I just can't think why I offered to do that thing last night. I must have been a bit drunk, or in lust, or plain crazy. I suppose I had to say something to quieten down Gemma but that was extreme by any standards.

Of course, I love Gemma,we've been together for ten years. Every time, well, most times I see her, I get a quickening of my heartbeat and a funny feeling inside. When she sits opposite me on that low settee we've got in our lounge and her legs are slightly apart because she's too relaxed with me, her husband, to cross them and she's wearing a short skirt and I can see that dark shadowy area between her legs, her very shapely legs, I get hard immediately.

Trouble is, I get hard too easily for other women as well. It's happened more than once in fact. It's nothing serious of course, just a bit of fun here and there. A colleague or a girl I might meet in a bar on the way home from work, even one of Gemma's friends once. She didn't find out about that, fortunately. She doesn't find out about them all. I work irregular hours and so does she, so often we're not home at the same time nor expect to be. If I'm out playing around, shall we say, she isn't necessarily going to suspect anything.

There again, she knows me by now. So she gets suspicious about slight things like a smell of perfume, not hers, on me. Or a trace of lipstick on a shirt front, maybe.

That's how she caught me this last time. A strange perfume; I couldn't even smell it but she could - imagine that! I confessed, explained it was nothing and it was over anyway. She went mad. Screamed and shouted, said I'd lose her and the house, this time was one time too many. And so on.

So, that's when I said what I did. Made my offer, my from-the-heart sacrifice. I couldn't believe I'd said it afterwards, nor could she. She just stared at me and asked if I was drunk. I said no; she went to bed. I slept downstairs. But this morning she asked if I had been serious last night. I said yes.

I rather wish I hadn't.

May 8th (afternoon)

I couldn't help think about it all morning and lunch-time, too. Why I came to say such a thing. What to do next. If I go back on what I said, now she's shown some interest, I'll lose her, I know it. And I don't want to.

Why I said it; well, that's easy.

When we're in bed and Gemma is getting all, well, hot (and I'm hot already, I heat up quickly), she loves to caress my balls. Honest. Now I've heard some men don't like this one little bit. Just a touch of their scrotum and they jump. But me, I don't mind it. Gemma's fingers slowly s q u e e z e my sac, then she uses her fingers to separate my testicles, then she t w i s t s each one back and forth whilst prising them apart.

Then her fingers dig in, nails first (and she has long nails) into my scrotum and she twists again. And grips really, really hard.

Meanwhile, she's breathing heavily and her slit is as wet as it can possibly get. And her nipples are erect and I'm sucking them, or I've got my tongue down her throat. Either way, my prick is just about ready to enter her. And the pain from my balls just stimulates me more and more.

As for Gemma, I think it must be a control thing. She shows she has the upper hand by inflicting pain on me and I accept it.

Next day, my scrotum is swollen up very large, very black and blue and very hard. The slightest touch is agony. No hanky-panky that day with anyone else. Just the thought brings tears to my eyes.

But that night, Gemma makes sure we go to bed early and together. She immediately grasps my swollen sac and squeezes just as hard as she can.

I scream, I can't help it. But my prick is straight away as hard as if I haven't fucked anyone for months.

And that's just how she likes it.

May 10th (evening)

Gemma hadn't mentioned anything yesterday and I thought well, she probably thinks I didn't mean it and that's that. And I'm still sleeping downstairs so she's still punishing me and that maybe is enough so far as she is concerned.

But I felt strangely disappointed. In a way I was looking forward to it. Kinky or what?

But tonight she said, "I've got something to show you". And off she went to rummage in her handbag and come back with a piece of cardboard and something attached to it.

She gave it to me.

It was a small, cheap craft knife, basically just a blade slotted into a simple red plastic handle. Nothing more. But I wasn't fooled, I'd used little craft knives like this before for home jobs. Their blades may be cheap and break easily but they are razor sharp.

"Is this what you had in mind...lover?"

I'm sure I detected a slight sneer on that last word.

"No-one else's lover in future if I have my way!"

May 11th (midday)

So it's agreed. We decided last night. I never ever thought she'd say yes but she did. It's kinky; for me, maybe the ultimate thrill; for her, the ultimate way to keep me.

It's because of what she said when we fought four nights ago.

"If you were a dog, I'd take you to the vets, have you neutered!"

"Well, why don't you? Neuter me, I deserve it. Then I'd definitely be yours."

"What do you mean? Are you mad?"

"You like squeezing my balls in bed. You like being in control. You like inflicting the pain on me. Punish me properly; punish me for being unfaithful and make sure it doesn't happen again. Squeeze me so hard you crush my balls. Better still, castrate me, take my balls away. Don't just bruise me and twist my balls so they ache, take them right out.

