Lowwave
09-15-2015, 02:34 AM
(Please let me know if anyone likes these kinds of stories. I wrote a few of them some years ago. Cheers.)
The Huntsman woke up seated in a hard, wooden chair in a large official looking room. His head ached and he struggled to remember how he came to be in a room so unlike the rough pastures where he normally slept. Slowly, he started to recall being toasted and celebrated in the pub for his reported heroic role in saving the girl named “Red Riding Hood” and her aged granny. He vaguely recalled the excitement of the company of two beautiful women, whom he had never seen before, buying him drinks and cuddling up to him in the tavern. He smiled as he pictured himself bedding those two lovely women. Surely, such women were the ultimate reward for any male hero, but sadly one he had never known as a lowly and dirty huntsman. He wondered how he ended up in this chair, instead of a warm bed with a lovely female on each side of him.
Just then, a matronly woman entered the room, followed by five other mature women and a tall, younger woman. They were dressed in fine tailored clothes and at once he recognized the older women as members of the powerful women’s council of the nearby village. He had, however, never seen the younger woman before, who was wearing a rather revealing military style outfit, complete with long sword on one side, a knife on the other and a spear in her hand. She was slim and strong and wore her hair in a long black braid, which swung from side to side when she marched in. The Huntsman had difficulty focusing on anything but this beautiful woman, who bore the look of the mythical Amazon warriors he had once seen in an old book. From his chair he tried to stand up to show his respect for the authority of the council women assembling before him, but was instantly stopped by a sharp and severe pain in his groin. He groaned loudly and slumped back into the chair. Through his pain he looked up to see that several of the women had heard his groan and were smiling or hiding their laughter with their hands.
The head woman motioned to the council women to be seated and waved the young warrior to attend to the Huntsman, “Ursala, see that our guest is properly motivated to do what we ask of him.”
She then addressed the Huntsman directly, “Please do not attempt to move around much, as you will find it most uncomfortable if you do. Your testicles have been pulled through a specially cut hole in your chair and tied to a ring attached to the floor beneath you. We find that male prisoners seem to lose their desire to try to escape when bound thusly.”
The Huntsman was alarmed to hear the word ‘prisoner’, but more terrified at the way the woman had said “testicles”, and he tried to stay perfectly still. His large muscular body, hardened through years of the most arduous work cutting and hauling firewood, had been rendered helpless by a few inches of the thinnest wire, strategically encircling his most vulnerable parts. The Amazon went behind his chair and reached down to the wire and pulled on it ever so slightly. She smiled broadly when he grunted and shifted uncomfortably. She announced, “His testicles are securely fastened, High Mistress.”
“Excellent, we can proceed then. In the old days of the Matriarchy, we used to call those male organs the “orbs of truth” for only when a male is reminded of their fragility is he disposed to tell the truth”, the High Mistress calmly observed. Several of the women seated on either side of her nodded their agreement with this sentiment. The High Mistress then looked down at a parchment in front of her and then up at the Huntsman, “So, you are the great hero who saved a young girl and her grandmother from a vicious wolf, are you?” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “I have read the official report sent to the Provincial Governor by our esteemed Mayor, my husband. Is this exactly what happened, Huntsman?”
“Yes, ma’am, I mean High Mistress, it is as writt…….UGH!” Ursala had given the wire another slight pull.
“Do not lie to this council, foolish male!” the High Mistress warned. “You are here to ‘testify’ in the true sense of the word, as your testicles will bear the consequences of your lies.” She looked back at the document in her hand, “This parchment contains just the sort of nonsense my husband would cook up to avoid uncomfortable realities and keep power firmly in the hands of your foolish gender. Take care, Huntsman, we are not fools and are not to be trifled with.” With that, she nodded to Ursala, who drew her knife and held it poised underneath his chair.
The Huntsman’s eyes darted around wildly and, since no male is courageous when faced with the unspeakable, tears started to well up in his eyes, “Oh, High Mistress”, he began to sob, “It is all a lie. The Mayor told me that it had to be so because the truth would raise certain unsettling questions in the people. He said in everyone’s best interests to change the story, especially mine, for I would be a hero. He said since no one knows the girl and her grandmother, but me, and they live so deep in the woods that there would not be anyone to contradict the version he reported.”
