Chapter 23 – Part 5, The Raging Inferno

This is chapter 23, part 5 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.


Chapter 23 – Part 5, The Raging Inferno

That night, the Estrella picked me up after the Prof had finished his bondage, sucking and fucking of me and went home to his wife. When we arrived at the club, I saw it still had the same owner, but of course, the owner didn’t recognize me after so many years and thousands of customers.

I asked him if he still had the videos from our epoch there, specifically, the video of a hot Guatemalan woman named María dancing nude with a black guy. He said yes, he had it and still played it from time-to-time; he looked at me closely. The video was stored on his entertainment computer as he had digitalized all the VHS tapes years ago. I unthinkingly led the Estrella to the same table María and I had always occupied.

The owner watched me as the video played, I think recognition returned, and when María appeared on the screen, he gave me a thumbs-up – he knew! Even in the darkened room through the poor quality of the security cameras, María’s distinctive body, dance, beauty, and sexuality were evident. I was again impressed by the style and ease by which the black man had disrobed María. I was flooded by memories and I couldn’t help but cry. I wandered into the back room and looked at the corner where María had encountered so many, many men – where she had been kissed, stroked, danced, undressed, finger-fucked, vulva-kissed, even penis-fucked once. There was now a table and chairs in that corner and I sat down alone. I saw a tiny plaque on the wall, inscribed with just her name – María, and I began to cry again. The video looped several times, and I finally calmed down enough to watch without crying. The video ended when she left the backroom nude, pulling the black man behind her. I was shocked to see my younger self standing in the doorway as she walked by.

The owner brought us free drinks, and patted my shoulder – I’m sure he thought María had died and the Estrella was our daughter. He told her,

“María was the best dancer I ever had, the sexiest, and the biggest … uh”

“Slut?” I offered.

“Well, yes, slut. I’m a rich man now with the most famous sex club in Central America, and I owe it all to María. She created the up-scale sex club market here. I’m rich now, but I still prefer those first years when you and María were here. Damn, we could tell some stories, couldn’t we? But I guess no daughter wants to hear the details of how slutty her mother was – sorry señorita.”

The Estrella was taken by the 5-to-6 minute segment of María’s dance, and she empathized quietly afterward, “I understand.”

I had the Estrella accompany me into the women’s dressing room – I looked around, somewhere in here, the black man had first fucked María. I wondered how many women had been fucked in this room by strangers; how many married women. I had the absurd and perverse thought the black man should have impregnated María that night. He would have given us a chocolate-skin curly-haired girl, as beautiful as she and he, a magnificent slut I would have been proud to raise, that would have broken my heart.

As we left the club, the owner ask if I’d like to have the video, I told him, no, but I was proud he still played it. He said it was special to him and he’d make me a copy of the video, I could come by any time the next day or after to pick up the DVD.

As an afterthought, I asked him,

“Whatever happened to José, the security manager back then?”

“José was María’s lover after you were kicked out of the club.”

He paused and watched my face,

“I guess you knew, he said you knew. Then years later, he was María’s lover in Antigua for a short while. He left her for a while and when he returned to Antigua to look for her, he was assaulted in her house. She wasn’t there, and some guy invited him in, knocked him out, and injured him badly. He returned to Argentina and I never saw him again.”

We went from the club back to the Estrella’s apartment, and the Estrella became my new confidante. We talked for hours into the night and I told her almost everything. She seemed to anticipate my story and would fill-in words when I got stuck – she could see into my soul. She peppered me with questions as I told her about: the salsa dancing; the finger-fucking, vulva kissing and nude dancing; the black man, his black penis in my mouth; the dozens of men fucking María so I could lick their semen from her vulva; the gang-rape and María’s pregnancy; her casual lovers; her black American lover at the apartments; her recent Mexican and Guatemalan lovers; PerfectPenis; the videos and my impotency; my conversion to bisexuality and my first attempt at castration; María’s American lover in Mexico; PP’s systematic destruction of my sense of self; my castration by PP and White Witch; my houseboy life, and PP’s selling of my body to men. And finally, the Prof.

I started to tell her about the snake show, but I decided to preface the story with a demo. We walked over to the snake box and I wiggled my middle finger in front of Hilda. Hilda struck, quickly advanced up the finger to dead-end on my hand. Then I removed her and spilled the story of the snake and bangles to the Estrella. It was the only event that shocked her.

When we were exhausted from words, she eyed me coldly and clinically, with certainty, “You want complete genital amputation, don’t you? I can do that for you”. She said it dispassionately as only a doctor could do. In my mind’s eye, I looked at my genitals and saw nothing, absolutely nothing there. I told her, yes, she might do it, but before I gave up my genitals to her, PP had the first claim.