"A knife, a craft knife, in bed. When we're making love. Slowly, press the tip to my scrotum. Tell me what you're doing as you do it. Press the point tighter against my balls until 'pop', it goes in. Describe how the point is in me. Ease it in further until half the blade is buried in my sac. Hold my prick; God, I'll be so hard.

"Slice the blade upwards, cutting through the skin. Right up by my testicles, one of them. A quick twist, slice the cord that connects it and out it drops in your hand. Hold me real close. Then fuck me with my scrotum open and my pain making me so hard for you.

"Do it in stages. Work up to it. We don't need to be committed to it all at once. First time, just pop open my scrotum. Then, let it heal, maybe. Second time, open me right up but let me keep my balls. Next time, it's up to you, punish me as you have never done before. Take one right out.

"Next time, start again. It'll be up to you. When, how much, how often. Whether you let me keep one of my testicles or you take them both.

"And I'll fuck you all along."

That's when she asked me if I was drunk.

May 11th (early evening)

Gemma's been getting ready. A waterproof sheet over the mattress and towelling over that for comfort (!) She boiled the craft knife to sterilise it. The thought struck me, first sterilise the knife, then the husband.

I'm nervous but I'm excited, too. The ultimate power struggle, her control over me. I'll have a brandy now, I need it.

May 12th (early morning)

We went to bed early last night. Although I knew what was in store, I was still very turned on - more so than usual, in fact. It may be difficult to believe but I read in a men's magazine that some men really get off on the idea of being castrated. There was an account there of a man castrated during sex play. Wire wrapped tight around the top of his sac under his penis and then, swoosh, off with a knife.

I love Gemma, although I know she finds that difficult to believe sometimes, so I welcome this control she will have over me. Anyway, I was so hard before we even got into bed, I was worried I'd come too soon.

We started with kissing and cuddling, I stripped naked, Gemma was wearing her nightie only. She began to caress my balls and squeeze them as usual. She didn't pick-up the craft knife on the bedside table. I was afraid she was having second thoughts. I didn't want that. I had to annoy her, get her angry enough to do it.

We were kissing so I stopped and pulled away from her. I removed my hands from her shoulder and waist and instead gripped the neckline of her nightie, a pretty one I know she likes.

I tugged down hard with both hands before she could stop me. There was a delicious tearing noise and both her tits popped out as the material tore down to the waist. I heard her scream as I buried my head in her chest and felt for an erect nipple with my lips.

"You bastard, you knew I liked that one best;" she was really annoyed now. And she leant over and picked up the knife.

I felt the tip pressing against my scrotum. She pressed harder and I could feel the skin straining to hold against the razor sharp point.

"Ready, lover?" again that sneer. "I'm pushing it in now."

I gasped as I felt the pressure increase and swear I heard a slight 'plop' as the point punctured my sac. There was an immediate pricking sensation followed by slight soreness but surprisingly little else.

My penis hardened even more as I realised she had indeed taken that first step.

"I'm cutting now, slicing right up by your balls, do you feel that?"

An electric shock-like pain wrenched through me and made me feel momentarily sick and dizzy. I guessed the knife blade had touched one of my testicles.

I felt her slide the knife up, God it was sharp. The skin opened up easily. It felt warm and wet now. I was kissing the back of her neck, I couldn't reach her breasts with my mouth any longer as she was sitting, her head bent over between my legs, watching the knife as she sliced upwards and steadying my scrotum with her other hand.

I thought my throbbing penis was going to explode. The pain just merged inside me with my feelings of lust to produce a hormone rush so extreme that I doubt anything could match it.

I saw her wrist move in a circular action like coring an apple and felt that electric shock pain again. Immediately after, there was a strange reduction of tension in my groin as if a piece of taut elastic had snapped. Gemma brought her hand up to my face. There was a small round red object in it.

"Mmm, you didn't think I was going to wait to do you properly, did you? Take my time, slowly does it, week after week, letting you heal? No, you deserve this, lover, you do. Now fuck me quick."

She fell backwards and pulled me with her, her hand now gripping my still so very hard penis and guiding it into her very wet slit.

I came at once.

Afterwards it was washing and bandaging. She said, "I've left you one, sweetheart, for good behaviour. I never thought you'd go through with it. I'll be checking how well you're healing with some good hard squeezing of your balls, sorry ball singular, every night from now on. And, as soon as you are healed, we'll see if you deserve to keep that one or not. Maybe next time, I will just open you up the first night and keep the actual removal for later. I think I'd like to make it last. You'd better pray I make it last a long time."

I didn't want to let her see but I was hot again already at the mere thought of it.

I was becoming really hard - for the moment.

© P Rosier, 2005