The High Mistress sat and smirked, “Tell us the truth, then, great hero, but take care that it is the whole truth, for the maiden behind you has her pruning knife drawn and I believe it has not tasted a male since the Spring bull castrations.”
The Huntsman swallowed hard and told his tale. The following is the version repeated by traveling female bards at firesides all over the land when no males are present:
"The ‘Little’ Red Riding Hood named in the report was in fact just called “Red” because of her flaming red hair, which she wore loose and long down to her waist. She also was not very little nor particularly young, being nineteen years of age and nearly four cubits tall. It is true she owned a red riding hood, but she also had a matching red cape and sharply pointed red boots. The effect of the entire outfit was most striking, although she met few people during her day to day life. She hunted in the deep forest and was adept with both bow and spear. Red was a formidable hunter and feared no living creature. She lived in a hut near where the hunting was best and her grandmother, her only living relative, lived a short distance away in the ancestral cottage to protect it from squatters and other potential claimants. Red brought food to her grandmother, who she called “Nana”, almost daily.
Now, there was a very unusual wolf who came to frequent the same hunting grounds, taking advantage of the plentiful game. He had just arrived from other regions which he had nearly emptied of game. What was unusual about him was that he was five times the size of an ordinary male wolf, with more than five times the appetites. In addition, he had genitalia disproportionally large even for such a gigantic carnivore, especially his gourd shaped scrotum, which was almost always filled to near bursting with prodigious quantities of seed. The result was that he was unbearably horny all day and night long. It was well known and sometimes observed that he “tenderized’ female victims before devouring them. Over time, he had raped just about every reasonable sized kind of animal in the forest. Every doe was terrified of him.
One day, a lovely doe with long eyelashes was enjoying some Spring leaves, when the wolf jumped out of a bush he had been hiding in and blocked her escape. He raised his form menacingly on his hind legs, and the doe nearly panicked when she saw his enormous erect and furry penis staring right at her. Thinking fast, she said, “It is a shame to waste such masculine virility on one as unimpressive as I am. I hear tell that there is a most desirable female in these very woods who can make any male cum a dozen times, and even a few times after she has left. It is said that she is the ultimate male prize, but that few have the size and virility to satisfy her.”
“What is this nonsense?” the wolf roared, then he thought on her words and added, “Where would I find this female?”
“Oh Mr. Wolf, you are certainly an impressive male, for an animal, but she is human, and perhaps too hard for even you to satisfy. She is the one they call “Red” and she comes down this very path each evening.” Then, seeing the wolf clearing thinking with his genitalia, she added, “They say that few have the courage to ask her for sex, but that she will give it to anyone with large enough, if you don’t mind me saying, ‘balls’ to do so.”
The wolf sat and pondered such a female, then waved the doe away, “I have the balls and then some.” His erection grew even larger at the thought and he paced back and forth and back and forth, waiting for what he hoped would be his greatest female conquest.
After a time, Red came down the path carrying a basket with some choice cuts of meat she had smoked and was bring to Nana. When she had passed by a particularly large oak tree, the wolf pounced out and blocked her path. She took a step backwards, shocked by the size of this wolf and that it took no actions to avoid her, as wolves usually did with humans, especially huntresses like herself.
“Where are you going, my pretty?” he growled.
“To my Nana’s house, you filthy beast, now get out of my way at once!” She reached for the knife she kept in her belt.
His eyes widened as he thought of how delicious it was going to feel to be inside this lovely human, and he slowly raised himself on his hind legs, exposing his enormous erection to Red. “I just want to be very friendly, Miss Red.” He said as innocently as he could muster.
She stared wide eyed at his masculine parts, still trying to fathom what in the world was going on here. Once she understood his intent, she averted her eyes and said, “You are most impressive, Mr. Wolf, perhaps you would like some tasty smoked meat before we…..you know.”
He licked his chops, stared at the basket and moved slightly forward, muttering, “I heard that you will do things to a male, that is, if one has the ‘balls’”. His voice trailed off, lost in visions of smoked meat followed by unspeakable pleasure.
“Oh yes, if one has the ‘balls’”, she said as she smiled and stepped slowly forward, holding forward the basket. Just then, she took one large stride and kicked her bright red boot, point first, right into the middle of the wolf’s huge and swollen fur-covered scrotum.
“AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!” bellowed the wolf as he collapsed in sections to the leaf covered floor of the forest. As he lay crumpled at her feet, Red stepped back and put her basket down. Putting her hands on her hips, she laughed, “Usually, under these circumstances, I tell a male to stop whimpering and ‘take it like a man’, but I guess it just as apt for wolves with the ‘balls’ to try to **** me. I hope you have learned your lesson.” With that, she picked up her basket and went on her way, slowly swinging her hips and laughing.
After a few hours, the wolf crawled back to his den and spent the next few days trying to walk normally again. All this time, his pride burned from the humiliation this female had inflicted on him, and he swore revenge on her and all of her gender. Making matters worse, his seed was even more severely back up than usual and his balls ached to **** worse than ever. However, for the first time in his life, he knew fear of the female. What if Red shared her knowledge of male weakness with other females? **** would soon be a thing of the past. So, he knew he had to silence her before she could divulge her tactics to other females. Suddenly, a plan came to him. He would capture the one called ‘Nana’ and make Red promise to keep quiet about the ‘incident’. He might also demand that she satisfy his blinding lust. The old one would be so completely terrorized, he reasoned, that Red would not dare to kick him in the scrotum again. Convinced in the genius of his plan, he made his way to Nana’s house.
Days before, Red had told Nana all about her encounter with the wolf and they laughed and laughed together as Red pantomimed the wolf’s reaction to her well placed kick. Nana said, “I remember as young girls we used to use our knees to make sure grabby boys danced with us at a respectable distance. One knee is all it would take. After that, all you had to do was whisper ‘knee’ ever so sweetly in their ear to get them to behave. I loved seeing the fear in their eyes, and the respect that comes with knowing that we could hurt them, and hurt them at their sexual core anytime we desired to do so.”
Nana got up to refill her cup from the teapot, then chuckled under her breath. “I also remember more than one engagement that was announced by a reluctant male on the dance floor, when, under the young girl’s voluminous dress, a dainty hand had a womanly grip on a pair of soon-to-be domesticated testicles.” Red nearly spit out her tea laughing at the image of a carefully dancing male, queasy with premarital jitters of the testicular kind.
On the day the wolf arrived, Nana was alone. Red was in a lovely meadow nearby, selecting flowers for Nana’s table that evening. The wolf peered in the window and saw the old one in her kitchen. Emboldened by her age and seeming frailty, he burst into the house and told her to sit in the chair, wait for Red and not to make a sound or he would do terrible things to her. Nana slowly reached for her walking cane and compliantly tapped, tapped her way over to the chair and sat down. The wolf paced ravenously around the room, getting hornier and fearfully anxious at the same time. What if the red woman just kicked him in the testicles again without warning, he thought? He would be helpless to carry out his threat. Perhaps, he worried, he had not thought this out well enough.
Just then, Red burst through the door holding a fistful of lovely flowers. The wolf turned suddenly to face her. Her jaw dropped almost instantly upon seeing the fully erect wolf again. Before she could move a muscle to react, she saw Nana rise from the chair and she gave her a silent nod. Red blinked her approval and smiled sweetly at the wolf, “so, we meet again, my impressively hung wolf.” The wolf smiled and thought of how Red must have reconsidered her hasty rejection of him last time they met. Just then, Nana’s cane came swiftly up between the wolf’s hind legs from behind. His furry scrotum jumped up from the blow, then bounced left, then right. The wolf’s front paws converged on his groin as his hind legs gave way and he slid to the floor, his mouth open trying to emit a scream. Red saw Nana’s smile was a mile wide. Then, taking the knife from her belt, Red said, “Well, we have just about had enough of this male’s nonsense!”.
Red pushed the weakened wolf’s paws aside and hoisted him up from behind by his testicles. He was in too much pain to offer resistance, nor to issue any verbal response of any kind. She dragged him through the door and out past the corn crib to the shed where Nana used to skin animals in winter for their lustrous coats. Red slipped the knife under the wolf and with a swishing sound came up with his mountain oysters. She gave them to Nana and said, “I guess we can fry these up while they are still fresh.” Nana went inside to the kitchen while Red went back to the wolf, even though it was not yet fur season.
