Schlongue Part Sixteen

“Lets cut a piece of his meat off for each of us to chew on.

Cannibals!!!!!!!!!!!!!!? I am getting strapped by cannibals!!!!!?

“How would we cut his meat?”

“Look in his pocket, see if he has a knife.”

“What will his wife say?”

“When she left, she whispered to me to make his schlongue hurt as much as we could make it hurt!” The evil giggle from all three women made my skin crawl. Then I realized THAT was what started all of THIS. I again visualize my cock meat being served for dinner as sausage. I visualize my dear sweet wife asking ‘So then, who wants the head?’

“No knife in his pocket.” Such deep disappointment.

“I have toe nail clippers.” OOOHHH Shit! Sure enough, Stretch finds her toenail clipper. Looking for some sort of positive spin on what is clearly a deteriorating situation, I decide that toenail clippers may be better than a knife. A lot smaller cut, I hope.

They all approach my meat with blood in their grins.

“Lets cut some skin off his foreskin. He has so much!” They all giggle.

I flinch as they reach for his head.

“Don’t you dare move.” Pooch yells menacingly, her face as close to mine as she could get it, looking up at me from two feet below.

I close my eyes and feverishly think about sunsets and beautifully colored clouds over the water. Each time they touch me I feel my asshole quiver. My thighs begin to quiver from the prolonged stress.

“Put your hands behind your back, you fucking quivering coward. Just because you have big cock meat doesn’t make you a good fuck, you asshole.” Pooch was psyching herself up for this.

I think wistfully to myself ‘Pooch, honey, let’s be reasonable here. I am sure we can work out something a little less permanent.’

I feel my foreskin being pulled up, then a sharp edge against my skin. I squeeze my eyes together as tight as I can.

“Get something to wipe up the blood so we don’t stain the carpet.” It was Teach.

I feel the sharp edge on the upper and lower sides of my wife’s newly acquired foreskin. I feel two sets of fingers, one on each side of the sharp edge. The two sets of fingers grip my foreskin tightly.

Clip!

I am amazed at how little pain there was. I open my eyes to see the blood running down my cock head onto the table.

“I KNOW! Lets give him a scalloped trim around his schlongue, like a little feminine ruffle!”

I watch as the fingers are re-positioned, and the clippers moved to continue the cut making an indentation about a quarter of an inch in from the edge of my foreskin.

Clip! A piece for skin is cut free from my wife’s foreskin. They re-position for the next cut. Clip! Re-position. Clip! I see the pattern developing around my cockhead. Lots more blood running onto the table. Clip! My cock head is completely covered with blood, Clip! They are half way around. I decide I will be able to endure the rest of this beastly ‘procedure’.

They continue merrily on around his head. They jabber back and forth about how even it will come out. “Might be our best work!” crows Teach. They have done this before? What in the world has happened to the moral’s of the women of this world?

They finally finish their scalloping job, then stand back to survey the pile of foreskin they have amassed on the table next to my cock head. Pooch looks up at my face and realizes that this had not hurt as badly as she had dared hope.

“Ladies, I think we need to salt this meat down. Don’t you think?” They all turn to gaze up at my face. I am not mentally fast enough to change my expression to show extreme pain.

“Yeah, I think your right! We wouldn’t want it to spoil, now would we? All that fresh meat just sitting there in this heat.”

The saltshaker appears over my cock head, and turns itself over, shaking small white grains on to the butchered foreskin. My vision tunnels to just the space around my cock head. I can see nothing else.

“Take the cap of the shaker, lets make sure we put plenty of salt on that freshly cut meat.”

In the dark long tunnel, I see a hand unscrew the head off of the saltshaker. I watch, as if in slow motion, as the shaker container is again slowly, degree by degree, turned upside down, the salt grains pour in infinitely slow slow-motion out of the shaker and onto the bloody stump that was once my cock. I feel pain that is beyond any previous experience. I hear myself scream in slow motion, then watch as their upturned faces register delight and joy. The ceiling comes slowly into view, then recedes away from me. I fade to black.