This is chapter 25, part 2 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 25 – Part 2, Death by Love
About 2 months after I began living with the Estrella, I told her I was ready for the genital amputation. She tried to convince me otherwise but I was adamant. I had to close that part of my life with PP in order to get free again – if he would have called me to his perfect penis again, I would have gone immediately. The Estrella re-assumed her doctor persona, asserted her dark heavy Male blood, and she scheduled me for surgery at a private clinic attached to a plastic surgeon she trusted. I chose my marriage anniversary date for the amputation. We went shopping for the perfect display bottle, then went to a jeweler to have the plaque engraved.
She asked about my testicles, and we sorted through my small box of miscellaneous possessions. It contained several DVDs of María’s sex-club dance videos, a zip-lock baggie containing María’s lace panty, two small vials containing my testicles in some sort of preserving liquid, and PP’s gift to me, the thin piano-wire garrote with which I was expected to lop off my genitals when he commanded.
There’s no need to be melodramatic about the genital amputation, I was physically castrated months before. It would be one hour of surgery to remove the fake testicles and most of the penis – the Estrella would do this work. Then three hours to reconstruct the skin and penis stub, the work of the plastic surgeon. I would spend about three weeks in rest and recovery, mostly in the Estrella’s second bedroom after I left the clinic.
The Estrella lied. The plastic surgeon replaced the small fake testicles with larger ones, then attempted to rebuild the sacs within the penis that should engorge and produce an erection. I was outraged until I saw the disappointment and hurt in the Estrella’s eyes. She did it with love and I forgave her. I accepted I could bear to live with my genitals until PP commanded me to amputate them with the wire garrote.
Five days after the operation, the Estrella gave me a hand-blown glass sculpture in the shape of my genitals, broken penis, elongated scrotum, glass bangles, distinctly separated glass bulbs as the scrotum containers for my testicles. Inside the bulbs bobbed the remnants of my real testicles in a preservative liquid. It was beautiful, a real work of glass artistry. I was immensely pleased. I put the sculpture on a bookshelf in the bedroom so I could see it at all times. Ten days after the operation, I was up and walking around normally. The Estrella said my straightened penis was cute, and I joined the Estrella in her bed again each night.
The operation was not successful – my penis was thinner, longer and straighter than before, but now, not even the first segment of my penis closest to my body would engorge. I was totally and permanently flaccid.
* * *
I chose PP’s birthday to visit him, carrying my genital sculpture, gift-wrapped in a box. I walked into his office, stared at him – he was uglier than ever and my face must have shown my hate for him. If he would have dropped his pants at that moment, I would have knelt naked in front of his genitals and kissed and sucked his testicles and penis to orgasm, pledging myself once again to him. I still lusted for that perfect penis.
We said and did nothing, then I handed him the gift box. He opened the top of the box, pulled out the sculpture, read the inscription, examined my testicles, and finally spoke. “You didn’t need to do this, María is mine, keep your testicles to remind you that you were once a man, and how I destroyed you.”
He returned the sculpture to the box and handed it back to me. I tossed the wire garrote on his desk, “Let me suck your penis one more time and I’ll use this now.”
“Get outa here, I don’t want your bloody mess on my floor. What will I do with your body, I’d have to throw you in a dumpster. Get out, you are released, you are free. And stay away from me and María.”
He turned his attention back to his work and ignored me. I ceased to exist for him. I left still full of hate but floating now above the hate, and the desire for his penis was gone. By the time I arrived back at the apartment, the hate was gone. María needed his perfect penis, and it was a small sacrifice I made to please her, I was happily deranged.
* * *
I was feeling ratty, laying in bed after the Estrella got up and went to the hospital. We had spent half the night rolling her through the seven levels of Hades, something that can only be done with the tongue and lips – no apologies to the penis. If you’ve never seen a woman incoherently moaning as the orgasmic convulsions roll through her body, the seventh level … well, too bad.
When we woke up this morning, she was crying that my penis reconstruction had failed – she knew how badly I wanted to fuck her. She said the trophy sculpture with my testicles was creepy. I was proud of it, it represented my defeat by a superior man, nothing to be ashamed of, but I decided to store it away. Then I thought of the Prof and impulsively called him. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, since my operation. Maybe he had heard about it from students. He was happy to hear from me, and the pleasure in his voice erased the ratty-ness, replacing it with a black tension in my groin.
“I’d like to come see you tonight, I have a gift for you. Maybe I can interest you in that swingy thing we used to do.”
“Absolutely, 8:00 PM, don’t be late. I have a lover now, he comes in at 11:00.”
I thought I’d give him an adrenalin hit. “Umm, not much time. If you still want to fuck me to death, tonight is the night, your last chance. Bring all your lefty colleagues, students, friends, neighbors – I’m a hard man to kill.”