And just genital amputation wasn’t enough – I wanted my genitals displayed hanging in a jar of crystal clear solution, broken penis, bangles and testicles in plain view in total detail. The jar should be on the trophy shelf of my master, labeled, ‘Genitalia of homo-sapien, Guy Ordinary, taken in battle for María by PerfectPenis.’ I wanted my genitals prominently displayed to the world, especially to María. I told the Estrella I found no shame, no dishonor in this. I had been bested, defeated by a better man, and since the prize was one of the most desirable women in the world, PP deserved to take my genitals. And to have me as a houseboy, a eunuch in his house, displaying my genitals and my naked castrated body to the wives and children of his friends. Even fucking my wife in front of me.

The Estrella responded, “You know you are quite demented.” I was shocked and outraged by the thought. Demented indeed – I was as rational and clear-headed as any other person!

But then I felt a slippage of my mind, my mind drifted off into a swirling kaleidoscope of thoughts and images. The events of my life began flowing down over me like a collapsing pyramid of sand. My follies and stupidities cascaded one against the others:

Each grain of sand was a droplet of another man’s semen I had licked from María’s vulva;

The first small horizontal ripples were those foreign penises thrusting into her vagina;

then ripples turned into rivulets, the stroke of strange penises sliding over her lips into her throat;

the rivulets became a wavelet, the gang-rape and impregnation of María provoked new wavelets;

and then, the first cascade, PerfectPenis’s boot crushing my genitals;

then multiple cascades, PP’s torture and abuse of my genitals, until my whole life devolved into an avalanche, the destruction of my penis and testicles;

my entire being reduced to … nothing. There was nothing left, nothing at all.

The entire pyramid of my existence built over three decades of marriage with María collapsed, leveled to a flat mound, smaller than my A-cup breasts, an indistinguishable mound of nothing. My mind rejoined my genitals inside the void.

I heard the Estrella calling to me, came back into the present and saw she was apprehensive, so I smiled and thanked her for hearing my sad story. I pushed her back on the couch, raised her skirt, and placed a single kiss on the small triangle of the tanga that covered her vulva. I led her to her bed, undressed her, then cleaned her vulva thoroughly before sucking her clitoris into the first of many orgasms. Between each orgasm, I licked her vulva clean of her fluids and returned to kiss her clitoris, over and over, drinking in the richness flowing from her vulva, wishing to submerge myself completely in her richness, until, satiated, she finally pushed my head away and said, “Ya no puedo más.” (Please stop. I’m exhausted.) She was asleep before the last word left her mouth, and I returned to her vulva for the last cleaning.

I thought about my history classes of decades past, about Isis, the great Egyptian Whore Goddess of mythology. I looked over the Estrella’s body, it was too angular, with the occasional birthmark or mole, her breasts were asymmetrical, she would never compare to María. I realized again María’s great beauty was a tyranny, it had blinded me to the smaller beauties of other women. I looked again at the Estrella, she was certainly ‘rica‘, but she was much more than that. I stroked my fingertips up and down her body, under her arms, behind her ears, between her legs; I kissed her nipples, her eyes, her vulva, the crease of her butt, her moles; I breathed deeply from her vulva, her underarms, her hair; I gave her my ‘cariño‘ of deepest affection, and I awarded her the highest praise my mind could conceive – I snuggled into her, enfolded her in my arms and legs as completely as I could, held her, embraced her, loved her unconditionally, and whispered my praise softly into her ear, “Puta” (Slut). For the first time in months, I fell into the deep, undisturbed slumber of a newborn baby, of a pure, innocent virgin, of a madman.

The next morning early, I awakened to the sound of the Estrella’s hair dryer. She had already showered for work and was brushing and drying her hair, nude before a mirror. I took over those duties, smoothing her hair with my hands as it dried, marveling at its softness, scent, color and shine; it shined so brightly. I stroked her face, her shoulders, her breasts, her whoreness flowed into me. She thanked me for the previous night, told me I had the perfect mouth, the best of any man.

I melted. I wanted to fuck her … I wanted my penis head to explore every fold and crease in her vagina … I wanted to fuck her… I wanted to feel the rejuvenating life of the Whore Goddess Isis flow from her vagina into my penis, throughout my body … I wanted desperately to fuck her.