A few days later, the Huntsman sold Nana some firewood, cleared away a fallen tree, and heard the story of the enormous wolf. As proof of the tale, Nana produced the enormous pelt that Red had skinned off of the wolf. She asked the Huntsman to take it to the village to see if he could get any coins for it. When he arrived at the village the next day, all marveled at its size and he was pressed from all sides to tell of how such a beast had been caught and killed. The Mayor quickly isolated the Huntsman before he revealed what had really happened, and once he heard the tale, set about revising it."
****The High Mistress sat back in her chair, “That sounds more like it, Huntsman. Clearly, my husband did not want a story told where women successfully defended themselves against male aggression, without male protection of course.”
The woman to the left of the High Mistress added, “Those distinguished men in the Mayor’s office are terrified of women publicizing the weakness that swings between the legs of everything male in nature, and how it is a natural fighting tactic for all things feminine to exploit that weakness.”
The High Mistress nodded, “So true, so true. They are fools to think they can keep that genie in its bottle forever.” She laughed at her own analogy, “When we need to, we will rise, seize the males by their weakness and rule over them, but why bother now. Let the fools think they are in charge.” She then noticed the Huntsman, smiled and ordered, “Ursala, dispose of the male as you see fit.” With that, she and the five matronly women filed out.
Alone with Ursala, the Huntsman was both nervous and excited. She peered over his body to notice that his manhood was standing at full attention. She smiled as she pulled out her short knife, bent her body back down and reached under him. With her free hand she joined her thumb and forefinger in a circle around the base of his ample scrotum. She then let her other three fingers wrap around his balls, first loosely, then tighter. He sat up very straight as her other hand, the knife hand descended under the chair. “Snip” was the sound of ……the wire being cut. She let it fall to the floor as his heart almost stopped. Gradually, it dawned on him that she had let him stay intact. Yet, through her grip of his manly fruit, she still had complete control over him.
She put her knife back in its sheath, but held him helplessly with her other hand. She did not ask him, but told him, “You are a big healthy buck and now I take you as my mate. You will serve only me and father my children.” She then let his balls swing free, but held them figuratively in a vise grip for the rest of his days. He would not have wanted it any other way.
The Huntsman woke up seated in a hard, wooden chair in a large official looking room. His head ached and he struggled to remember how he came to be in a room so unlike the rough pastures where he normally slept. Slowly, he started to recall being toasted and celebrated in the pub for his reported heroic role in saving the girl named “Red Riding Hood” and her aged granny. He vaguely recalled the excitement of the company of two beautiful women, whom he had never seen before, buying him drinks and cuddling up to him in the tavern. He smiled as he pictured himself bedding those two lovely women. Surely, such women were the ultimate reward for any male hero, but sadly one he had never known as a lowly and dirty huntsman. He wondered how he ended up in this chair, instead of a warm bed with a lovely female on each side of him.
Just then, a matronly woman entered the room, followed by five other mature women and a tall, younger woman. They were dressed in fine tailored clothes and at once he recognized the older women as members of the powerful women’s council of the nearby village. He had, however, never seen the younger woman before, who was wearing a rather revealing military style outfit, complete with long sword on one side, a knife on the other and a spear in her hand. She was slim and strong and wore her hair in a long black braid, which swung from side to side when she marched in. The Huntsman had difficulty focusing on anything but this beautiful woman, who bore the look of the mythical Amazon warriors he had once seen in an old book. From his chair he tried to stand up to show his respect for the authority of the council women assembling before him, but was instantly stopped by a sharp and severe pain in his groin. He groaned loudly and slumped back into the chair. Through his pain he looked up to see that several of the women had heard his groan and were smiling or hiding their laughter with their hands.
The head woman motioned to the council women to be seated and waved the young warrior to attend to the Huntsman, “Ursala, see that our guest is properly motivated to do what we ask of him.”
She then addressed the Huntsman directly, “Please do not attempt to move around much, as you will find it most uncomfortable if you do. Your testicles have been pulled through a specially cut hole in your chair and tied to a ring attached to the floor beneath you. We find that male prisoners seem to lose their desire to try to escape when bound thusly.”
