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Epilogue To The Surgeon's Room

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The surgeon makes a circle around the other man’s groin then methodically removes his cock and balls from his body. They place the organ into a jar on a shelf filled with a golden fluid.
The librarian is vigorously stroking the man’s cock as he watches this occur in horror.
“I’m going to make you love this, just the way I love it. I’m going to destroy you,” she whispers to him.
“Wh-what made you this way?” the man attempts to ask through his ball gag.
“I didn’t tell you to speak, piggy,” the librarian says to him, “You don’t get to ask questions.”
Every ounce of hope has left the man. He sees the other man’s testicles and cock floating in the golden liquid in the jay now sitting back on the shelf.
The other man is quivering as they remove
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The heavy door closes behind the last one to leave. Silence lingers heavily in the space.
“Fuck,” the librarian spits, “This gets me so fucking wet. If I didn’t have to call my clean up crew, I’d be fucking your face, right now. Let’s go ahead and put your blindfold on, and some headphones, and put you to bed for the night.”
The man shivers in the frigid darkness. He feels the restraints tightening, again, as the librarian cranks the lever on the chains and forces him back down again.
The man feels the headphones being removed after what seems like an infinite amount of time. Countless hours spent in darkness listening to orchestral music. The man thinks of the hours of boredom he felt sitting on the couch at home, watching Sponge Bob Square Pants, that that would be blessed a blessed respite from his current situation. The man wonders how he could have ever desired to be a woman’s plaything.
There’s no way to tell what time or even what day it is. There are no windows. There is no natural light in this room when the blindfold is removed from the man’s eyes. She then removes his ball gag.
“It’s potty time, bitch,” she tells the man, “Does piggy have to go number one or number
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He hears jingling keys then the chain attached to the collar around his neck loosens slightly. He feels a hard tug against his neck.
“Sit up, pig,” the librarian commands.
Slowly, the man begins to sit up. He grabs the sides of the table to support himself.
The librarian smacks him on the back of his head, “Did I tell you to grab the table?”
The man releases his grip from the table and strains to sit upright.
Once he’s up, the woman walks to his side, grabs a step ladder leaning against the wall. She unfolds the ladder while holding the chain in her hand, steps up four steps, then affixes the other end of his chain leash to an eye-type self-locking hook attached to a heavy duty ceiling curtain track that leads from the side of his bed toward the other surgical table and around the corner away from the only door. The man couldn’t help but notice that there was no track that leads from either table toward the door.
She is wearing thigh high black stockings, black lacey boy shorts and a leather corset with a handgun holster slung cross-body to her left side. In the holster appears to be some kind of yellow and black pistol-shaped
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