Thirty Nine
“I don’t know.”
It is the third time I have answered Lucinda’s question with the same words.
I kneel in my cage humbly licking her feet. I have signed the divorce decree. I remain within the Winthrop estate to heal, then I am to be banished. Dr. Helga Reinhold visited yesterday, cut away my neck collar, opened up my p***s sans anesthetic and removed the penile implants. It hurt and she laughed as I grimaced with the pain. She also slipped from my urethra the stiff strip of rubber which abetted the firm once permanent erection. Within days the two small sutures will heal and the urethral opening, sutured closed over the rubber strip for over two years, will return to normal, I hope.
“Well it appears you need time to think, Thomas,” Lucinda announces in her smooth matronly to