The Huntsman was alarmed to hear the word ‘prisoner’, but more terrified at the way the woman had said “testicles”, and he tried to stay perfectly still. His large muscular body, hardened through years of the most arduous work cutting and hauling firewood, had been rendered helpless by a few inches of the thinnest wire, strategically encircling his most vulnerable parts. The Amazon went behind his chair and reached down to the wire and pulled on it ever so slightly. She smiled broadly when he grunted and shifted uncomfortably. She announced, “His testicles are securely fastened, High Mistress.”
“Excellent, we can proceed then. In the old days of the Matriarchy, we used to call those male organs the “orbs of truth” for only when a male is reminded of their fragility is he disposed to tell the truth”, the High Mistress calmly observed. Several of the women seated on either side of her nodded their agreement with this sentiment. The High Mistress then looked down at a parchment in front of her and then up at the Huntsman, “So, you are the great hero who saved a young girl and her grandmother from a vicious wolf, are you?” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “I have read the official report sent to the Provincial Governor by our esteemed Mayor, my husband. Is this exactly what happened, Huntsman?”
“Yes, ma’am, I mean High Mistress, it is as writt…….UGH!” Ursala had given the wire another slight pull.
“Do not lie to this council, foolish male!” the High Mistress warned. “You are here to ‘testify’ in the true sense of the word, as your testicles will bear the consequences of your lies.” She looked back at the document in her hand, “This parchment contains just the sort of nonsense my husband would cook up to avoid uncomfortable realities and keep power firmly in the hands of your foolish gender. Take care, Huntsman, we are not fools and are not to be trifled with.” With that, she nodded to Ursala, who drew her knife and held it poised underneath his chair.
The Huntsman’s eyes darted around wildly and, since no male is courageous when faced with the unspeakable, tears started to well up in his eyes, “Oh, High Mistress”, he began to sob, “It is all a lie. The Mayor told me that it had to be so because the truth would raise certain unsettling questions in the people. He said in everyone’s best interests to change the story, especially mine, for I would be a hero. He said since no one knows the girl and her grandmother, but me, and they live so deep in the woods that there would not be anyone to contradict the version he reported.”
The High Mistress sat and smirked, “Tell us the truth, then, great hero, but take care that it is the whole truth, for the maiden behind you has her pruning knife drawn and I believe it has not tasted a male since the Spring bull castrations.”
The Huntsman swallowed hard and told his tale. The following is the version repeated by traveling female bards at firesides all over the land when no males are present:
"The ‘Little’ Red Riding Hood named in the report was in fact just called “Red” because of her flaming red hair, which she wore loose and long down to her waist. She also was not very little nor particularly young, being nineteen years of age and nearly four cubits tall. It is true she owned a red riding hood, but she also had a matching red cape and sharply pointed red boots. The effect of the entire outfit was most striking, although she met few people during her day to day life. She hunted in the deep forest and was adept with both bow and spear. Red was a formidable hunter and feared no living creature. She lived in a hut near where the hunting was best and her grandmother, her only living relative, lived a short distance away in the ancestral cottage to protect it from squatters and other potential claimants. Red brought food to her grandmother, who she called “Nana”, almost daily.
Now, there was a very unusual wolf who came to frequent the same hunting grounds, taking advantage of the plentiful game. He had just arrived from other regions which he had nearly emptied of game. What was unusual about him was that he was five times the size of an ordinary male wolf, with more than five times the appetites. In addition, he had genitalia disproportionally large even for such a gigantic carnivore, especially his gourd shaped scrotum, which was almost always filled to near bursting with prodigious quantities of seed. The result was that he was unbearably horny all day and night long. It was well known and sometimes observed that he “tenderized’ female victims before devouring them. Over time, he had raped just about every reasonable sized kind of animal in the forest. Every doe was terrified of him.
One day, a lovely doe with long eyelashes was enjoying some Spring leaves, when the wolf jumped out of a bush he had been hiding in and blocked her escape. He raised his form menacingly on his hind legs, and the doe nearly panicked when she saw his enormous erect and furry penis staring right at her. Thinking fast, she said, “It is a shame to waste such masculine virility on one as unimpressive as I am. I hear tell that there is a most desirable female in these very woods who can make any male cum a dozen times, and even a few times after she has left. It is said that she is the ultimate male prize, but that few have the size and virility to satisfy her.”