A long silence, I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Visualizing the body of his father rotting in a sewer. Surely calculating how many men it would take to burst my anus, to bleed the yanqui pig to death. I knew he was taking it seriously, so I added,
“Don’t forget my mouth, jam a big penis into my throat, I’ll choke and shake for 4-5 minutes, then it’s over.”
“Are you serious? You’ll fight, you’ll bite off the penis.”
The black tension in my groin ratcheted up a few notches. The conversation had become surreal, but he was serious. I was telling him how to kill me, we already had the time and place. Maybe I thought taking a woman into the seventh level of Hades was the apex of my life, nothing else left was worthwhile.
“You can tie me up, have your friends hold me down so everyone can see the convulsions. I swear I won’t bite. Or give me drugs or squeeze my neck arteries. This is real, it’s your fantasy made real. Revenge your father. Now or never.”
“Did you have an operation?”
“Yes.” Someone had already told him. He always liked playing with my broken penis. No more.
“What is my gift?”
“My testicles in a trophy sculpture. You can have your name engraved on the sculpture.”
“Come on over. We’ll do the swingy thing first. I’ll throat you alone, no witnesses. I wanted you to be my lover, you blew me off, I’ll enjoy killing you. What should I do with your body?”
“I won’t care. Make sure I can’t be identified, throw me in a sewer. Wait … no, my body has to be easily found and identified, and it can’t look like a suicide. That’s for the insurance for my family. The sewer part is OK if it makes you feel better.”
“You better be serious. If you come here, I’m going to kill you. Do you want some convulsive drugs? You’ll die squirming, but the convulsions will distract you from the choking. They add little pain but shake your whole body. How much pain do you want?”
“No, no extra pain, I want it to be my own pain, I have some debts to pay. Maybe you should bring some friends, some that hate gringos. The convulsions will excite them, they can ejaculate or urinate on me. I’m going to die, a little extra humiliation will be fun.” The black tension had spread from my groin over all my body. Now, I was dead serious and seriously excited. I wished I had someone I could tell, I was going to die in just a few hours, fucked to death by a perverted old man. There was no one. They would try to stop me, call the police, lock me up in a nut house.
“I’ll think about it. See you at eight, I’ll be ready.”
I spent the day pacing the apartment, visualizing my mouth skewered by his penis, my body flopping and shaking until I became completely still, completely at peace. I arrived at his place almost an hour early, bursting with excitement. The Prof was alone – he wanted no witnesses. He looked great – he had lost some weight and toned up, almost sexy for an old man.
The Prof handled my sculpture like it was fine crystal. He had already mounted a special mantle to display it in his bondage room. I disrobed and he examined my penis. He said it was beautiful and he wished he had done the operation. He sucked me to my last ejaculation.
It’s amazing what you’ll be willing to do in the last moments of your life. We had great sex. We deep kissed. I kissed his nipples, inside his ears and naval and armpits, reveling in the scents and tastes of the man. I licked the crack of his buttocks, then reamed his anus, my first time ever in the last moments of my life. In spite of the pain of his hemorrhoids he ejaculated fiercely. We did the swinging suck and swinging fuck, giddy as teenage boys when they’re about to pop their first cherry. I swung front to back, pushing against the walls with my hands, banging my anus against his torso, savoring the movement of his penis inside my body, and I felt the immense need to have that penis stroking in my throat. I said, “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, …” repeatedly until he stilled my swinging.
This would be my finest moment. I was already bound, he swung me above the bed and dropped me. I was dead calm and still, but he trembled, his chest jumping as he repressed his sobs. He was a sloppy mess, I didn’t think he’d be able to do it, but I was wrong. He asked if I wanted him to knock me out, and I said no, I wanted to feel the agonies of my body as I died. I owed that much to María, for the pain I had caused her. The Prof said he’d push deep immediately and stay deep until the choking stopped. I’d be unconscious, then he’d stroke until he ejaculated – I’d be dead by then. I agreed but thought he should strap down my legs and trunk against violent movements. That done, I suggested a slippery lubricant. He lubricated his penis, the poured a small quantity into my mouth. I swished and gargled and swallowed.
We were ready. He asked if I had any last words. I said, “I’m sorry about your father, let’s do it.” He injected a small quantity of cloudy liquid into a vein, then pulled my head down over the edge of the bed, and pushed his penis into my mouth. I planned to savor this delicacy for a while – I began sucking and licking the head, the sweetest taste I had remaining in my life.
