in that
relationship.  When this thing is over you'll both be happier.
Every time you give her an orgasm, you'll both know it was done
unselfishly.  You serving her for service's sake.  That's
important to a mistress.  You can't serve two masters.  You'll
come to see that her pleasure is your pleasure.  You serve your
mistress from your heart, not your cock.  A woman wants that.
And I hope when this is over, your mistress will come to me and
say that you are the best slave she's ever had.  That would make
me proud."

    "I know, but I sometimes wish it was like it used to be.
Remember when I started college.  I though I'd knock your socks
off when I asked you to take me as your slave?"

    She laughed, "Surprised the hell out of me, but I was a sport
and said yes."

    "Shocked me, too," he said.  "You didn't even hesitate."

    "I knew all about you, remember.  Remember the schedule I set
up for you to do the housework?  And that frilly lace apron I
made you wear? I'd get a kick watching you do the housework
completely naked, except in that apron and your high heels," she
laughed.

    "I did a pretty good job, though."

    "Sure did.  I always knew you'd be a good houseboy.  I
especially liked the way you'd lick my toes then slowly blow on
them.  And boy, how can I forget the way you eat pussy.  You used
to eat my pussy by the hour.  I miss that," she confessed.  "But
dammit, Tony, you always would mess up my sheets.  You couldn't
put a handle on that penis of yours.  In fact, if I'd kept you,
I'd probably be doing the same thing.  It's got to be done."

    "I know, Mom. I guess that's why I agreed to this," he said.

    "Tony," she said, looking out at the women who were there to
watch, "these ladies are here to watch something special.  What
your doing is the supreme, unselfish act any slave can do for his
loving mistress.  In a way, I'm very proud of you."

    His mother sat down to watch.  I think, as strange as the
whole thing sounds, she was proud of her son, and disappointed at
the same time.  She surely realized what he was about to lose.
Forever.  But deep down she knew that this was for the best.

    With everything now ready, I sat down with the other ladies.
Tony's mistress was prepared to do the whole thing by herself.
All eyes were on the bound, naked young man with the enormous
cock and balls.

    "Tony, before we complete what must be done, as your loving
mistress, I want you to experience one last orgasm.  Your last
cum."  The ladies in the room chorused the chant, "One last
come... one last cum..."

    Tony's penis was erect and firm as his mistress took her hand
and gently stroked his cock.  It wasn't even ten seconds and his
balls shot a geyser of sperm.  His mistress shook her head and
whispered, "Even now he can't last longer than a few seconds."
The room was full of electricity.  The chorus "One last cum," the
stroking of the penis and the moans as Tony orgasmed his last
time.

    Cleaning the mess, his mistress wiped his cock and balls with
alcohol.  Then taking the needle, as we had practiced, all eyes
watched as the needle slid underneath the skin at the base of the
penis.  She squeezed the fluid in, then removed the needle and
injected it again, only underneath where she had made the first
injection.  She did quite well.  Only this time it wasn't a
sausage.  It would take five minutes for the area to deaden
enough to proceed.

    Next, she took the clamp and about halh an inch above his
scrotum she applied the clamp and tightened it as tight as she
could.  This of course would restrict the flow of blood, allowing
her to seal off the blood vessels once the transsection was made.
His penis was perfectly limp now.  It hung long and lanky. She
took it in her hand, flipped it back and forth, lifted it and let
it go, watching it swing freely.

    Looking at Tony, she took the needle and poked the base of
his penis.  "Do you feel anything, slave?" she asked.

    "No, nothing, Mistress." he answered.

    "Is there anything you'd like to say before the thing is
done?" she asked.

    "Mistress, I would like to say that I understand."  With
courage, he looked out at the ladies who were creaming with
excitement from what they were seeing.  He stoically said, "And
all you other ladies here, I want you to know that I'm giving my
mistress my penis because I love her, and I want her to be happy.
As my mom told me, I've always wanted to be a slave, ever since I
was in junior high school.  But I haven't been a very good slave.
I have been too selfish and uncontrollable. I hope this will make
me a good slave."