And at that moment, the haze cleared from my mind and I finally recognized the horror, the magnitude of what PP had done to me in those few minutes of twisting my penis. PP had not only destroyed me to reclaim María, a legitimate victory, he had destroyed me for every woman in the world. I would never, ever fuck a woman again, not the Estrella, not the Sonsa, not Rosa, not the White Witch, not María, not one woman ever again, forever. That forever stretched out in front of me to unbearable infinity, and my mind slipped away again – I would deliver my genitals to PP in a jar; I would be a garbage collector of other men’s semen, cleaning the vulvae of beautiful women after the men did what I could not – fuck a woman; I would help the Prof to fulfill his fantasy to fuck me to death, a death I deserved.

I stroked the Estrella’s hair and cried. She watched me in the mirror and she commanded me, “¡Míreme a mí, míreme a mí!” (Look into me, look into me.) I saw my own face in the mirror, my eyes burned not with the brilliant light of love but the raging inferno of madness. I looked into her eyes, giant brown swirling whorepools, of Isis, and she pulled me deeply into her eyes, into her heart, back away from the abyss of my own mind.

We dressed and we headed in her car towards the Prof’s house. As she drove, she became colder, more clinical, less feminine, and she astutely observed if my genitals were removed as I had described, I would not have a stub of penis for urinating. She said if PP cut-off my genitals, I would bleed to death in a few minutes. We discussed the techniques she could use to leave a functional penis stub for urination while still maintaining the appearance of total removal of the genitals for display. I didn’t understand all the details, but I was satisfied – we agreed she would do the operation when I had accumulated the money for several days of hospital stay, she wouldn’t charge me for her work. And she would deliver my genitals properly packaged for the trophy display I envisioned. She asked me if María and PP would want such a macabre trophy in their house, and I thought María would not. I would deliver my genitals personally to PP at his office.

Then she argued I shouldn’t just leave a penis stub, I should have complete sex change operation, a realistic female vulva and vagina. The idea shocked, then excited me – I would become a woman! The longer I considered the idea, the better it sounded. The Estrella argued my desire for castration was probably the manifestation of a woman inside me trying to emerge, I was really a woman, a lesbian woman because I loved to kiss the vulvae of women. Her most compelling argument was that, with a vagina, I could submit my body to be fucked by PP, the ultimate surrender to his supremacy.

Her mention of PerfectPenis dampened my excitement – what would PP want? He wanted to destroy me sexually, to remove sexual pleasure from my existence. I decided that, no, I would do what he wanted at least for the moment. I would have just a penis stub.

She also said we could have sex outside the university ‘sexual point’ process, but she would also need a good penis – she didn’t think I would object to threesomes. She joked she could assemble ‘one real man’ by combining my perfect mouth with another man’s adequate penis. She thought this threesome idea would be a good solution to satisfy her sexual needs while she studied without the complications of a serious relationship.

She dictated all her phone numbers and I keyed them into my cell phone. As we pulled up in front of the Prof’s place, she said she had worked the emergency room for over a year, she saw several penis and testicle mutilations every week. These were the favorite revenge of cuckolded husbands on their wives’ lovers. She looked away from me, out the side window and said in Guatemala City, she thought I could get PP’s penis delivered to me in a bag for about $50 dollars; I could get revenge. I looked for her face, she was turned away, she knew exactly what she was doing and saying – physician, ‘Primum non nocere’ (first, do no harm!)

The dark heavy Mayan male blood had emerged in this special woman. I leaned over and kissed her hair – she flinched. I breathed in the scent of her, kissed her hair again, and said, “te quiero mucho, Puta” (I love you, Slut). She jerked around to face me, eyes in narrow slits, face full of guilt and anger, and I commanded her, “¡Míreme a mí, míreme a mí! ” She looked at me for a moment, closed her eyes, and when she re-opened them, the doctor was gone, she was Female again, her eyes were giant brown swirling whorepools, of Isis. She said, “Yo tambien te quiero mucho, demente. ” (I love you too, madman), and I left the car.

After the Estrella dropped me off, I still had more than an hour before the arrival of the Prof, so I showered, picked a rose from the back yard, and put the rose and an unwrapped condom on a silver platter on a small table. Then I managed to suspend myself in the new position, anus at the ready before the Prof came in. He was so excited at this romantic gesture he tripped on his briefs trying to get his clothes off. He stepped up, mounted me, and fucked me in a frenzy, lasting just a couple of minutes before he ejaculated. He sat on the floor, thanked me profusely, and asked if I would become his live-in lover.

I thought about my access to the vulvae that he could supply, pondered the complete immorality of that system, and said yes, I’d be his lover as long as I had access to the ‘sexual points’. I told him I needed a week back in Antigua to pack and settle my affairs, and he cheerfully agreed. As he left for work, he was singing ‘Por Mujeres Como Tú.’ (For Women Like You.) I left that afternoon by bus to Antigua.

End of book content.


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