The Prof had other plans – he pushed in quickly, hit the back of my throat, and I started gagging but too late, he slid into my throat easily. His testicles buried my nose, but it didn’t matter, I couldn’t breathe through my throat. He wiggled and squirmed until he bottomed-out, pushing his penis a few more millimeters into my throat. He sat down fully on my face, embedding my chin in his abdomen – I couldn’t move my head at all. My neck hurt severely like it would break. Most of his body weight was on my neck bent across the edge of the bed. I thought I should give him one last fright – I’d give his penis a nip, but my jaw was trapped. I suddenly became frightened – there was no way to call this off, no safe word, no way to escape. I was dead minus four minutes. I took a mental deep breath and relaxed. I only had 1 or 2 minutes of lucidity left, I might as well enjoy them. Besides, there are far worse ways to die. This was erotic, passionate – this man had wanted me so badly he would kill me with his penis.
My mind drifted out of my body, and I watched myself gagging and choking. My body started shaking and jerking. The extra straps were a godsend, I would have easily thrown him off without them. My penis turned red from the blood seeking to engorge! I couldn’t see my face for his body, but I could still feel my eyes fluttering, my head was vibrating. He sat there, holding my arms down, watching me struggle, then lay down on my body. I was beautiful, proud, and at the moment of my death, I finally knew what love is – it’s what you’re willing to kill for, or to die for. María. My body flushed, burned and glowed with love. María.
I couldn’t see anything anymore, just felt movements, convulsions of my body, and yes, his stroking. I must be at the edge of unconsciousness, and he’s fucking my throat, fucking me to death for the crimes of the CIA. I didn’t care about his father or the CIA, this was my redemption for hurting María. I wished it was her penis killing me …
The Prof was on the floor screaming, my head turned to his side, and I coughed vomit on him, choked and coughed, and repeated. I could barely get a breath, and the convulsions made breathing almost impossible. He crawled to a phone, called for an ambulance, just as his lover came in the door. They disappeared, and I laid there, strapped to the bed, not fucked to death, but drowning in my own vomit. This was not the erotic death I had signed-up for. My body shook, my stomach heaved, I choked and coughed and gasped and passed out. When I came to, I was kneeling naked in the street behind an ambulance, shaking and coughing and choking. Someone threw a blanket over me. Minutes later, The Estrella was fussing over me in the ER. She said I would be fine, but she would keep me overnight because she didn’t understand my sporadic convulsions. She came in several times as I drifted in and out. She asked what had happened, I replied it was just oral sex gone wrong when whatever I ate for dinner came up, nothing at all, except I was strapped down when my dinner revolted. She said the Prof was also in the hospital, and had just come out of surgery. He had been assaulted in front of his house and his penis half-severed. His damage was repaired, he’d likely have normal erections again.
Some weeks later I called the Prof. He was pleased to hear from me. He was fully recovered and proudly hosted my genital trophy sculpture as the centerpiece in his bondage room. He said the killing debacle was his fault – he started stroking me too early and some air would have gotten to my lungs. And he was an idiot for thinking the drug-induced convulsions wouldn’t occur in my jaw muscles. He joked he had my teeth marks permanently scarred on his penis, of which he was very proud. No hard feelings, and if I was ready to try again, he’d use surgical jaw clamps to keep my mouth open. The process we used had been validated by the first attempt, and he promised he’d succeed in fucking me to death the second time around. I felt the black tension growing in my groin. I said I’d have to think about it. As an enticement, he offered to video the entire process, so he could watch it at his pleasure and show it to selected gringo-haters. Now the black tension was roaring inside me, and I hastily signed off. I was ready to go to him. I needed to cool off and think, so I called the Estrella, and let her voice sooth me.
* * *
I was feeling ratty, laying in bed as the Estrella twitched and moaned beside me. We had spent half the night rolling her through the levels of Hades, only to stall out at the fourth level when she seized my head between her thighs, rolled over and almost broke my neck by her convulsions. Now she lay on her back, one hand rubbing her clitoris energetically, the other hand pulling and twisting a nipple towards the heavens. It was beautiful, and I was content to watch. The spectacle did not dispel my ratty-ness, I missed my penis at that moment and she missed it too. Well, not my penis, a penis 30 years younger.
When she finished, we talked for a while. She said she noticed my genital trophy sculpture was missing from the mantel, and she apologized for calling it creepy. She had a surprise – she brought formaldehyde from the lab and said we should change the cloudy fluid. I had to confess I gave the sculpture to The Prof. She talked about him for a while. Shortly after the assault that almost claimed his penis, he came out of the closet, left his wife and now lived with his lover at his apartment. Since then, he had become more friendly to her and everyone else at the hospital and had actually become a favorite among the med students. He declined most, maybe all, requests for ‘sexual points,’ he seemed to be focused on his partner. She grew animated – let’s give him a surprise visit right now with the excuse of changing the sculpture liquid. I didn’t think that was a great idea, but I couldn’t say no to her. Like María before her, she had gradually replaced my volition with hers – just to go out in public with her twisted my guts with pure pleasure.