“What is this nonsense?” the wolf roared, then he thought on her words and added, “Where would I find this female?”
“Oh Mr. Wolf, you are certainly an impressive male, for an animal, but she is human, and perhaps too hard for even you to satisfy. She is the one they call “Red” and she comes down this very path each evening.” Then, seeing the wolf clearing thinking with his genitalia, she added, “They say that few have the courage to ask her for sex, but that she will give it to anyone with large enough, if you don’t mind me saying, ‘balls’ to do so.”
The wolf sat and pondered such a female, then waved the doe away, “I have the balls and then some.” His erection grew even larger at the thought and he paced back and forth and back and forth, waiting for what he hoped would be his greatest female conquest.
After a time, Red came down the path carrying a basket with some choice cuts of meat she had smoked and was bring to Nana. When she had passed by a particularly large oak tree, the wolf pounced out and blocked her path. She took a step backwards, shocked by the size of this wolf and that it took no actions to avoid her, as wolves usually did with humans, especially huntresses like herself.
“Where are you going, my pretty?” he growled.
“To my Nana’s house, you filthy beast, now get out of my way at once!” She reached for the knife she kept in her belt.
His eyes widened as he thought of how delicious it was going to feel to be inside this lovely human, and he slowly raised himself on his hind legs, exposing his enormous erection to Red. “I just want to be very friendly, Miss Red.” He said as innocently as he could muster.
She stared wide eyed at his masculine parts, still trying to fathom what in the world was going on here. Once she understood his intent, she averted her eyes and said, “You are most impressive, Mr. Wolf, perhaps you would like some tasty smoked meat before we…..you know.”
He licked his chops, stared at the basket and moved slightly forward, muttering, “I heard that you will do things to a male, that is, if one has the ‘balls’”. His voice trailed off, lost in visions of smoked meat followed by unspeakable pleasure.
“Oh yes, if one has the ‘balls’”, she said as she smiled and stepped slowly forward, holding forward the basket. Just then, she took one large stride and kicked her bright red boot, point first, right into the middle of the wolf’s huge and swollen fur-covered scrotum.
“AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!” bellowed the wolf as he collapsed in sections to the leaf covered floor of the forest. As he lay crumpled at her feet, Red stepped back and put her basket down. Putting her hands on her hips, she laughed, “Usually, under these circumstances, I tell a male to stop whimpering and ‘take it like a man’, but I guess it just as apt for wolves with the ‘balls’ to try to **** me. I hope you have learned your lesson.” With that, she picked up her basket and went on her way, slowly swinging her hips and laughing.
After a few hours, the wolf crawled back to his den and spent the next few days trying to walk normally again. All this time, his pride burned from the humiliation this female had inflicted on him, and he swore revenge on her and all of her gender. Making matters worse, his seed was even more severely back up than usual and his balls ached to **** worse than ever. However, for the first time in his life, he knew fear of the female. What if Red shared her knowledge of male weakness with other females? **** would soon be a thing of the past. So, he knew he had to silence her before she could divulge her tactics to other females. Suddenly, a plan came to him. He would capture the one called ‘Nana’ and make Red promise to keep quiet about the ‘incident’. He might also demand that she satisfy his blinding lust. The old one would be so completely terrorized, he reasoned, that Red would not dare to kick him in the scrotum again. Convinced in the genius of his plan, he made his way to Nana’s house.
Days before, Red had told Nana all about her encounter with the wolf and they laughed and laughed together as Red pantomimed the wolf’s reaction to her well placed kick. Nana said, “I remember as young girls we used to use our knees to make sure grabby boys danced with us at a respectable distance. One knee is all it would take. After that, all you had to do was whisper ‘knee’ ever so sweetly in their ear to get them to behave. I loved seeing the fear in their eyes, and the respect that comes with knowing that we could hurt them, and hurt them at their sexual core anytime we desired to do so.”
Nana got up to refill her cup from the teapot, then chuckled under her breath. “I also remember more than one engagement that was announced by a reluctant male on the dance floor, when, under the young girl’s voluminous dress, a dainty hand had a womanly grip on a pair of soon-to-be domesticated testicles.” Red nearly spit out her tea laughing at the image of a carefully dancing male, queasy with premarital jitters of the testicular kind.
