On the day I proposed, she told me of the secret her f****y held. Were I to marry her I would have to agree to join the other men. Her words were cryptic, to the point asked her to explain. When she did, I was shocked.
“It’s your wedding gift to me.” she explained. “It’s quick, and when it’s over you’ll truly be part of our f****y.”
I could barely breath. “But…” My question was cut short by her brusque explanation. “It keeps out men from straying.”
It was easy to see that I was unconvinced. Later at home she suggested that I call b*****rs-in-law. Talk to them about the ceremony.
“Yes,” ken told me. “I was nervous about it too, but I can tell you, I feel freer than I every have, when sex isn’t on my mind constantly. Free to concentrate on the important things in life. Like my wife.”
Over the next two weeks, I found myself talking with other men who had married women from that f****y. All spoke with the same confidence and certainty that I too would feel the same.
My mind was made up. Finding Destiny in the f****y room reading another book, knelt before her and said, “I’m ready to do it.”
Two weeks we marched down the isle, said our vows among friends, kissed, and retreated back up the isle to leave promptly for her parents’ home where she would personally perform the next part of the ceremony.
“Nervous?” she asked rhetorically.
“Very!” I replied with a shaking voice.
“Still want to go through with it?”
“No,” I replied confidently. “I know I’ll miss them but I’ll be able to think more clearly without the bother of constant thoughts about sex.
She snuggled close to me, letting her hand rest on my cock at it’s hardest. “It will give you more time to think about us.”
We left the car to go into the house where we went into a side room to strip naked as was the tradition for both the bride, who would make the cut, and the groom. Hand-in-hand she led me to where she would do it.
Oddly, my mind was distracted, not thinking about what I was about to lose. I was conscious of walking with her to the chair. It was specially designed by woman who had originate the ceremony.. Glancing out into the ocean of faces watching, I smiled at her father seated in the front row.
Sitting down in it, the three-inch wide metal bar with special attachments, f***ed my thighs apart. She looped a string around my erection, and pulled it back out of the way so she could get to my balls. I watched her through seeing but uncaring eyes as she expertly banded them close to my crotch and brought a clamping bare across them, causing them to stretch to the limit.
It was as though I was seeing her hand in slow motion as she lifted the scalpel and brought it toward my scrotum. Looking into my eyes, she smiled and said, “This is it, darling. Welcome to the f****y.”
Placing the knife at one side of my immobile nuts, she pulled it deftly across neatly separating my balls forever from my body. I felt the sting of the cut, and gasped more in surprise than pain, then looked down to see that I was now he eunuch. And proud of it. The applause of the gathered group roused my attention to look out at them. I recall smiling.
Two nurses came forward to lift me, place me on a table where I lay back and wheeled me away to stitch me up. My last view of my bride was as she carried my severed balls into the kitchen.
Some time later as my mind was clearing, she came back with a small plate. On it rested four round pieces of meat, lightly browned.
“I saved these four us , honey,” she said offering one one slice of one of my former balls.