Of course, she already knew most of my story with The Prof, except for the last ‘accident’, and the Prof knew about my relationship with her. They had become friends in the ER – I thought the visit would be harmless. We knocked on his door, waited, thought no one was home when The Prof cracked the door and peeked out. He smiled when he saw us, opened the door and welcomed us in with a sweep of his arm. He was completely nude, semi-erect with some dark liquid slathered on his erection. We made somewhat awkward greetings, and he led us into his bondage room. He pointed the Estrella at the trophy sculpture, and without stopping, walked to the bed where his lover was strapped down.
His lover had his neck bent over the end of the bed with a thick neck cushion, and had some sort of hellish instrument of torture holding his mouth open; his body was shaking and contorting. After squirting some liquid into his lover’s mouth, the Prof straddled his lover’s head and plunged his penis to the hilt into his mouth in a single movement. The Prof hit a button on top of a clock on the end table, then leaned forward, rested his weight on his lover’s face, squirmed down until his lover’s face was buried, and we watched together as his chest heaved and his body shook.
I was mesmerized, reliving, and the Estrella squeezed my arm and hung on. I wanted to see better, to watch this man die of his own choice, and I moved to the side of the bed, pulling the Estrella with me. Amongst the convulsions, his impressive penis flopping from side-to-side, I saw the man’s penis was engorged and pulsating. I grabbed his penis and he immediately ejaculated, spraying The Prof’s neck and chest. I could feel the pulses of semen flowing through his penis.
The alarm sounded, The Prof hit the alarm button again and started stroking his lover’s throat. As his penis cleared his lover’s throat, we could hear the gasps and sucking sounds of desperate breathing. The Prof ejaculated almost immediately, seconds later, the alarm sounded and the Prof withdrew. The lover coughed several times, semen dribbled from his mouth, and he grinned ear-to-ear, “What a rush! Whew! Fantastic!” I looked at The Estrella, she was pale, sagging on my arm, face green. Now she knew what had happened to me the night of my ‘accident’, the night the Prof’s penis was almost severed.
While the Prof removed the torture device from his lover’s mouth, he asked me if I was ready. The black tension in my groin had turned to black flame consuming my body. I said YES, but with no clock, no stopping until I found peace. The Prof laughed, said he had found his peace. I was forgiven for the sins of the gringos, and NO, he would not kill me today. He unstrapped his lover, and laid on the bed for his turn of their game, ‘death by throating.’
The Estrella pulled me away to the trophy sculpture, and we changed the formaldehyde. I poked at my testicles, they were stiffer now, less rubbery, still firm. I felt removed from them like they had never belonged to me, they didn’t matter anymore. The Prof had put another plaque on the jar, inscribed, ‘Received in Penitence by Professor [Prof].’ with the date. As we turned to leave, we saw the Prof’s lover plunging his remarkably large penis deep into the Prof’s mouth. I wondered how it would ever fit.
As The Estrella drove us out, we decided to spoil ourselves with a first-class brunch. We were both unsettled by what we had seen and were mainly silent and reflective as she drove. Over an excellent salmon omelet, we talked. The Estrella explained they were doing a dangerous variation of oxygen deprivation for orgasm enhancement. I thought, “Why not?”
I remarked it was strange the Prof allowed us, especially the Estrella, in his door while nude and fucking his partner. She reminded me we first met and had oral sex in the same apartment. She confessed she had ‘pointed’ for grades several times with the Prof before she met me. This is why The Prof had chosen her for me. Even as an ardent homosexual, the Prof easily got an erection for her anus, and once he got excited, he’d take her vagina and mouth equally well. It wasn’t hetero sex, just a place to stick his penis and ejaculate. My admiration for this amazing woman ticked up several notches – the María-spirit was strong in her.
She asked me if I wanted to die. I told her sometimes my loss of María was unbearable, but no, I didn’t want to die.
We left the restaurant and decided to walk in the park across the street. The Estrella put her arm around my waist; I put my arm around her back and cupped her breast. I strutted like all those old gringos in the Zona Rosa in Mexico City, escorting whores younger than their daughters. The Estrella said,
“If you ever need to die, I’ll do it. Don’t go with some stranger who doesn’t love you.”
“Te amo hasta la muerte mia. ” (I love you as deep as my death.)
I knew the meaning of love – it’s what you’re willing to kill or die for. She was willing to kill me for me. I was willing to die so she could kill me for me … The circular reasoning sounded the alarm in my head – people are willing to kill or die for every stupidity conceivable: their religion, their country, their race, penis cults of all descriptions, ugh! What a crock of mierda! I was wrong – love isn’t about killing or dying. I was lost again. I didn’t know what love is, but I knew I loved the Estrella.
The Estrella was not for me, she’d have her own young man and family soon. But until then, I would please her. Maybe that’s what love is.
End of book content.
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