On the day the wolf arrived, Nana was alone. Red was in a lovely meadow nearby, selecting flowers for Nana’s table that evening. The wolf peered in the window and saw the old one in her kitchen. Emboldened by her age and seeming frailty, he burst into the house and told her to sit in the chair, wait for Red and not to make a sound or he would do terrible things to her. Nana slowly reached for her walking cane and compliantly tapped, tapped her way over to the chair and sat down. The wolf paced ravenously around the room, getting hornier and fearfully anxious at the same time. What if the red woman just kicked him in the testicles again without warning, he thought? He would be helpless to carry out his threat. Perhaps, he worried, he had not thought this out well enough.
Just then, Red burst through the door holding a fistful of lovely flowers. The wolf turned suddenly to face her. Her jaw dropped almost instantly upon seeing the fully erect wolf again. Before she could move a muscle to react, she saw Nana rise from the chair and she gave her a silent nod. Red blinked her approval and smiled sweetly at the wolf, “so, we meet again, my impressively hung wolf.” The wolf smiled and thought of how Red must have reconsidered her hasty rejection of him last time they met. Just then, Nana’s cane came swiftly up between the wolf’s hind legs from behind. His furry scrotum jumped up from the blow, then bounced left, then right. The wolf’s front paws converged on his groin as his hind legs gave way and he slid to the floor, his mouth open trying to emit a scream. Red saw Nana’s smile was a mile wide. Then, taking the knife from her belt, Red said, “Well, we have just about had enough of this male’s nonsense!”.
Red pushed the weakened wolf’s paws aside and hoisted him up from behind by his testicles. He was in too much pain to offer resistance, nor to issue any verbal response of any kind. She dragged him through the door and out past the corn crib to the shed where Nana used to skin animals in winter for their lustrous coats. Red slipped the knife under the wolf and with a swishing sound came up with his mountain oysters. She gave them to Nana and said, “I guess we can fry these up while they are still fresh.” Nana went inside to the kitchen while Red went back to the wolf, even though it was not yet fur season.
A few days later, the Huntsman sold Nana some firewood, cleared away a fallen tree, and heard the story of the enormous wolf. As proof of the tale, Nana produced the enormous pelt that Red had skinned off of the wolf. She asked the Huntsman to take it to the village to see if he could get any coins for it. When he arrived at the village the next day, all marveled at its size and he was pressed from all sides to tell of how such a beast had been caught and killed. The Mayor quickly isolated the Huntsman before he revealed what had really happened, and once he heard the tale, set about revising it."
****The High Mistress sat back in her chair, “That sounds more like it, Huntsman. Clearly, my husband did not want a story told where women successfully defended themselves against male aggression, without male protection of course.”
The woman to the left of the High Mistress added, “Those distinguished men in the Mayor’s office are terrified of women publicizing the weakness that swings between the legs of everything male in nature, and how it is a natural fighting tactic for all things feminine to exploit that weakness.”
The High Mistress nodded, “So true, so true. They are fools to think they can keep that genie in its bottle forever.” She laughed at her own analogy, “When we need to, we will rise, seize the males by their weakness and rule over them, but why bother now. Let the fools think they are in charge.” She then noticed the Huntsman, smiled and ordered, “Ursala, dispose of the male as you see fit.” With that, she and the five matronly women filed out.
Alone with Ursala, the Huntsman was both nervous and excited. She peered over his body to notice that his manhood was standing at full attention. She smiled as she pulled out her short knife, bent her body back down and reached under him. With her free hand she joined her thumb and forefinger in a circle around the base of his ample scrotum. She then let her other three fingers wrap around his balls, first loosely, then tighter. He sat up very straight as her other hand, the knife hand descended under the chair. “Snip” was the sound of ……the wire being cut. She let it fall to the floor as his heart almost stopped. Gradually, it dawned on him that she had let him stay intact. Yet, through her grip of his manly fruit, she still had complete control over him.
She put her knife back in its sheath, but held him helplessly with her other hand. She did not ask him, but told him, “You are a big healthy buck and now I take you as my mate. You will serve only me and father my children.” She then let his balls swing free, but held them figuratively in a vise grip for the rest of his days. He would not have wanted it any other way.