Schlongue Part Seventeen

“Get the fuck up you weenie.” I feel someone kick me in the side. I feel a hand grab my cock head and yank. A hand grinds the foreskin back and forth. I again fade to black.

“So how the hell are we going to get him back to his hotel if he doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll come back around soon.”

“So what do you think his wife is going to say about what we did?”

Who cares, she told us to make his cock hurt. It isn’t our fault if we did what she asked us to. After all, she doesn’t want to fuck him. His cock is useless no matter what it looks like. Besides, I like the scalloped affect. Gives that thing visual interest, don’t you think?”

I open my eyes to see them all bent over my cock, surveying their handiwork. I raise my head to see that the bleeding seems to have stopped. My stomach does not seem to be covered with blood.

“Look, he’s waking up!”

Pooch walks over to my head and smirks. “Did we get you attention that time, you fucking asshole?”

I think silently ‘Pooch, I don’t think you like men very well.’

“Get up you worthless-cocked asshole. You need to get back to your hotel. Get dressed and get your sorry, worthless cock out of here. You can walk back. We’ll see you there, ass fucker.”

I look at my watch and realize I need to be back at the hotel in less than ten minutes. Shit, I struggle to my feet. My cock screaming with pain. I head for the bathroom to wash some of the salt out of my wounds.

“Oh no you don’t you asshole. Leave the salt on there to make sure your fresh meat doesn’t spoil in the heat. We can’t let all that lunchmeat spoil you know.” She leers as they all hold out their hands, each holding pieces of my foreskin. Together, looking in my eyes, they raise their hands, heads tilted back, mouths open, and drop the pieces of skin into their open mouths. They begin to chew.

“Shit, this stuff is tough!. And it has almost no taste at all. Even the salt didn’t help.”

“Sure doesn’t taste like chicken, does it?”

One by one they troop over to the waste can and spit what used to be my wife’s cock flesh into the trash can. Did I just see them do what I thought I saw them do? Shit, my cock isn’t even worth eating? Shit! I visualize my cock laying on the table on a plate, cooked specially for this occasion, my wife asked ‘who wants the head?’ They all shake their head. ‘None for me, thanks.’ My cock goes to waste. Tossed into the garbage and taken to the county dump.

I stumble to my clothes, and pull them on, trying not to faint again. I stumble over to a chair to pull my trousers up. I put my shirt on and tuck it in. I painfully tuck my injured manhood into my trousers.

“Hey asshole, what about that thing that you are supposed to put on your cock meat to hold it under your asshole?”

I search for the strap, then find my belt. I pull my trousers down and try to get the hook into the hole in the ring. My vision is blurry, but I manage to get it attached. I pull it up under me, attach it to my belt in the back, and pull my trousers back up.

The pain with each step, my butchered cock meat rubbing on my leg and trousers as I try to walk threatens to cause me to black out again. I stumble out the door.

”Better hurry you worthless cock meat asshole, you’ll be late to your Master. She’ll want to beat you again.” I hear victory cheers as I softly close the door.