Chapter Thirty-Two
I have found that abstaining from breakfast is a good idea. For every morning Ilona enters with her basin and scarification iron. And soon after emptying myself she straddles me and the hours of anguish, cutting and burning begin. And I find the trauma nauseates. I bite on the rubber strip and sometimes begin to wretch. Had there been a morning meal, it would be regurgitated.
“Just a little more,” she always so casually advises. But the cutting continues... and the pain. And my body slowly transforms to match her sketches.
Gretchen continues the light exercise, amusing herself with my abject humiliation. Every day she comments on my changed appearance and I suppose it is oddly fascinating to observe the male body being forced to pupate like a butterfly... or perhaps i