    "Tony," his mistress said, with a proud look in her eyes,
"I'll bet after this you'll be the best slave that any woman can
have.  It's a great sacrifice you're making for me and today
you've made me very very proud."

    With that, she picked up the knife.  It wasn't a surgical
knife.  She had insisted she use one of her kitchen knives.  "It
adds excitement to it," she said to me.  And I guess that's true.
I'll bet there's not a woman out there who has cut through one of
those thick hot dogs or sausages and hasn't in her mind thought,
"what if this were what's-his-name's cock!"  Besides, I had taken
the knife to the clinic and sterilized it.

    Reaching out with her left hand, she took the glans of his
penis and stretched it straight out.  She held the knife in her
right hand and brought it within inches of his penis.

    Now I have to relay what was happening from the audience. all
eyes were on the knife, but each lady had either a hand or a face
in her pussy.  The woman next to me had taken her breasts out of
her outfit and was rolling her fingers and kneading her erect
nipple and with her other hand she was furiously rubbing her
pussy.  Her eyes, as big as saucers, were fixed on the knife and
from from her lips the words, "Doit, do it, doit," could be
heard.

    In fact, every woman except Tony's mother was on the verge of
sexual explosion as each one got so wrapped in it.  I too slid my
hand down into my panties and rubbed my clitoris.  I couldn't
help it.  And soon, more of the ladies took up the chant, "Do it,
do it, do it."

    And we watched.  And we watched.  Pulling his penis even
more, she let the knife blade slowly descend until it came to
rest on that invisible line that lay 'a cut above the rest.'  In
less than a few seconds, the knife, in a sliding motion, sliced
cleanly through the flesh.  And like a champion with her prize,
she lifted it for all to see.  From her left hand hung the 'penis
of many troubles.'  It would cause no one trouble anymore.
    The women all moaned and seemingly erupted.  They literally
shook in their chairs as they orgasmed to what they had seen with
their unbelieving eyes.  I too uncontrollably exploded in the
best orgasm I had had in years.  It was purely Freudian.  But it
was more than my libido could stand.  Call it penis envy.  Call
it sadism.  Call it anything you want, but my pussy shook and I
simply closed my eyes and blacked out for nearly a minute.  When
I came to, I found my hostess busy preparing the wound; so I
jumped up to help.

    When I was finished, we released Tony who looked beaten but
in good shape.  I took him upstairs to lie down and rest.  I
administered him a shot to make him sleep. Then I went to the
bathroom to wash my hands.

    Returning to the dining room, I found all the ladies around
the table.  Someone had washed Tony's penis, and it lay on a
tray.  Each woman reached out and squeezed it or touched it in
some fashion.  There before them lay the 'penis of many
troubles.'

    Tony's mistress seemed to have a little regret in her voice
as she said, "I wish I hadn't had to do it."

    Tony's mother gently took her by the arm.  "Don't blame
yourself.  It had to be done.  I know Tony.  He loves and
worships you.  And above all else, he wants to be a good slave,
but his penis always stopped him.  It won't stop him anymore."

    "I know," she said.  "He had the most beautiful cock," she
said, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger.  "I just wish
he could have controlled it."

    "What are you going to do with his penis?" one of the ladies
asked.

    "I've got a beautiful decorated jar.  I plan to keep it as a
reminder of this day.  That way Tony can, from time to time, look
at it and remember.  It will help remind us both of what was
sacrificed this day."

    I checked on Tony off and on for a few weeks.  He healed fine
and the skin covered over the wound, giving him the tiniest
little stub.  Tony's problem was solved.  There wasn't enough for
him to accomplish an orgasm.

     I haven't seen them for years.  However, that Christmas I
received a nice Christmas card from Tony and his Mistress.  From
what Tony wrote on the card, I could imagine that things were
running smoothly at their home.  Tony worte, "Thank you for all
you help.  Come this Christmas season you will have truly helped
me to understand that it is more blessed to give than to
receive."

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